Chapter 370
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Chapter 370:
“He looked like a man who had just watched his entire world burn to ash,” Lance whispered. “He was shaking — not from the cold, but from pure, psychotic desperation. He demanded I tattoo those letters over his heart right that second p>
Lance looked down at his hands.
“I offered him numbing cream. It’s a sensitive area. He refused,” he said. “He wanted to feel it. I drove that needle into his chest for two hours. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t blink. He just stared into the mirror at those two letters p>
Jocelyn stopped breathing. A sharp, physical ache pierced through her own chest.
“The way he looked at that tattoo…” Lance shook his head slowly. “It was like he was looking at his only god. It was the most terrifying, devoted thing I have ever seen p>
Hot tears flooded Jocelyn’s eyes and spilled over her lashes, burning her cold cheeks.
She could not fathom the agonizing weight of his silent love. While she had been trapped in Kieran’s toxic web, Gaston had been bleeding for her alone in the dark.
The heavy glass doors of the terrace swung open.
Gaston’s massive frame filled the doorway. His eyes swept the dark terrace with frantic urgency. When his gaze locked onto Jocelyn standing next to Lance, the air pressure around them seemed to drop. A dark, lethal aura exploded from his body and he took a massive stride forward.
Lance threw both hands in the air in total surrender. Without a single word, he sprinted past Gaston and vanished into the ballroom.
Gaston closed the distance to Jocelyn in seconds. He saw the wet tears shining on her cheeks, and his heart slammed violently against his ribs. Panic seized his throat. He reached out, his large hands frantically cupping her face.
𝖱𝖾а𝖽 𝗳r𝘰m y𝗈u𝘳 𝗉𝗵on𝖾 𝗼n
“What did he say to you?” Gaston demanded, his voice rough with fear. “Why are you crying p>
Jocelyn didn’t answer.
She dropped her water glass. It shattered against the stone floor.
She threw herself forward, crashing against his solid chest and wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. She buried her face into the lapel of his tuxedo and held on with a desperate, crushing force.
Gaston froze for a single heartbeat. Then his massive arms wrapped around her, lifting her completely off the ground and crushing her against his chest.
In the dark shadows near the glass doors, Victoria Stein watched the embrace. Her fingernails dug so hard into her crystal champagne flute that the glass shattered in her hand, slicing her palm open.
The armored Maybach descended into the private underground garage of the Collins penthouse.
The cabin was completely silent, filled only with the faint, intoxicating scent of expensive champagne and Gaston’s signature cedarwood cologne. His hand rested heavily on Jocelyn’s thigh, his thumb stroking the silk of her gown in a slow, rhythmic motion. Jocelyn stared out the tinted window, her mind still entirely consumed by the violent, desperate image Lance had painted of the thunderstorm three years ago.
The car stopped. Gaston escorted her into the private elevator.