Chapter 116: A Poor Performance
Evelyn leaned against the door, her chest heaving. She looked at the man still tracing her lips with his thumb, then at the closed door.
What exactly was Ayla’s relationship with him? She called him Ryan, speaking with a familiarity that suggested no secrets between them. She casually interrupted their private moment and even handled a tricky situation for him. Ryan had a notorious reputation: a playboy with countless lovers. Was Ayla Vance one of them?
The heat from the kiss quickly cooled, replaced by a sharp pang in her heart. What was this? What was she to him? Just another new addition to his long list of conquests?
Ryan seemed to sense her distraction, lowering his head to kiss her again, but Evelyn turned away.
“Move.” Evelyn pushed him. “I need to change. Mr. Lawrence, don’t forget our deal. I sell designs, not my body.”
Ryan looked at the thorns that had instantly shot up around her, but he didn't get angry; instead, he let out a low chuckle. He stepped back, giving her space, his gaze deep. “Alright. I’ll wait to see you shine on stage, Evelyn.”
Evelyn quickly changed into her backup dress, fixed her hair and makeup, took a deep breath, and walked out.
Back in the main seating area, the spotlights were still flashing, and the competition was proceeding smoothly. As soon as she sat down, Damian leaned in, resting his arm naturally on the back of her chair—a fiercely possessive gesture.
“Where were you? You took forever.” Evelyn hadn’t answered yet when Damian sniffed the air, his brow instantly furrowing. He leaned closer to her neck, taking a deep inhale. The strange, aggressive scent of male cedar cologne made his eyes instantly darken.
“Why do you smell like another man’s cologne?” He questioned in a low voice, his tone accusatory. Without waiting for her reply, he grabbed her wrist, his grip dangerously tight. “Who were you with backstage?”
Evelyn’s heart skipped a beat. It was Ryan's scent. In the fitting room, the man had pressed her against the door; the scent was a brand, deeply imprinted on her dress and skin.
“The backstage area is a chaotic mess.” Evelyn pulled her hand free from Damian’s grip and calmly smoothed her skirt. “I passed the male models’ changing room, and some clumsy guy knocked over a cologne bottle on the vanity. It splashed everywhere. If you don’t believe me, go check the disaster yourself.” Her tone was too level, and her eyes didn't waver.
Damian stared at her for a few seconds. Usually, he would investigate thoroughly, even check the security footage. But seeing Evelyn's tired, straightforward demeanor, and considering the public setting surrounded by cameras and celebrities, he had to suppress his suspicion.
“Stay away from those male models next time. I don’t want my wife smelling like another man.” Damian frowned in disgust, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping the hand that had touched Evelyn. “It smells awful.”
Evelyn watched his action, a wave of nausea rolling in her stomach. Awful? What right did he have to say anything when he came home every night reeking of Sienna’s cheap perfume?
Just then, Damian’s phone, tucked in his inner jacket pocket, vibrated wildly. He took it out, annoyed, but his impatience turned to tension when he saw the name on the screen. The moment he answered, Sienna’s crying shriek practically burst through the receiver.
“Damian! Help… please, help me!”
Damian shot up, his chair scraping against the floor with a harsh sound that drew glances from those nearby. “Sienna? Where are you? What happened?” He didn't bother to lower his voice, his tone frantic.
“I’m… I’m in the bathroom on the second floor…” Sienna’s voice was broken, filled with terror and helplessness. “There’s a creep… a man keeps following me… he’s trying to get in… Damian, I’m so scared…”
“Damn it!” Damian cursed, his face instantly turning pale. He didn't spare Evelyn a glance or an explanation. He pressed the phone to his ear and rushed toward the exit, desperately reassuring the person on the other end. “Don’t worry, lock the door, I’ll be right there! I’d like to see who dares touch you!”
The man who, moments ago, had been suspicious of his wife over a hint of cologne and worried about maintaining appearances for the media, now completely abandoned any pretense of high-society decorum for his mistress.
Evelyn sat motionless, watching Damian's frantic retreat, feeling the air around her grow thin and cold. Sienna was lying. Just minutes ago, the woman was outside the fitting room, trying to catch Evelyn cheating, only to be harshly dealt with by Ayla Vance. She hadn’t encountered a pervert; she was just seeking validation and security from Damian after her shock and humiliation, while also covering up the real reason she was backstage.
What a poor performance. Yet, Damian fell for it every time, leaping into the trap she set without hesitation. Evelyn took a deep breath, trying to expel the tightness in her chest. She unconsciously looked up, her gaze cutting through the crowd to the VIP seating area.
Ryan Lawrence sat in the main seat. He wasn't watching the stage or the models; his deep eyes were fixed on her, quietly watching across the bobbing heads. Ryan was toying with a steel pen, a look of undisguised pity and concern in his eyes, but no smile. This was more humiliating to Evelyn than Damian’s contempt.
Ten minutes later, a commotion started at the entrance. Damian returned. He had taken off his suit jacket and wrapped it tightly around a woman. Sienna was huddled against him, her hair messy, tear tracks on her face, looking like a trembling, frightened fawn. Damian held her shoulder with one arm and waved away the reporters with the other, acting as if the woman in his arms was a priceless treasure.
They walked back to their seats. Damian’s seat was on Evelyn’s left. But instead of sitting down, he instructed Sienna to take his spot, right next to Evelyn.