Chapter 369
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Chapter 369:
The moment they stepped into the grand ballroom, the ambient noise dropped by half. Every eye in the room shifted toward the apex predator of Wall Street and the woman who had somehow managed to put a leash on him.
Standing near a champagne tower, Victoria Stein felt her breath catch in her throat. She smoothed her hands down her burgundy velvet dress, her eyes fixed on the sharp, devastatingly handsome line of Gaston’s jaw. Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs. He was a god among men, and she wanted him with a sickening desperation.
Gaston guided Jocelyn through the crowd. Billionaires and politicians parted like the Red Sea to let them pass. Whenever a male executive let his eyes linger on Jocelyn’s exposed back for more than a second, Gaston would turn on him a look so violently cold that the man would physically step backward, apologizing with his eyes.
After an hour of intense networking, the heavy air of the ballroom began to suffocate her.
𝘋𝘰𝘸𝗇𝘭о𝖺𝗱a𝗯𝗅𝗲 PD𝖥𝘴 о𝘯
Gaston noticed her slight frown immediately. He kissed her temple. “Go to the terrace. I will deal with these bankers and be right there p>
Jocelyn nodded, took a glass of sparkling water, and slipped through the heavy glass doors onto the outdoor terrace.
The cold night air hit her face and instantly cleared her lungs.
Standing in the shadows, smoking a cigarette, was a man in a poorly fitted, clearly rented black tuxedo. He had already torn off his bowtie and unbuttoned the top three buttons of his stiff collar, looking completely out of place and suffocated among the polished elite.
It was Lance — Gaston’s Harvard classmate and underground tattoo artist. He stood beside a portly older man in a garish plaid jacket, a well-known eccentric art history professor from Columbia infamous for dragging his protégés to events they had no business attending. The professor was pontificating loudly to a group of bored-looking alumni.
Lance turned his head. His eyes widened in panic the moment he recognized Jocelyn. He remembered almost spilling Gaston’s secret at the wedding. He muttered a quick apology to his patron, dropped his cigarette, and turned to bolt for the side door.
Jocelyn moved faster. She stepped directly into his path, her high heels clicking sharply against the stone.
“Don’t run, Lance,” Jocelyn said. Her voice was calm, but it carried the absolute authority of a CEO. “I already know what J.W. stands for p>
Lance froze. He let out a long, defeated groan and rubbed his face with both hands.
“He is going to murder me,” Lance muttered.
“He won’t touch you,” Jocelyn promised, stepping closer. “Tell me about that night. Three years ago p>
Lance looked at her determined eyes. He sighed heavily and leaned back against the stone railing.
“It was three in the morning,” he began, his voice dropping into a serious, haunted tone. “A massive thunderstorm. Gaston kicked my studio door open. He was soaking wet. But it wasn’t the rain that scared me. It was his eyes p>
Jocelyn’s stomach tightened. Her fingers gripped the stem of her water glass.