Chapter 36
The moment Damien Prescott ended his sentence, a shrill scream pierced through the elegant ambiance of the restaurant.
Lucian Ashford’s blood ran cold as realization struck—Vanessa Delacroix was still inside. That woman never knew when to hold her tongue. Leaving her alone with Evelyn Sinclair was practically inviting disaster!
“Damien, something’s happened! I have to go—we’ll talk tomorrow!” Lucian was about to hang up when Damien’s sharp voice cut through.
“Where are you?”
Another scream, even more ear-splitting than the first, echoed through the phone.
“At the Trivedian in Whitmore Grand Hotel!” Lucian snapped before sprinting back toward the restaurant.
The scene that greeted him when he shoved the door open was nothing short of jaw-dropping.
Evelyn had Vanessa in a merciless grip—one hand fisted in her perfectly styled hair, the other pressing her face hard against the polished table. Vanessa’s wrists were pinned beneath Evelyn’s knee, rendering her completely immobile.
It looked less like a catfight and more like a seasoned detective subduing a criminal.
Lucian had expected to find Evelyn at a disadvantage. Instead, he found himself fighting back a smirk. Rather than intervening, he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, thoroughly entertained.
“I’ll ruin you!” Vanessa spat, her voice muffled against the table. “You’ll never work in Valmont again!”
Evelyn didn’t even blink. “Better hurry. Once the handprint fades, you’ll have no evidence.”
Her tone was ice-cold. If Vanessa hadn’t lunged at her first, Evelyn wouldn’t have bothered touching her.
Vanessa’s eyes darted to Lucian, desperation flashing across her face. “L-Lucian! Help me!”
“Alright, that’s enough.” Lucian stepped forward, gently prying Evelyn’s fingers from Vanessa’s hair. His voice held no reproach—if anything, it sounded almost indulgent.
Scenes like this were nothing new to him. He’d once had four women brawling over him in the middle of Fifth Avenue.
But Evelyn was different. She was Sebastian Blackwood’s ex-wife. A scandal involving her wouldn’t reflect well on his best friend.
“Lucian!” Vanessa shrieked, her perfectly contoured face now streaked with mascara. “This bitch slapped me! Dragged me by my hair! Look at what she’s done! You have to do something!”
Evelyn simply crossed her legs, watching the disheveled woman with detached amusement.
Lucian’s gaze trailed down her toned calves, lingering on the delicate arch of her foot in those lethal stilettos.
Damn. She’s breathtaking.
“You must have provoked Ms. Sinclair,” he said smoothly, not taking his eyes off Evelyn. “Apologize.”
“Apologize? To her?” Vanessa’s face twisted in outrage.
“Yes. Because you’re obsessed with me, and she isn’t. So she had no reason to start this.”
Evelyn arched a brow. He’s sharp. Sharper than Sebastian.
“Lucian!” Vanessa sobbed, lunging for him. “I’m your girlfriend!”
He sidestepped with a look of disgust, sending her stumbling.
“Girlfriend?” His voice turned glacial. “Who decided that?”
Vanessa flinched under his glare.
“Apologize to Ms. Sinclair. Then get out. If I see you again, it’ll be the last time.”
Vanessa’s face paled. For a heartbeat, it looked like she might argue. Then, with a choked “I’m sorry,” she fled, heels clacking furiously against the marble floor.
Lucian turned back to Evelyn, his charming smile reappearing. “My apologies for the disturbance, Ms. Sinclair.”
“You made her apologize. Consider it settled.” Evelyn checked her watch—a rare Richard Mille—and stood. “I have work. Goodbye, Mr. Ashford.”
Lucian’s eyes snagged on the timepiece. That’s a quarter-million-dollar watch. Nathan Whitmore must really dote on his sister.
The idea of wearing such luxury to a mundane job amused him.
“What time do you finish tonight?” he called as she walked away. “I’ll pick you up.”
Evelyn didn’t look back. “Don’t bother.”
The door swung shut behind her, leaving Lucian grinning.
Oh, this is going to be fun.
