Chapter 665 Julian's Revenge: He Has Never Been This Ruthless 4
Avery pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek. Perfect. He had something he wanted to ask Isadora, something that had been keeping him awake at night.
Isadora had come by to drop something off for Serafina—or rather, for Abigail. The moment she stepped out of her car, she saw him.
He stood in the courtyard dressed in a black hunting jacket, the color blending him seamlessly into the twilight.
From where she stood, she could not see his expression, only the hard lines of his face, radiating an unspoken warning to stay away.
They had not parted on good terms. For a long time afterward, when they crossed paths in business, they would not even exchange pleasantries. Avery had stopped pressing her about why they could not be together.
It had been her choice. No one else to blame.
And yet, seeing him now, confident and in his element, her eyes burned.
Was it because she had heard he was meeting someone for a potential match? She could understand it—he had inherited the Montague Group, and with it, the duty to continue the Montague family line. Just as Jacob had his own obligations.
A sharp flick of a lighter broke her thoughts, followed by the flare of a flame.
Avery lit a cigarette, the glow casting shadows across his face as he studied her for a long moment.
His voice was rough when he finally spoke, "At Samuel's wedding, I saw your car in the parking lot. There was a kid inside. Whose is it? I don't recall meeting them."
Isadora stiffened.
Did Avery know about Maggie? Did he suspect?
After a pause, she answered softly, "A friend's child. I was helping out for the day."
His gaze bore into her, searching for something. She forced herself to look calm, though her mind raced with fear—if Avery ever found out about Maggie, would he take her away?
Thankfully, he seemed unconvinced but uninterested in pressing further. Instead, he gave a cold, humorless laugh. "A friend's kid, a relative's kid... You have so much free time. Why not use it to have a child with me?"
Her heart jolted, but before she could respond, Avery had already opened the door of his black Range Rover. Without another word, he started the engine and drove away from the Windsor Mansion. He left without a backward glance—he would not allow himself to linger over a woman who had no feelings for him.
In his rearview mirror, her figure grew smaller and smaller until it was nothing but a fragile dot.
Julian and Taylor returned to the villa just as dusk settled in.
Julian was at the wheel when he spotted Cressida standing outside the gates. He had told security not to let her in, and so she remained on the other side.
Not wanting Luna to see her, he said quietly to Taylor, "It's chilly out. Hold on to Luna."
Taylor understood instantly. She glanced toward the gate and spotted Cressida waiting, stubborn as ever. Pulling her coat around Luna, she shielded the child from the sight.
As the black car approached, Cressida ran toward it.
Julian did not slow down. Cressida had the sense to step aside at the last moment, but by the time she turned to give chase, the car had already passed through the gates. The ornate black doors closed slowly before her, as if sealing her out of Julian's heart.
She forgot her dignity, forgot her status. Pressing her hands against the cold iron, she pounded on the gates and called his name in a hoarse voice.
It was useless. She had never been the one he wanted.
By nightfall, she drove away in defeat. It was New Year's Day—streets glowing with lights, couples walking hand in hand. Everyone seemed to have someone, except her. She could not be with Julian. She could not be with Luna.
She did not want to return to her hotel.
Instead, she drove to a bar, intent on drowning herself in liquor. Tonight, she did not want to think about Julian. Not the man who had been so merciless to her.
She ordered the strongest drink on the menu. One sip in, her body was warm, her mind fuzzy, but her heart only ached more. Through the haze, she thought she saw Julian. But no—it was someone else.
A man, younger than Julian, strikingly handsome.
White shirt, slim gold-rimmed glasses, an air of quiet refinement.
Cressida could not look away. She had never seen someone so similar—not just in appearance, but in presence. A wild thought took root.
Kevin was a polished figure in the business world, perfectly at ease in upscale bars. He sat across from her with a glass of whiskey, speaking knowledgeably about fine spirits.
Letting her hair fall loose, Cressida tilted her head and asked, "Do you know who I am?"
He raised his glass. "Ms. Lawson. Best-selling screenwriter."
She laughed, a soft, sultry sound that lingered in the air. When she stopped, her gaze turned teasing, her fingers brushing his firm arm—years of training evident beneath the fabric.
Her voice dropped to a purr. "So are you here for my name, or for me?"
Kevin's lips curved. "Both."
Leaning in, his breath warm against her neck, he murmured, "Do I have your attention, Ms. Lawson?"
On any other day, she might have played harder to get. But tonight, she was raw from rejection, and here was a ready distraction. Why turn it down?
She smiled wickedly. "Then let's not waste time here."
They left together for a nearby five-star hotel, where the night burned hot and fast.
Neither of them was shy, and by the end of it, they had gone through nearly an entire box of protection.
Afterward, Kevin showered. Cressida, satisfied and languid, sat against the headboard wearing his shirt, a cigarette between her fingers. The woman in the soft TV interviews was nowhere to be seen.
When Kevin emerged, towel around his waist, she exhaled smoke and said, "Let's exchange numbers. We could do this again sometime."
He dressed without hurry. "Not likely. You're in the arts. I'm in finance. Different worlds. We don't usually cross paths."
Cressida was rarely turned down. Julian had been one. Now Kevin was another.
She bristled at his dismissal, yet she could not deny the pull of what they had just shared.
Still, pride won out. She gave a cold laugh as she slid off the bed. "You're right. Different worlds."
Kevin zipped his pants. "It was fun. Goodbye."
Her eyes turned icy.
That was exactly what he wanted. Too much eagerness bred suspicion. Better to leave her wanting more, so she might come back willing to pay the price.
He left without a glance back.
In the hallway, he pulled out his phone and sent a single message: [The fish is on the hook.]