CEO's Regret After I Divorced Chapter 89 The way she tests him

Serena’s POV

I’d packed most of my things into two suitcases. No sense staying at Maya’s anymore—I no longer needed to hide from Ryan.

"You sure you’re ready to move back?" Maya asked, helping with one of my bags. "My door’s always open."

"I’m good," I assured her as we headed downstairs. "Hiding from Ryan was getting exhausting anyway. Besides, I miss my own space."

Maya laughed. "Your ’space’ that you’ve barely lived in for weeks?"

"It’s still mine."

We pushed through the building’s front doors, and I froze. Ryan was standing there, looking unfairly handso in dark jeans and a navy button-up, holding a bouquet of violets—my favorites.

"What’s he doing here?" Maya whispered.

"No idea," I muttered, my heart doing an annoying little flip.

Ryan approached us with that confident stride that always made heads turn. "Serena," he said, his voice deep and rich. "I thought you might need a ride ho."

I raised an eyebrow. "And you just happened to bring flowers?"

"These?" He glanced at the bouquet like he’d forgotten it was there. "Just sothing I picked up on the way."

Maya snorted beside . "Right, because everyone casually picks up custom arrangents."

I bit back a smile. "I already have a ride, Ryan."

"Of course," he nodded, then looked at Maya. "Mind if I steal her? I’d like to talk about so... parenting arrangents."

The "parenting" card. Clever. Maya looked at questioningly, and I shrugged.

"Fine," I sighed dramatically. "I guess you can drive . He is the babies’ daddy after all," I added to Maya with an exaggerated eye roll.

Maya looked suspicious but helped transfer my bags to Ryan’s car. "Call later," she ordered, giving Ryan a warning glare that clearly said "hurt her and die."

"You didn’t have to co," I said once we were alone in the car.

"I wanted to." Ryan took both my suitcases like they weighed nothing. "You shouldn’t be lifting heavy things anyway."

I rolled my eyes. "I’m pregnant, not made of glass."

"Humor ."

The drive to my apartnt was quiet but not totally uncomfortable. I caught him glancing at my belly several tis.

"They’re not going to start kicking while you’re driving," I said dryly.

His lips twitched. "Have you felt them move yet?"

"Little flutters. Nothing dramatic."

"Are you hungry?" he asked .

I was about to say no when my stomach growled loudly. Traitor.

Ryan laughed. "I’ll take that as a yes."

Then Ryan drove us to this little Italian place I’d ntioned loving once.

The fact that he rembered made sothing warm bloom in my chest, which I promptly squashed down. I wasn’t going to get all gooey just because he had good recall.

The food was amazing—all carbs and cheese, exactly what my pregnant body craved. I moaned slightly around a forkful of lasagna, then caught Ryan staring.

"What?" I asked, mouth half full.

"Nothing," he said, clearing his throat. "Just... glad you’re enjoying it."

After dinner, we headed to my apartnt. I hadn’t been there in weeks, and when I opened the door, I grimaced at the thin layer of dust covering everything.

"Well, this is depressing," I muttered, dropping my purse on the counter.

I pulled out my phone, ready to call a cleaning service, when I glanced at Ryan standing awkwardly in my living room. A delicious idea ford in my mind.

"You know," I said slowly, "if you really want to prove how serious you are about making ands..."

Ryan’s eyes narrowed slightly. "What did you have in mind?"

I smiled sweetly and handed him a duster from my hall closet. "My apartnt needs cleaning."

His eyebrows shot up. "You want to clean your apartnt?"

"Is that a problem? I an, I am carrying your children. The least you could do is make sure we have a dust-free environnt."

I expected resistance, maybe even that famous Blackwood coldness. Instead, Ryan rolled up his expensive shirt sleeves and took the duster.

"Where do I start?"

For the next two hours, I watched in amazent as Ryan Blackwood—billionaire CEO who probably had never held a mop in his life—cleaned my entire apartnt.

He dusted, vacuud, mopped, and even scrubbed the bathroom tiles. When he asked for specific instructions, I kept adding new tasks, testing his limits.

"The top of the fridge needs wiping too."

"Don’t forget under the couch."

"The windows are looking streaky."

Not once did he complain. In fact, he seed determined to do everything perfectly, his jaw set in that stubborn way I used to find infuriating but now found oddly endearing.

When he finally finished, his hair was damp with sweat and his expensive shirt had water stains. He looked thoroughly un-CEO-like, and I couldn’t stop staring.

"Here," I handed him a glass of ice water. "You earned it."

He drank it in one long gulp, his throat working in a way that made my mouth go dry.

"Thank you," I said, aning it. "I didn’t actually expect you to do all that."

"I’d do anything for you, Serena. I think I’ve made that clear."he replied, setting the empty glass down and moving closer to .

My back hit the wall before I realized I’d been retreating. Ryan placed one hand on the wall beside my head, effectively caging in.

"Now that I’ve proven my dostic skills," he murmured, his face inches from mine, "what else can I do to impress you?"

His cologne mixed with the scent of cleaning supplies should not have been sexy, but sohow it was. My heart raced as his free hand gently tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Ryan," I breathed, hating how breathless I sounded.

"Yes?" His lips were so close now I could feel his breath on mine.

I should have said stop. Instead, I leaned forward slightly, and that was all the invitation he needed.

His lips touched mine, gentle at first, then hungrier when I didn’t pull away. My hands found their way to his chest, feeling his heartbeat racing beneath my palm. God, I’d missed this—missed him—more than I wanted to admit.

When his hands slid down to my waist, pulling closer, heat flooded through . My pregnancy hormones were going wild, and for a mont I seriously considered dragging him to my bedroom.

But then I rembered my promise to myself. No more giving in too easily.

I ducked under his arm and danced away, grabbing his expensive jacket from the chair.

"Thanks for your help," I said brightly, holding the door open. "Really appreciated it. Bye now!"

The confusion on his face was priceless. "Serena, what—"

"It’s getting late," I interrupted, shoving his jacket into his chest. "And pregnant ladies need their rest."

Before he could protest, I practically pushed him through the doorway. As he turned to say sothing, I smiled sweetly.

"Next ti, bring gloves. My oven needs cleaning too."

And with that, I shut the door in his handso face, leaning against it with a breathless laugh. Through the door, I heard a low chuckle that sent shivers down my spine.

"Sweet dreams, Serena," he called out, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

Damn him. This was supposed to be getting revenge, not him enjoying it. But as I touched my fingers to my lips, rembering how close he’d been, I couldn’t help but smile too.

Ga on, Ryan Blackwood.