Chapter 490
The sight of such a typically composed woman surrendering so completely in that moment could only signify one undeniable truth. She was deeply in love.
Julian Montclair's chest constricted violently, his body recoiling instinctively as he retreated into the shadows.
His fingers found the edge of the marble counter, gripping the crystal diffuser with white-knuckled intensity. The pressure built as suppressed emotions erupted to the surface.
The diffuser exploded in his grasp, razor-sharp fragments embedding in his palm. Blood dripped steadily onto the pristine white porcelain, each crimson drop a stark contrast against the sterile background.
Yet Julian remained motionless. A bitter smile twisted his lips as he embraced the physical pain, using it to anchor his spiraling thoughts.
Time lost meaning until he witnessed Adrian Blackwood carrying Vivian Hartley into the elevator. Only then did Julian finally turn away.
Instead of returning to his empty penthouse, he found himself at the Mirage Lounge. As a regular patron, he typically visited for business meetings, never for personal indulgence. Tonight, however, the thought of solitude was unbearable.
Noticing Julian's distressed state, the club manager discreetly summoned an escort. The woman who entered wore a silver-gray dress that accentuated her statuesque figure, exuding an air of refined elegance. Her striking features held a quiet dignity, her intelligent eyes adding depth to her sophisticated beauty. She seemed the ideal companion for someone of Julian's caliber.
"Seraphina, ensure Mr. Montclair is well attended," the manager murmured before discreetly exiting.
When Seraphina's gaze fell upon Julian's striking profile, her breath caught. He reclined on the leather sofa, eyes closed, his aristocratic features relaxed yet radiating quiet intensity. There was an old-world charm about him, like a romantic hero stepped out of a classic novel.
In her line of work, clients were rarely of her choosing - mostly middle-aged businessmen with inflated egos. But Julian was different. His arresting looks and magnetic presence made her wonder if she'd pay for his company under different circumstances.
She settled beside him, uncorking a bottle of vintage Bordeaux. "Mr. Montclair," she ventured softly, "what troubles you tonight?"
Julian kept his eyes shut, willing his mind to quiet. But the image of Vivian locked in Adrian's embrace burned behind his eyelids. As he concentrated, the vision shifted - Adrian's face dissolving into his own.
Noticing his continued silence, Seraphina cautiously rested her hand on his thigh. "Perhaps I could help distract you?" she suggested, her fingers tracing light circles.
Julian's eyes snapped open, the earlier tranquility replaced by glacial intensity. The transformation was startling - the polished gentleman replaced by something far more dangerous.
Without warning, he seized her wrist with bruising force, his stormy gaze boring into hers with barely contained fury.
Though Seraphina bore no resemblance to Vivian, something in her calculated allure - that practiced coldness turned seductive - ignited Julian's simmering resentment. Where Vivian used her reserve as armor, this woman wielded hers as a weapon.