The Runaway Groom

The Runaway Groom Chapter 838

Over at Jefferson Manor, Henry Jefferson’s funeral was over, and it was now time to deal with Ian Jefferson.

Once James learned that Ian was the one who sent those thugs from before, he unleashed all his fury and

indignation on Ian.

Isaac’s phone happened to ring at the time, and as he took it out to answer it, James’s fist landed squarely on the

bridge of Ian’s nose, shattering it and making him scream.

Irene heard it even as Isaac started to head outside.

“Yeah?”

Irene was relieved to hear him answer. “What was that?”

“Just James venting,” he flatly replied.

Irene quickly understood what had happened and did not ask anything else.

“I might be home late tonight,” he added.

“Oh,” Irene murmured. “Actually, I was just going to tell you that there’s no one at home. We’re all out.”

“I see. Head home soon, though.”

“Okay.”

“Shall I hang up now?” Isaac asked after a brief silence.

“Okay.”

…

As they alighted, Tommy held Irene’s hand as they headed into the mansion, saying, “I’m so happy, Mommy.”

Irene lowered her gaze at him. “You’re happy because we went out?”

“Yes.” Tommy nodded, his head bobbing like a bird’s. “Let’s go out more, I’ll be even happier.”

Irene gave his little hand a squeeze. “Alright.”

Tommy was so happy he was skipping all the way, and Irene smiled as she watched him on cloud nine.

Maybe staying home for the children was not that bad—her sons would at least be happy, would they not?

She even bathed both children for the day before coaxing them to sleep.

It was 9 PM when everything was done. Tommy put on his bear pajamas, sitting on the bed as he played with the

paper windmill they bought from the amusement park.

He puffed at it, propelling that flap even as Irene tried to get him to sleep. “It’s almost ten. Time to sleep—you can

play with it tomorrow too.”

Tommy reluctantly lay down then, but he was still holding the paper windmill.

Irene pulled his blanket over him and gave him a peck on the forehead. “Good boy.”

Tommy beamed happily and closed his eyes obediently.

Irene made sure he was asleep before going upstairs.

It was past ten after she took her bath, but Isaac had yet to return.

She could not sleep, so she picked up a book to read, but her mind could not calm down enough for her to take the

words in.

As such, she headed downstairs and poured herself half a glass of wine before returning upstairs to stand out on

the balcony.

She swirled her glass as she rested both hands on the railing, shaking the pale yellow liquid within.

She took a small sip and frowned.

She did not drink much and was not used to the taste.

She soon saw a car approaching from nearby, but it was too dark for her to see what it looked like.

Even so, she was sure that Isaac had returned.

Soon, the car drove into the front porch and its headlights turned off.

A towering figure then opened the door alighted, his shadow seemingly stretching on forever on the ground under

the streetlights.

Licking her lips, Irene called out to him.

“Isaac.”

Isaac looked up. Seeing her on the balcony, he asked, “Haven’t you slept yet?”

“I was waiting for you.”

He smiled, his usual scowl easing above his dark gaze. “Were you drinking?”

“Yeah.” Irene swirled her glass and finished the rest.

“Had a lot to drink?” he asked.

“…I’m starting to feel tipsy.”

Putting her glass on the railing, she looked at him coquettishly and undid the sash on her sleeping gown, asking

directly, “Can you catch it?”

Even as she said those words, her sash started to fall.

It was so light it seemed to dance in the air as it floated down, landing squarely on Isaac’s shoulder.

His gaze darkened further and he studied her with pupils as dark as bottomless abyss.

“Do you have more?” he asked softly.

His longer fingers took hold of the sash just theThe Runaway Groom Chapter 839

Obviously, the sleeping gown Irene was wearing had no pants either.

She smiled faintly, and even that expression seemed to have an additional tinge of coquettishness. “Yeah. Want

some?”

For the first time, Isaac was being teased.

