Ambergris Locakboxes Traveled Salt Routes by Hugh Calder 87

Chapter Eighty–Seven: A Hot Kiss.

Right in front of her stood her ex–husband, Dreston Tremont. Just for a brief moment, Cassienne forgot how to

breathe.

He looked nothing like the rigid, always–polished CEO she had grown used to seeing in boardrooms and tailored suits. Instead, he looked like a sports celebrity who had just stepped out of a high–end fitness commercial.

He was dressed almost the same way Corren was–sporty, casual, relaxed–but in crisp white athletic wear instead. Different designer, and different aura.

What unsettled her most, however, was his hair.

His black curls had escaped whatever discipline he had tried to impose on them, falling freely over his forehead. The soft disorder of it framed his face in a way that made him look dangerously tempting. He looked younger and less guarded.

Cassienne’s mind went blank.

“Good morning, Cass,” Dreston said softly, his voice calm, almost gentle. “Can I come in?”

She stared at him, her thoughts tumbling over one another. Why was he here?

And dressed like this? Then it hit her.

Her gaze flicked briefly to the two women standing outside her door, the so–called bodyguards. An instant scoff escaped her lips as understanding dawned on her.

They weren’t just here to protect her. They were here to watch her, and to report her to him.

The realization irritated her instantly, flipping a switch inside her chest. Her mood shifted, her jaw tightening as she looked back at Dreston.

“Why are you here?” she asked him without a care, like he meant nothing to her

The tone of her voice was cold and unwelcoming.

Dreston felt her irritation immediately. The harshness of her words hit him harder than he expected, and something flickered briefly in his eyes.

“That’s not the right way to talk to me, Cassienne,” he replied, his voice firm but restrained.

She didn’t budge.

“I asked what brought you here,” she said flatly. “And if you can’t explain, I was about to go out with a friend. So if you don’t mind-‘

She didn’t get to finish her sentence because,

Dreston stepped forward abruptly, pushing past her and into the apartment without invitation. His body brushed against hers as he crossed the threshold, the contact brief but unmistakable.

“What was that?” Cassienne gasped as she turned and slammed the door shut behind them.

Chapter Eighty–Seven A Hot Kiss.

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Her heart pounded–not from attraction this time, but anger. She followed him into the living room, fury rising with every step she took.

Then, Dreston stopped suddenly.

“What are you doing here?” he snapped, his voice dark with accusation. “Dressed like that?”

His fists were clenched tightly at his sides, knuckles whitening. But he wasn’t talking to her. He was staring straight at Corren.

Corren sat casually on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other, completely unbothered. He let out a scoff but didn’t bother replying.

Cassienne stood behind Dreston now, her anger reaching a boiling point.

“Dreston!” she shouted.

And he spun around instantly.

The look in his eyes was no longer playful or restrained. It was raw. Jealous, burning.

“Why is he in your house this early in the morning?” he demanded. “And dressed like that?”

Cassienne shut her eyes briefly, trying to keep herself from exploding.

How dare he?

How dare he storm into her home unannounced and interrogate her like he still had ownership over her life? And when she opened her eyes again, the rage in them was unmistakable.

“Should I remind you of your place, Mr. Tremont?”

He flinched.

The formality stung more than any insult could have. Hearing his name said that way, in a cold, distant, and official way, felt like being erased.

“You have no right to come into my house uninvited,” she continued, her voice steady but blazing beneath the surface. “And you certainly don’t get to embarrass my guest like that.”

She stepped closer, unafraid.

“If anyone isn’t welcome here, it’s you. So tell me, why are you here this early in my house?”

“That still hasn’t answered my question,” Dreston shot back. “And you don’t get to talk to me like that. I demand an answer.”

Cassienne laughed. She really laughed, and it was amusing.

“Are you being serious right now?” Her hands flew up dramatically. “May I remind you of your place?”

They both glared at each other, neither willing to back down. But Cassienne wasn’t done.

“You and I are finished, Dreston,” she said firmly. “Remember? We’re divorced. Capital D–I–V–O–R–C–E–D.”

Chapter Eighty–Seven A Hot Kiss.

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She emphasized every letter.

“If you want to remain my friend, then you need to accept that fact and stop interfering in my personal life.”

Dreston’s eyes burned.

He knew she was right–but accepting it was another thing entirely.

“I won’t dig up the past,” Cassienne added. “But if you want the truth… Corren and I are together.”

The words stung. Dreston stared at her. For a moment, he didn’t move, and he didn’t breathe. His mind refused to process what she had just said.

But then he laughed. A deep, disbelieving laugh burst from his chest.

“You can’t be serious,” he said, pointing at her like she was joking. “You? In a relationship with him?”

His gaze flicked briefly toward Corren.

Corren’s brows drew together in irritation, but he stayed silent.

Cassienne’s fury exploded.

She couldn’t think of a single thing to say that would make him stop. That realization enraged her even mo.

“Don’t insult me,” Dreston continued bitterly. “Those five years weren’t a joke. We had problems, yes, but we can fix them.” (1

That was it. Cassienne snapped.

She marched straight to Corren, grabbed his shirt in a tight fist, and yanked him up from the sofa. Without hesitation, she smashed her lips against his. It was a hot kiss.

Dreston froze. His heart stopped completely, and his eyes widened in pure disbelief.

Cassienne deepened the kiss, her anger fueling every second of it. Corren was shocked at first–but when he realized what she was doing, he didn’t pull away.

Instead, he played along.

His hand slid into her hair, gripping firmly as he adjusted her position and took control of the kiss, just enough to make it convincing.

But Cassienne pulled back quickly. Her eyes were red. Her breathing, uneven.

She turned to Dreston, who looked like the ground had just been ripped from beneath his feet. 1

“Does that look like a joke to you now?” she asked coldly.

Dreston closed his eyes. He couldn’t look at her anymore.

Without another word, he turned and walked away. The door opened. Then closed.

The silence that followed was deafening. And that was when Cassienne broke down.

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