I Want a Divorce Every Day, But the Superstar Says No-Chapter 75: Choosing to Do the Impossible

Durrell Landon closed his eyes, pinched the center of his brow, and said lightly, "And what about you? Haven’t you chosen the hardest path as well?"

Charles Foote said nothing. Indeed, he also chose the path that shouldn’t have been taken.

...

After Quiana Sutton returned to the apartment, she took a shower immediately. The poppy on her shoulder today was painted with red pigment, which wouldn’t come off. She used body wash multiple times before finally cleaning off the pigment.

Although she wasn’t a germaphobe, she couldn’t accept having red pigment on her body.

Looking at her clean reflection in the mirror, she finally nodded in satisfaction.

She didn’t bother to dry her hair, just grabbed a towel to quickly wipe it and walked out of the bathroom.

The moment she opened the door, her expression froze for an instant.

She saw a man sitting on the sofa not far away, a glass of water placed beside him, idly flipping through a book with an air of laziness about him.

Seeing her appear, Durrell Landon’s eyes, which had been void of warmth, seemed to blaze, almost melting her.

She looked down at her towel, feeling a bit conflicted. Should she change into clothes, or just walk out like this?

Before she could decide, Durrell Landon had already walked over, gently picking up her damp hair, his voice ethereal, as if it would disappear into the air: "We haven’t seen each other for days. I missed you..."

After speaking, he looked up at Quiana Sutton, his gaze burning as he stared at her: "I missed you. Did you miss me?"

His inexplicably cool tone had a kind of indescribable comfort, making her feel momentarily guilty.

"I..."

Without waiting for her reply, Durrell Landon went into the bathroom to get a hairdryer: "Let me dry your hair first."

Durrell Landon often helped her dry her hair before, only most of the time, after drying, they’d end up on the bed.

In an instant, countless restricted scenes flashed in her mind.

She quickly took the hairdryer from Durrell Landon’s hand, "I can do it myself."

Durrell Landon didn’t let go, simply wrapped an arm around her waist gently pulling her towards him, just like that enveloping her in his embrace.

Meanwhile, his other arm went around her, leaning in, with a look of fondness yet exhaustion, resting his head in the nook of her neck.

"You don’t even want me to dry your hair now?"

Quiana Sutton: "..."

If he forcibly wanted to help dry her hair, she would refuse, but his humble attitude made it seem as if refusing would be terribly wrong.

Moreover, now that they were still within the agreement period, she seemed to have no reason to refuse.

She comforted herself that thankfully Durrell Landon had lost his memory, not remembering what they used to do after drying her hair.

In a hushed voice, she finally managed to say, "Having Mr. Landon dry my hair is truly an honor."

Seeing her agree, Durrell Landon released his hold, a fleeting gleam of humor flickering across his eyes: "Alright."

If word got out that the second young master of the Landon Family was drying her hair, she’d probably become the sworn enemy of women nationwide.

Quiana Sutton didn’t speak, even with the sound of the hairdryer mixed in, Durrell Landon could faintly hear her let out a couple of light chuckles.

At this moment, Quiana Sutton was sitting on the sofa; his view if he just glanced down the towel would be completely unobstructed.

He couldn’t help but swallow hard, forcing himself to look away.

He never knew he could be so restrained before.

After a while, once Durrell Landon was sure her hair was dry, he reluctantly twirled a strand before speaking, "It’s done."

Those three words felt like an order of relief to her; upon hearing them, she immediately stood up.

Not sure whether Durrell Landon was doing it intentionally, but while drying her hair, he kept brushing against her sensitive spots, almost making her pounce on him.

Luckily, her self-control wasn’t bad either.

"Um... I’ll go back to my room..."

She meant to say she wanted to go change clothes first, but before she could finish the sentence, she stiffened because as she stood, the tie on her towel loosened, and it directly fell.

"..."

She wanted to bend down to pick up the towel, but suddenly the man’s figure leaned over her, and his pure, intense male scent overwhelmed her senses, making her forget to move.

He didn’t directly touch her, only propped his arms on either side of her, enveloping her within his arms, but she had nothing on, and his suit jacket barely brushed against her skin. This unintentional tease was much more crazy-making than deliberate seduction.

In the already small living room, the ambiance of intimacy rose sharply, and she could also feel his body’s tension.

"Should we... go to the bed..."

Her sudden words caught him off guard: "What did you say..."

At this moment, a rhythmic knocking resounded, breaking the indoor idyll.

Not only that, upon hearing this knocking, her face changed dramatically.

Quickly pushing Durrell Landon aside, she pulled him towards the bedroom.

She opened the closet and took out a set of clothes, quickly throwing them on, then stuffed Durrell Landon inside.

"You hide here for now!"

Durrell Landon: "..."

Why does this scene seem so familiar?

Who is it knocking who knows her so well?

Thinking of this, his gaze deepened, suppressing his displeasure, lowering his voice:

"Why should I hide in this closet? Do you know who’s knocking?"

That’s Nathan Firth’s habit. The knocking beat just now was a prelude to a requiem, which he liked very much and unconsciously knocked it every time.

However, she worried that if Durrell Landon and Nathan Firth really met in this apartment, they’d tear the place down.

Reluctantly speaking up: "There’s not many who know this apartment. I’m worried it might be a sasaeng fan, as you know they can be crazy. My anti-fans are many too. Finding out I live here is possible, but if they know you’re staying too, I’d seem like a small star clinging to your resources."

After Quiana Sutton finished, she looked at Durrell Landon with some apprehension. She knew it sounded far-fetched, but she couldn’t care less.

Durrell Landon remained still, watching her. Her lying skills had truly improved significantly.

The sudden change in her eyes clearly indicated she knew who was knocking.

Yet he didn’t call her out.

Quiana Sutton went to open the door, knowing that if she didn’t, Nathan Firth would keep knocking, eventually attracting other residents’ attention, making her situation worse.

Nathan Firth had been knocking for a long time before Quiana Sutton finally opened the door, his deep eyes as cold as ice submerged in a thousand-year-old icy pool.

"Are you surprised to see me?"

Quiana Sutton leaned against the door, not letting him in.

"What do you want with me?"