Champagne sweetness hung heavy in the air, diffusing through the plush private lounge like mist.
Henson Sheffield sprawled comfortably on the velvet sofa, a model draped over each arm. He cocked an eyebrow at Thorpe Yates, smirk tugging at his lips.
“Are you kidding me? Since when would Justin show up at a place like this?”
Thorpe shrugged, just as clueless.
“All I know is he messaged me. Said he was heading to the hospital–no idea if he’s sick or if something’s wrong with Edith. Then I told him I was at Nightingale, and he said he’d drop by.”
Henson was just gearing up to tease Thorpe–maybe playing doctor so much had finally scrambled his brain–when the door swung open.
The owner of Nightingale himself led Justin in.
Justin swept a cold gaze across the crowded lounge before settling down beside Connor Grant.
Connor’s face registered pure shock.
He’d spent years avoiding Justin, and lately, it seemed like Justin was doing the same to him. The memory of Justin threatening to pull out of their investment partnership was still fresh; Connor had barely managed to smooth things over. The last thing he needed now was another run–in.
Justin seemed to notice Connor’s discomfort and spoke in his usual calm, detached tone.
“Relax. Their side’s packed with girls.”
Connor glanced over, confirming it–Henson and Thorpe were surrounded, while his end of the booth looked practically deserted.
Connor pursed his lips, staying silent. Years of law practice had honed his instincts; tonight, Justin was not someone to cross. He always had that icy demeanor, but tonight, there was something else–an unmistakable irritation simmering behind his eyes.
Sensing the tension, Thorpe extricated himself from the tangle of women and went to join Justin.
A server made the rounds with a decanter, and the rich aroma of Burgundy wine mingled with the haze.
Thorpe poured Justin a glass and handed it over.
“So, who in the Hawksley family is sick? Seems a bit dramatic to call me out in private like this.”
Justin shot a glance at Connor.
Connor immediately took the hint and fled to Henson’s side.
Henson couldn’t resist ribbing him.
“Didn’t you used to love butting heads with Justin? What’s got you acting so careful lately?”
Connor took a sip of wine and scoffed.
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20:41
Chapter 218
“That guy doesn’t play around. Threatened to pull his funding–I’m not about to test him again.”
Henson shrugged.
“You’re overthinking it. Justin’s one of those people–give him an inch, he’ll ease up. Stop pushing, and you’ll both be fine.”
Connor kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t about to mention that, back in the day, he’d stolen Edith’s first kiss. That was the sort of thing no apology could fix with Justin.
After a brief word with Thorpe, Justin stood and made his way over to Henson.
If someone was ill, Thorpe was the go–to doctor. But when it came to matters of the heart, Justin’s only option was Henson–the man had been through more relationships than most people had hot dinners.
One look from Justin, and the women clustered around Henson scattered like startled birds, hurrying to the opposite end of the lounge.
Henson threw up his hands in mock defeat.
“Justin, you’re a regular grim reaper–every time you show up, the place clears out.”
Justin wasn’t in the mood for banter. He sat down, shooting a sidelong glance at Connor, who was still warming the seat.
Connor took the hint and hurried off to join Thorpe, muttering to himself.
“Damn, a simple drink turns into a survival game–just running from one end to the other.”
As Henson watched Justin clear the area, the humor faded from his face. Clearly, Justin wasn’t here for small talk–something serious was on his mind.
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.