Substitute Bride: Utterly Pampered by Her Billionaire Husband-Chapter 1175: Do You Regret It?

Dianna was taken aback, not expecting him to return, even less so with red roses for her.

This was the first time he gave her red roses.

Seeing his awkward and stiff manner, Dianna broke into a smile through her tears, "Where did the roses come from? You were only out for a short while; it’s impossible you went out to buy them."

"Picked from the backyard garden."

"... I don’t want them!"

"Then what do you want? I’ll go buy it for you, but you can’t run away. I’m afraid if I go out, you’ll leave." Mort Thorne said with a dark, handsome face. It’s not that he wasn’t sincere; he was just afraid that if he moved too slowly, she’d run away.

Dianna softened inside, reached out, and took the roses.

The bed sank a bit as Mort sat down, his strong back facing her, and he cursed in a low voice, "Dianna, you’re really something. I even went out, and you didn’t chase after me!"

Dianna was initially very sad, but upon hearing these words, a smile secretly crept up the corners of her lips. Mort, the man she loved.

She looked at his back as he angrily sat on the bed, unsure if he was still mad or just stubbornly holding on to his pride. His tall and muscular figure bent down, grabbed a pack of cigarettes, and took one out to light.

Dianna quickly stretched out her little foot to kick him, "No smoking!"

Not allowed to touch her, not allowed to smoke. Mort’s cold, handsome face turned as dark as coal, his rough fingers crumpling the cigarette and the pack before tossing them into the trash, his brows furrowed in frustration.

Turning slightly, he caught a glimpse of her little foot, freshly kicked against him, now resting by his sturdy thigh. She wore a pair of pink socks, which had slipped off, revealing her tender toes, white like fresh bean sprouts.

Mort’s throat moved up and down, and with his rough large hand, he grabbed her little foot, placing it on his thigh, and lowered his gaze to put that pink sock back on for her.

"Still mad?" he asked her in a steady voice.

Dianna wasn’t mad at him anymore; she was mad at herself, but now all anger was gone. Watching him put her sock on, she felt completely at ease.

She remained silent, so Mort raised his sharp brow and dropped her foot. He stretched out his long legs to the bedside table and pulled open the drawer, taking out a small knife.

The sharp blade gleamed with a cold white light. Dianna was startled, "Mort, what are you doing?"

Mort gave her a look, "If you’re still mad, then give me a cut."

Dianna’s black and white pupils shrunk suddenly, her frail body lunged forward as she hugged him tightly, "Mort, you’re crazy!"

Mort immediately discarded the knife and embraced her in his arms, looking down at her, his blood-red eyes showing a mix of aggression and softness, "Still mad?"

Dianna was overwhelmed by him, her small hand squeezing his firm abs with all her might, but couldn’t make a dent as they were hard like iron, "You’re doing this on purpose, purposely scaring me."

Mort snorted coldly, "Then how should I comfort you? Tell me."

Dianna saw him back down step by step, her heart aching, "Mort, I’m sorry!"

Mort stared at her small oval face, her fair eye rims were still red and misty inside, her eyelashes blinking pitifully; it melted his heart.

"Dianna, what’s really wrong?"

Dianna didn’t want to say anything, "Mort, I want to go to the bathroom."

Mort released her and got up.

But the soft little body adhered again, two small hands wrapped around his neck, "Hold me."

Hold me.

Those two soft, coy words from her made Mort’s whole body tingle; at this moment, he’d give her his life if she asked for it.

Mort felt since meeting this girl named Dianna, he was entrapped by her.

With powerful arms encircling her narrow waist, he effortlessly lifted her. A man over six feet tall, carrying the girl to the bathroom, he supported her pert little bottom with a large hand, chuckling low, "I can’t expect you to bear children for me."

Dianna’s two small hands wrapped around his neck, her slender legs entwined around his strong waist and abdomen, burying her small face in his neck. She confusedly murmured, "Huh?"

"If you have a baby, I bet you’d compete with them for attention."

"..."

Dianna felt like she’d eaten a piece of candy, the sweet sensation spreading all the way to her heart. Wasn’t he cuddling her now just like he would his daughter?

...

Dianna was placed on the toilet, "You go out first."

Mort held her sanitary pad in his hand and glanced at her, "Want me to change it for you?"

Dianna snatched the pad and threw it hard onto his mischievously handsome face.

Mort chuckled lowly, amused, stuffing his hand in his pants pocket. Bowing to pick up the pad from the carpet, he handed it back to her small hand, then turned and leaned against the wall to wait for her.

After she was done, Mort came over and lifted her again, helping her wash her hands with warm water before placing her back on the bed.

Dianna still clung to his neck, refusing to let go.

Now Mort knelt with one long leg on the bed, the other dropped to the carpet, the girl tangled around him, his large hands bracing on either side of her, careful not to press her, "Let go! If you don’t let go, I’ll..."

Dianna gazed at his handsome, cold face, "If you want to, go find another woman."

Mort retorted, "You’re relentless, aren’t you?"

He stretched out his rough hand, pulling down the two small hands clasped around his neck, then got up and walked away.

He didn’t leave but bent down to tidy the messy room, scattered with documents, fruits, and the broken rattan chair.

He didn’t call the servants in to clean up, choosing to do it himself.

Dianna watched him, as he bent over, the thin black shirt revealing the taut muscles of his arms and abs, his long legs looking exceptionally lengthy, the tight lines of his hips sensual beyond any woman’s.

She climbed out of bed and rushed to embrace his strong waist.

Mort stiffened, standing up straight quickly, holding a crumpled document in his hand, "Dianna, are you starting to regret this?"

What?

Dianna froze.

"I know being with me is difficult, are you starting to regret it?"

If she wasn’t regretting, why did she tell him to find another woman?

If she wasn’t regretting, why did she suddenly lose her temper?

It’s said if women show these behaviors, it means they want a new boyfriend.

Dianna’s heart suddenly ached, knowing her bad mood had seriously affected him. She rubbed her small face against his robust back, "Mort, I don’t regret it, really."

Mort’s handsome eyebrows relaxed, he quickly turned around, his rough thumb stroking her delicate cheek, "Really? Then tell me, what’s wrong?"