Chapter 78: Interrupted Intimacy
Without further hesitation, Evelyn carried the silver briefcase and walked into the innermost stall of the changing room. She opened the case to find a black velvet gown. It was free of embellishment, but the cut was daring. The neckline plunged deep, the back was cut low to the waist, and the skirt had a high slit that revealed the outline of her thigh when she walked.
It was a dangerous dress. Unlike the tame gowns Damian chose, which aimed to mold her into the meek "Mrs. Green," this dress was aggressive, like a thorny rose in the dark.
Evelyn stripped off the stained champagne gown and tossed it into the trash bin. When she stood before the mirror in the black velvet, she barely recognized the woman staring back. Her pale complexion looked strikingly cold and glamorous against the black. She touched up her makeup and applied deep red lipstick.
She pushed the door open. Kevin was still waiting. Even the highly trained assistant showed a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “Madam, the car is waiting for you at the back entrance downstairs.”
Evelyn nodded. She didn't walk toward the noisy launch event. Instead, she turned and walked toward the elevator leading to the back exit.
The black sedan glided into the night, leaving the brightly lit building behind. Half an hour later, the car pulled up to a Manhattan high-rise overlooking the river. Kevin took her to the penthouse floor.
The elevator doors opened to the scent of cedar and cigar smoke. The spacious living room was dimly lit, relying only on the city lights pouring in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting sharp shadows. Ryan K. Lawrence stood in the light. He wore only a deep blue robe, loosely tied, revealing the contour of his chest and abs.
His deep-set eyes were looking out over the city. Hearing her footsteps, he slowly turned. His gaze landed on Evelyn, instantly becoming intense. “This dress suits you better than I imagined.” His voice was husky, carrying the laziness of someone who had just showered.
Evelyn stood by the entrance, gripping the hem of the dress, feeling nervous. “Thank you for helping me, Ryan.”
Ryan chuckled, took a drag from his cigar, and slowly exhaled the smoke. He walked toward her. “I'm no philanthropist, Evelyn. As I said, I'm a businessman. And a businessman doesn't do business at a loss.”
He stopped in front of her, his tall figure completely overshadowing her. He reached out, catching a strand of her hair and winding it around his finger. “Between yesterday’s rescue and taking you out of that ‘mire’ today, how do you plan to repay me?”
Evelyn’s heart skipped a beat. She forced herself to meet his eyes. “I will finish the menswear designs for the ‘Rebirth’ collection as soon as possible.”
“There’s no rush for that,” Ryan interrupted. His fingers slid from her hair, his thumb brushing her exposed collarbone, causing a shiver. “Designs can’t be rushed without inspiration. You say you want to design for me, but do you know me? If you only know my body and not my soul, how can you design clothes that truly fit me?”
His voice was hypnotic, like the serpent tempting Eve. Evelyn’s body stiffened. She tried to back away, but a hand suddenly gripped her waist.
“Don’t move.” Ryan’s other hand took her clutch bag and tossed it onto the sofa. That hand then slid down her back, stopping to rub the curve of her lower back. “Tell me, Evelyn, do you want revenge on him?” His voice was low, a whisper, yet every word struck a chord deep inside her. “The man who treated you like a fool, paraded you like property, and let you be humiliated in public.”
Evelyn’s breathing became ragged, and hatred flared in her eyes. “Yes,” she bit out.
“Then show me.” Ryan pulled her forcefully into his embrace, their bodies pressing tightly together. His thumb pressed against her lower lip, his gaze tracing the shape of her mouth. “Forget who he is. Forget who you are. Tonight, you belong to me.”
Logic screamed at her to push him away, to run. But an impulse screamed in her body. Why not? Why should she remain faithful to a marriage that had already rotted away?
Just as her control was about to shatter, BZZZ—BZZZ— a phone vibration broke the intimate moment. The sound came from the clutch bag. Evelyn snapped back to reality and pushed Ryan away. She frantically grabbed the bag. The name that suffocated her—Damian—flashed on the screen.
Ryan frowned with displeasure. Evelyn took a deep breath, fighting to control her pounding heart, and pressed the answer button.
“Where are you?” Damian’s voice came through. “The launch isn’t over. Why are you taking so long in the restroom?”
Evelyn glanced at Ryan. He was leaning against the sofa, relighting the cigar, watching her with an amused expression.
“I… I felt unwell,” Evelyn kept her voice low. “The wine spill was too much. I'm not feeling well, so I went home early.”
Silence on the other end lasted a few seconds. Then she heard Sienna's voice. “Oh, Damian, the reporters are still waiting for you. Never mind that party-pooper.”
Followed by Damian’s low-voiced reassurance to Sienna, “Fine, stop nagging.” Then, back into the phone, “If you’re sick, get some rest and don't cause me any more trouble!”
Click The call ended. Evelyn’s hand holding the phone was shaking. This was her husband. When she was humiliated and unwell, he offered no comfort, instead flirting with the woman who had shamed her, and worrying only that Evelyn wouldn't cause him more trouble.
“Heh.” A soft laugh came from beside her. Ryan extinguished the cigar, walked behind her, and leaned close to her ear. “What? Still clinging to illusions about him?” His voice was laced with mockery. “You were shaking, Evelyn. Was it fear? Or because… you still hesitated for his sake?”