American variety show: Sniper Elite

Chapter 22 Ashley

Beta landed in Casablanca, Morocco, with Matilda.

He easily checked in using a single mainland hotel gold coin. No identification or passport was needed; anyone could check in as long as they had the gold coin.

Pushing open the heavy solid wood door, the luxurious atmosphere that greets you contrasts sharply with the somewhat dilapidated cityscape outside the window.

The interior design of the mainland hotel is exquisitely refined: the water flow in the heated massage bathtub is automatically adjusted, the sensor-activated crystal chandelier lights up gradually with each step, and even the gold-plated faucets in the bathroom exude a subtle yet luxurious luster. Every detail silently embodies the word "top-tier."

Beta placed Matilda's luggage on the carpet and turned to ask, "What would you like for dinner, Matilda?"

Matilda pulled a crumpled Paddington Bear plush toy from her backpack and replied casually, "Whatever."

Beta scratched his forehead: "Do all women, regardless of age, love to use this word?"

Matilda sank into the leather sofa, hugged her plush toy, and shrugged. "Hmm."

Her calves swung gently in the air, her eyes fixed on the magnificent crystal chandelier on the ceiling.

Beta smiled. "Want to learn a little trick to make your future husband listen to you completely?"

Matilda sat up straight: "Of course!"

“Listen,” Beta gestured thoughtfully, “Men are like computers on standby. First, you need an activation word.”

He held up his index finger: "Like 'darling' or a special nickname. It's like pressing the power button."

Matilda nodded seriously and hugged Paddington Bear to her chest.

“Then,” Beta continued, “you have to give precise instructions. For example, instead of saying ‘steak for dinner,’ say: ‘Honey, please buy 1 kilogram of steak, sear it in butter until lightly browned on both sides, serve with 200 grams of broccoli and 6 cherry tomatoes, and finally drizzle with black pepper sauce.’” He mimicked a gentle but precise tone.

“Like this,” Beta blinked, “as long as the other person is intelligent enough, you can have a perfect dinner when you get home. Do you understand the programming logic?”

Matilda thought for a moment, then smiled. "Now, dear Uncle Saron, please order me a 300-gram tiramisu, with double the amount of coffee and cocoa powder."

Beta snapped her fingers crisply, smiling as she pointed at Matilda: "Very good, you've mastered the core skills. Believe me, you'll be an excellent wife, and your future husband will become a model husband because of it."

Matilda asked curiously, "Is this some kind of profound psychological principle?"

"Ha!" A sly glint flashed in Beta's eyes. "Quite the opposite, this is basic infant psychology; any kindergarten teacher could give you a lesson like that."

“Huh?” Matilda, holding Paddington Bear, was clearly puzzled by the unexpected answer.

Beta leaned back on the leather sofa, a playful glint in her eyes: "Male psychology is a fascinating field. In reality, most husbands only need three things: clear instructions, positive reinforcement upon completion, and appropriate small rewards. In this positive feedback loop, men become increasingly excellent, like well-trained dolphins."

“It’s a pity,” he shrugged. “Many wives are either vague or stingy with praise, turning what should be a harmonious family into a battlefield of mutual torment.”

Beta looked at Matilda meaningfully: "Remember this principle, and your future married life will be much easier."

Matilda said, "You know a lot."

Beta replied, "Professionalism."

Suddenly, the doorbell rang urgently.

Beta drew his Glock pistol from his waist with his right hand, while simultaneously making a concealed gesture to Matilda with his left. He slowly moved towards the door and cautiously opened it a crack. The instant the door opened, a hand suddenly reached in and precisely grabbed Beta's collar.

Beta did not resist, letting the other person push him into the room. With a "bang," the door slammed shut and locked automatically.

Before Beta could even regain his footing, he was pounced on and pinned to the ground by the newcomer. The other person straddled his waist, firmly pinning him down.

Beta exclaimed in surprise, "Ashley? What are you doing here?"

Ashley, who was currently on top of him, was a typical Italian beauty. Around twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old, her neat, short hair framing her face made her look even more capable.

She wore a well-tailored grey women's suit and flat leather shoes, with the outline of a pistol holster faintly visible at her waist. She exuded the sharp, professional aura characteristic of a bodyguard, her every move displaying both feminine charm and undeniable professional competence.

Ashley bit her lower lip, her burning gaze fixed on Beta, who was pinned beneath her, her voice tinged with reproach: "You bastard, you sneaked off to Casablanca and didn't even contact me?"

Beta couldn't help but laugh: "You cunning little fox, how did you find me?"

Ashley didn't answer, but simply took off her suit jacket, casually unholstered her gun, and tossed it onto the floor beside her, along with her pistol.

She leaned down, pressed close to Beta, and whispered in his ear, her breath hot: "Hurry, darling, I only have 40 minutes. Antonio is leaving in 40 minutes."

Beta grabbed Ashley by the waist and lifted her to her feet. Ashley wrapped her long legs around his waist, cupped his face in her hands, and pressed her red lips firmly against his, the passionate kiss producing an ambiguous "smack" sound.

“Wait,” Beta said with difficulty, her voice hoarse, “there’s a minor here. Let her leave for a moment.”

Ashley then released his lips, her once-delicate lipstick now mostly smudged, all over Beta's lips and cheeks.

She squinted, looking in the direction Beta indicated: "Underage? That little girl?"

The next second, she grabbed Beta by the collar, her eyes narrowing dangerously: "Who is she?!"

Beta quickly raised his hands to show his innocence: "Calm down, honey, she's my friend's daughter. I brought her here to lay low for a bit."

“You better not be lying to me.” Ashley turned to Matilda with a professional smile. “Honey, could you please go back to your room for a bit? We have some adult matters to discuss.”

Matilda nodded, quickly went into her room, and gently closed the door behind her.

Beta, carrying Ashley, strode toward the master bedroom.

He deftly closed the door with his heel, and with a soft click, the two of them tumbled onto the soft bed. Ashley's hair was scattered on the pillow, her gray suit jacket was nowhere to be seen, and her shirt collar was slightly open.

“Forty minutes,” Beta whispered in her ear, her fingers deftly unbuttoning her shirt. “Looks like we need to hurry.”

Ashley chuckled, wrapping her long legs around his waist. "Then let's not waste time, darling."

Her voice was slightly hoarse with desire, and her fingers had already slipped inside Beta's collar.

Outside the window, the Casablanca sunset cast its last rays into the room, bathing the long-separated lovers in a golden glow.

　As the story unfolds, various characters begin to appear, and their stories will continue to unfold.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)