Sweet Mischief’s Rollercoaster Romance novel Chapter 1638

At the office, Milka kept checking her phone, opening up Mars’s chat over and over, but she just couldn’t figure out what to say. After a lot of back-and-forth, she finally typed, “Did you leave my place yet?”

Mars shot back, full of mischief: “Hung your towel out on the balcony after I used it.”

Milka just stared at her screen: “…”

As soon as work was over, she grabbed her bag and bolted.

Director Grant had planned to ask her to dinner, but all he caught was the sight of her hurrying away. “How did Milka get here today?” he wondered aloud.

“No clue. I think she drove,” someone said.

Grant frowned, watching her go. She’d just come back from overseas—she couldn’t have bought a car that fast, could she? He’d heard her dad was high up in the military. Maybe she’d borrowed his car?

Making a mental note to check her plates next time, Grant started plotting—if he could get in good with Milka’s family, his future wouldn’t stop at this company. His ambition was written all over his face as he watched her disappear.

Milka got home and headed straight upstairs to her room. She opened the door—the balcony was empty, her bed was neatly made, and on her desk was a piece of paper and a pen.

She walked over and picked it up: a rough sketch of a piglet, with an arrow and a note—“This one’s called Silly Piggy Ying.”

Milka couldn’t help but laugh. “Stupid Mars, always picking on me,” she grumbled, but she tucked the paper away carefully before heading downstairs.

Meanwhile, Mars had been hoofing it everywhere lately. The day he went to Maplewood Estates to visit his godson, he rode a shared bike all the way to the gate.

The guard did a double take. “Mars?”

“Yep, that’s me.” Mars flashed a grin. “Mind opening up? I’m riding in.”

Inside, Andre was battling his own frustrations with his son. No one had warned him that raising a boy would be so exhausting.

Mars smirked. “A taxi can’t get past your gate, but a bike can. Plus, if I’d taken a cab, you wouldn’t have asked, and I wouldn’t get to brag about Milka using my car.”

Andre wondered, not for the first time, if his friend had a screw loose.

A few minutes later, the housekeeper brought Mars a cup of gardenia tea. He took a sip and made a face. “Bitter and cold. When did you start drinking this, Andre?”

Andre took a deep breath. “It helps me cool off.”

Then he glared at the main reason he needed cooling off. Henry, ever the rascal, curled up in his goddad’s lap, avoiding his dad’s eyes.

“Where’s your wife, anyway?” Mars asked, glancing around.

Andre’s expression darkened as he shot Henry another glare. “She ran off.”