His dark eyes twinkled as he smiled, and his voice was as quiet as it was deep. “Yeah.”

Hence, Irene watched him as she tipped off her outer gown with her fingers, breathing tenderly and alluringly, “You

have to catch it, or it’d get dirty if it drops on the floor.”

Isaac could not stop himself from smiling.

Did she take the wrong meds today?

“Alright, I’ll catch it,” he said.

The black silk gown slithered off Irene’s body then, baring her fair skin. The straps clinging on her shoulders were so

thin they looked like they would snap at any moment, its soft texture hugging her slender but curvaceous figure.

She smiled. “I’m throwing it down now.”

She held the gown over the railing, and it would fall once she loosened her fingers!

Isaac raised his hands in return, but Irene ultimately stopped herself, clinging onto it as she exclaimed shyly, “Never

mind. I’m too shy for this.”

She returned inside, but just as she was about to straighten her clothes, the door opened.

She turned to find Isaac standing at the doorway, leaning against the door as he stared fixedly at her.

“Don’t.”

“Does it look good?” Irene asked with an unfocused gaze.

Isaac studied her then.

Be it her face, her lips, her neck, or elsewhere… he was not sparing a single nook or cranny!

“Yes.”

She looked up, her lashes twitching. “Really?”

Isaac strode toward her and reached out to take the outer gown off her hands. He then casually threw it on the

bed. “I like it. One layer is enough.”

Irene bit her lip and threw herself into his arms. “Did you know?”

Isaac wrapped his arms around her waist in turn, and buried his face in her hair which smelled so sweet. “Know

what?”

“That you’re despicable.” Irene tightened her hold around his neck. “I doubted myself for the first time.”

She always believed that she was right and she did not regret her choice.

But when they browbeat her at court today without regard for what was wrong, insisting that she had broken

regulations… She felt helpless.

She certainly did not want to imagine how far Dennis Turner’s family would go with the lawsuit if he really died.

Would she be in prison?

Isaac patted her on the back and comforted her. “Does self-indulgence calm you down?”

Irene gave him a peck on the cheek.

“It does. I’ve never worn anything this… risque.”

“That it is,” Isaac said. “When did you buy it? I’ve never seen it before.”

“Just today,” Irene said, looking him in the eye as she asked. “Have you dealt with Ian?”

“I left him with James,” Isaac said, arching his back to carry him. “We don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

This time, things did not look good for Ian!

And Irene did not ask, but she mused to herself for a moment. “I don’t think my lawsuit would be resolved so

easily.”

Isaac put her in bed and hovered above her, his fingertips dancing over her shoulder as he said, “Let’s not talk

about our personal issues tonight, alright?”

Irene took the initiative then and undid her straps just as she reared her head, pressing her soft lips against his.

The rest was all history.

Irene had trouble sleeping, but after the exertion, she slept like a log.

…

It was morning, and the sun slowly rose, its rays creeping through the gaps between the curtains.

In their bedroom, their clothes were thrown messily on the floor.

There was a man’s suit, a shirt, a belt, a pair of trousers, and a black strapped sleeping gown.

Irene was nestled in Isaac’s arms on their bed, sleeping soundly.

Bzzt…

A phone started vibrating loudly, waking Isaac up.

He looked at the table, but the phone was not there—it was in a pocket of one of the garments on the floor.

He massages between his brows, annoyed by the sound.

Irene was awoken too and she asked, muddled, “Whose phone is it?”

Isaac got out of bed to start looking and he found it.

It was Irene’s, and the caller was unidentified.

He passed it to her.

She was still sleepy, and she answered without looking.

“Excuse me, is this Irene Spencer?” the voice on the other end asked.

“I am,” Irene replied.

And then…

n, feeling the soft black texture.

He glanced at it in his hands, remembering that most of Irene’s sleepwear were long sleeved and matched with

pants—the conservative sort.

In fact, he had never seen the one she was wearing!