Read The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins novel by Artemis Z.Y. Updated 2025 -26 - The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins Chapter 60

The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins Chapter 60

Paradise Lost

**Mia’s POV**

The bass throbbed through my bones as I threw back another shot of tequila. The salt lingered on my tongue, mixing with the lime’s tartness in a way that made my head spin pleasantly. Paradise’s blue lights painted everything in dreamy shades, making the whole scene feel surreal.

“Another round?” Daniel grinned, already signaling the waitress. His dancer outfit glittered under the strobing lights, though he’d put on a mesh shirt after his performance. Up close, his warm brown eyes held an intelligence that seemed at odds with the setting.

“Why not?” I laughed, feeling lighter than I had in months. “It’s Scarlett’s birthday after all.” I gestured vaguely toward where my friend was thoroughly enjoying herself with one of the other dancers.

“Speaking of Scarlett…” Daniel’s eyes twinkled as he poured fresh shots. “She seems to be having an excellent time with Jake.”

I turned to see Scarlett locked in what could only be described as an enthusiastic kiss with her dancer. “Oh my god,” Igiggled, the alcohol making everything funnier than it should be. “They really need to get a room.”

“Private rooms are available,” Daniel waggled his eyebrows suggestively, then burst out laughing at my expression. “I’m kidding! Well, mostly. Though Jake might make an exception for the birthday girl.”

The tequila had loosened my tongue enough to ask what I’d been wondering. “So… medical student, huh?”

He had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. “Yeah, fourth year. Loans are brutal, and this pays better than most part–time jobs. Plus,” he flexed playfully, “keeps me in shape for anatomy class.”

I snorted into my drink. “That was terrible.”

“Made you laugh though.” He poured another round. “What about you? Still married to Mr. Scary Corporate?”

“Complicated,” I managed, the word slurring slightly. “Very, very complicated.”

“Isn’t it always?” Another dancer approached our table – Connor, I remembered hazily from his earlier introduction. All golden skin and sculpted muscles, like a Greek statue come to life.

“Mind if I join?” Connor’s voice was pure velvet as he slid into the booth beside me. “Daniel here’s hogging all your attention.”

“Plenty to go around,” I heard myself say, then clapped a hand over my mouth, shocked at my own boldness. The tequila was definitely hitting hard now.

Both men laughed, not unkindly. “Oh, I like her,” Connor told Daniel. “She’s fun when she loosens up.”

“Much better than the café version,” Daniel agreed. “Though I still have the bruise from where your husband grabbed me.”

“Ex–husband,” I corrected automatically, then frowned. “Well, almost ex. Soon–to–be ex?” The terminology felt complicated in my alcohol–fuzzy brain.

Paradise Lost

“Sounds like a story there,” Connor observed, sliding closer. His arm brushed mine, radiating heat. “Want to talk about it?”

“God no,” I laughed, talding another shot. “I want to forget about it. All of it. Just for tonight.”

“That,” Daniel raised his glass, “we can help with.”

More drinks, laughter, and increasingly flirtatious conversation. Connor turned out to be surprisingly funny, telling outrageous stories about his clients that had me gasping with laughter. Daniel kept the drinks flowing, matching me shot for shot.

“You should feel these abs,” Connor suggested at one point, guide my hand to his ridiculous six–pack. “All natural, I swear.”

“Liar,” Daniel scoffed. “I’ve seen your protein shake collection.”

I found myself giggling as I traced the defined muscles. “So smooth! How much body oil do you guys go through?

“You don’t want to know,” both men answered in unison, setting off another round of laughter.

“My turn,” Daniel insisted, flexing his bicep. “Superior medical student muscles.”

“Please,” Connor rolled his eyes. “I could bench press you.”

“Is that a challenge?”

Their playful bickering washed over me as I sank deeper into the plush booth, feeling wonderfully disconnected from reality. Here, in this blue–lit paradise, I wasn’t Mia Branson with all her complications. I was just a woman having fun with two ridiculously attractive men who seemed genuinely interested in making me laugh.

“You have the most amazing eyes,” Connor observed, leaning close. “They catch the light like emeralds.”

“Smooth talker,” I accused, poking his chest.

“Professional requirement,” he admitted with a wink. “But I mean it.”

Daniel made a gagging noise. “Amateur. Watch and learn.” He cleared his throat dramatically. “Your eyes. remind me of the rare Madagascan emerald butterfly, scientifically known as

“Oh my god, stop!” I was laughing so hard my sides hurt. “You’re both terrible!” Thɪs chapter is updated by FindN()vel.net

“We’re delightful,” Connor corrected, his hand finding my knee under the table. “And you’re beautiful when you laugh.”

The rational part of my brain knew I should move his hand. But the tequila had drowned that voice hours ago, replacing it with a warm buzz that made everything feel consequence–free.

“Dance with me?” Connor suggested, his thumb tracing small circles that sent shivers up my spine.

“Both of us,” Daniel added quickly. “Safety in numbers, right?”

I was about to answer when a familiar voice cut through the music like a blade of ice.

Paradise Lost

“What the fuck is this?”

Kyle stood at our table, his expression thunderous. Even through my alcoholic haze, I recognized that particular shade of rage in his eyes. His perfectly tailored suit looked out of place among Paradise’s glitter and skin, but his presence filled the space like a gathering storm.

“Kyle?” My tongue felt thick. “What’re you doing here?”

His hand shot out, grabbing my wrist hard enough to make me gasp. “We’re leaving. Now.”

“Hey!” Daniel stood, doctor’s instincts overriding self–preservation. “You’re hurting her!”

“Back off,” Kyle’s voice could have frozen hell itself. “This doesn’t concern you.”

Connor rose as well, all playfulness gone, “This is our club, and we don’t allow=”

Kyle’s laugh was harsh. “I own the building. And everything in it.” His grip tightened. “Including

“Your club?” your contracts.”

The world spun sickeningly as he pulled me to my feet. “Kyle, stop! It hurts!”

“Get her things,” Kyle ordered someone – probably security, given how quickly a coat appeared.

“We’re leaving.

Everything was moving too fast. The room tilted at odd angles as Kyle half–dragged, half–carried me toward the exit. My head felt stuffed with cotton, my limbs heavy and uncoordinated.

The cool night air hit me like a slap, making my stomach roll unpleasantly. Kyle’s Bentley waited at the curb, Andrew holding the door with a carefully blank expression.

“Get in.”

“No,” I tried to pull away, but my legs wouldn’t cooperate. “You don’t get to control me!”

“You’re drunk,” he stated flatly.

The world went sideways as he simply picked me up, ignoring my weak struggles. The leather seats were cool against my overheated skin as he deposited me in the car.

“Take us home,” he ordered Andrew, sliding in beside me. “And call Dr. John. Tell him to meet us there.”

“You can’t just-“My protest ended in a hiccup as my stomach lurched. “Pull over! I’m gonna be sick!”

The car swerved smoothly to the curb. Kyle held my hair as I emptied my stomach into the gutter, his other hand steady on my back.

“Better?” His voice was softer now, almost gentle.

I thought I hear mine giggling, “I think….I threw up….on the great Kyle Branson’s suit.”