Chapter 87
Chapter 87:
Jocelyn lowered the phone. She looked at Kieran. He looked defeated. Confused. The narrative he had built — the gay husband, the fake marriage — was crumbling under the weight of Gaston’s baritone.
“Excuse me,” Jocelyn said, her voice cool again. “My husband is waiting p>
Kieran stepped aside. He looked like a man who had just watched his house burn down.
Jocelyn walked past him, her legs shaking. She kept her head high until the elevator doors closed. Then she slumped against the wall, exhaling a shuddering breath.
“That was close,” she whispered.
But a small, vindictive part of her smiled. Seeing the light die in Kieran’s eyes? That was worth every second of panic.
Jocelyn exited the hotel, the cool evening air hitting her flushed cheeks. Gaston was leaning against the silver Aston Martin, looking like a spread in GQ — black turtleneck, grey blazer, arms crossed, ankles crossed.
He straightened when he saw her and opened the passenger door.
“Who was the ‘darling’ for?” he asked as she approached. His tone was light, but his eyes were scanning her face, looking for cracks.
“Kieran,” Jocelyn admitted, sliding into the leather seat. “He was… annoying. He cornered me in the lounge p>
𝖴p𝘥𝘢𝘁е𝘀 𝘦𝘷𝘦r𝘺 𝘄𝖾𝗲𝘬 𝗼n
Gaston’s smile vanished instantly. His jaw tightened. “Did he touch you p>
“Just my arm. In the lobby. I handled it,” she assured him quickly, seeing the storm clouds gathering in his eyes.
Gaston looked up at the hotel entrance, his eyes narrowing. He marked Kieran Douglas for later. It wasn’t a question of if, but when.
He got into the driver’s seat and started the engine. The car purred to life.
“We have a detour tonight,” he announced, pulling into traffic.
“Not the cruise?” she joked nervously.
“No. Dinner at the Collins Estate,” he said. “My father wants to meet you properly. Away from the lawyers and the contracts p>
Jocelyn panicked. Her hands flew to her hair. “Gaston! I’m not dressed! I’m in work clothes! I need to prep! I need talking points p>
“You look perfect,” he said, glancing at her. His gaze lingered on the watch at her wrist. “And my father isn’t Elouise. Relax. He just wants to see the woman who finally got me to settle down p>
They drove out of the city, heading east toward Long Island. But instead of the familiar turnoff toward the Schneider estate, they continued deep into Old Westbury, into the heart of the Gold Coast.
The gates to the Collins Estate were massive iron structures, covered in ivy that looked centuries old. They swung open automatically as the car approached. The driveway was a mile long, winding through manicured forests.
The house came into view. It was a Gatsby-style mansion — a sprawling beast of limestone and slate, with warm golden light glowing in every window. It didn’t look like a fortress. It looked like a home. A very, very expensive home.
Jocelyn felt small. “This is… big p>
“It’s just a pile of bricks,” Gaston shrugged. “Don’t let it intimidate you. The plumbing is terrible p>
They parked in the circular drive. Before they could even knock, the massive front door swung open.