Cross My Tigress Face the Wrath (Stella) novel Chapter 653

Stella absolutely refused to shower together, but honestly, she was no match for Ronald.

One hour later...

Stella’s cheeks were flushed pink as Ronald dried her hair for her. Pouting, she shot a glare at the man in the mirror.

Her hair was finally dry.

Ronald leaned down, brushing his lips against her ear. “Why the face, Star? Not satisfied?”

Stella: “!!!”

Satisfied? Was he kidding?

The whole time, it was basically for his benefit...

Ugh. She was going to lose her mind. Seriously, how had she never realized what a menace this man could be?

Stella scrunched up her nose, shooting him a look full of indignation.

Ronald caught her glare and just grinned even more wickedly. “Star, so maybe...?”

“Stop. My mom said you’re not allowed to lay a finger on me for three months.”

Ronald grabbed her hand, scooped her up, and carried her straight to the bed.

Fresh out of the shower, his body was still radiating heat.

Stella stammered, “Wh-what are you doing?”

Ronald set her down on the bed, snatched up his phone, and immediately dialed Finley Yoder.

The line picked up quickly. Finley’s voice came through, dry and exhausted: “What do you want?”

Time zones being what they were, it was still daylight where Finley was.

Ronald: “Can I trust your medical expertise?”

“What?”

“I mean—is it really true? Pregnant women, first three months, absolutely nothing?”

Finley: “!!!”

At that moment, Finley was staring out at endless dunes, just sand upon sand, stretching out as far as the eye could see—bleak, hopeless.

He glanced down at his water bottle, now barely a third full.

He wasn’t just thirsty—he was parched. So parched he was rationing every drop.

And here Ronald was, living the good life.

Right then and there, Finley’s irritation twisted into a mischievous grin. “Nope. Not allowed.”

Three simple words, delivered with relish.

“Dr. Yoder, we should get moving.”

“I’m coming,” Finley replied, standing up and brushing sand off his jeans. His mouth was bone dry, but he only allowed himself a tiny sip of water.

“How long to the next stop?” he asked.

“About half a day, sorry again, Dr. Yoder. Taking the wrong turn really messed us up.”

Finley just grunted.

A wrong turn? That was putting it mildly. What should’ve been a three-hour drive had turned into a whole day’s ordeal.

To make matters worse, the car had broken down halfway.

No way was he wasting his water now.

Totally unreliable. This whole trip was a mess.

He’d only walked a few steps when his phone started buzzing again—it was Idris calling.

Just the thought of anyone from Ronald’s circle made Finley’s blood boil.

He answered, thoroughly annoyed. “Yeah?”

“Mr. Yoder.”

“What do you want?” Finley snapped.