I Slapped My Fiancé—Then Married His Billionaire Nemesis novel Chapter 385

**Chapter 385: Proof of Our Love**

What had begun as a simple tease had spiraled into something far more complicated, and now I felt the weight of my own mischief.

Ashton gently lifted my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against my skin that sent an electrifying shiver coursing through me. It was as if he had charged me with a jolt of energy.

“Yes, tam,” he whispered, his voice low and intimate, making my heart flutter.

“Don’t you dare try anything,” I warned, my tone firm despite the warmth flooding my cheeks. “Not gonna happen. I’ll fight you if I have to.”

A faint, infuriating smile crept across his face, that calm demeanor of his returning like an old friend. “Aside from the usual, haven’t we got plenty of other options we haven’t tried yet? Like…” His voice trailed off, and I could see his eyebrow arching playfully as his gaze drifted lower.

I followed his gaze, my eyes dropping as I felt my face flush deeper.

Heat surged through me, igniting a flurry of thoughts I knew I shouldn’t entertain.

He released my hand, his fingers deftly finding what he sought, and with a teasing squeeze, he remarked, “You’ve filled out a bit.”

Then, lowering his head, he brushed his lips against my ear, biting it lightly, sending my mind spiraling into a blank void. My heart raced, pounding so loudly I was convinced he could hear it too.

Ashton’s mouth curled into a devilish grin. His head dipped lower, moving in slow motion until…

I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing myself.

He almost got his way—almost.

Because just then, a wail shattered the moment.

“Waaah!”

There was no mistaking that sound. Minnie.

Mickey never cried like that; even when he was hungry or needed a change, he merely made soft sounds to signal his needs.

Everything around us came to a standstill. I felt Ashton’s body deflate against mine, the tension dissipating like air from a balloon.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, his face contorting with frustration. It was the kind of exasperation only someone interrupted at the most inconvenient moment could understand.

I couldn’t help but laugh, pulling my hand back and giving him a smug look. “And you say your little princess isn’t more important? One cry, and you forget everything else.”

He didn’t argue, instead leaning down to lightly bite my lip. “I’ll deal with you later.”

“Waaah!” Minnie’s wails echoed through the room, demanding attention.

With a resigned sigh, Ashton hurriedly straightened his clothes and moved towards the crib, scooping her up with practiced ease. “Sweetheart, Daddy’s here. Let me see—are you hungry?”

***

I raised a hand, pinching the soft flesh at my waist, a frown forming on my face.

Despite shedding more than ten kilos after giving birth, I still weighed significantly more than I had before. My waist felt thicker, even with the postpartum belt wrapped around me. The flat stomach I had once taken for granted was a distant memory.

The first thing on my agenda once I returned to work was to shed those extra pounds.

I didn’t hide my intentions from Ashton. He noticed immediately, raising an eyebrow in lazy curiosity. “Relax. Even if you turn into a frumpy housewife, I won’t mind. You’re still my wife, after all.”

He reached over, pinching my cheek teasingly, and that was all it took to ignite my irritation. My annoyance with my waistline evaporated, replaced by a surge of anger directed right at him.

“Who are you calling a frumpy housewife?” I demanded, my voice sharper than I intended.

I was already feeling sensitive about my appearance, and for him to say that? It was like he had struck a nerve deep within me.

My temper flared so quickly that I could see the surprise in Ashton’s eyes.

After dinner, we found ourselves locked in a silent standoff that lasted for hours, stretching until it was finally time for bed.

Yet, I remained seated at my dressing table, staring at my reflection, my expression hard as stone. Sleep was the last thing on my mind.

Had I really become a frumpy housewife?

I scrutinized myself in the mirror. My skin was still fair, and although my face was rounder than it had been, it wasn’t unappealing. My chest had filled out, which was expected after childbirth. But the real issue lay with my waist.

Ashton stood behind me, cradling our daughter, who had woken once more.

When his hand landed on my shoulder, I instinctively slapped it away.

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