Chapter 35
She probably thought all men in the world would fall for her tricks.
However, Benjamin didn't even spare her an extra glance.
He walked over to me, picked up the coat draped over my chair, and handed it to me naturally, as if nothing had just happened.
"Let's go. Didn't you say we need to discuss the contract details?" His voice was low, reaching only my ears clearly.
Amelia's carefully prepared flirtatious looks were completely wasted on thin air.
The smile on her face froze, her hands awkwardly clutching the hem of her clothes. In front of everyone, she looked like a clown.
I nodded and stood up, following Benjamin out of the White Mansion's doors under the poisonous glares of Marlowe and Amelia.
Once we got in the car, I casually said, "Thanks, Mr. Wilson, for getting me out of another tight spot."
"Your family members are all terrible people," he started the car, his tone unreadable. "Especially that sister of yours."
I understood completely. It seemed he had seen right through Amelia's poorly disguised intentions.
I brushed it off lightly, "Nothing to worry about."
Benjamin glanced at me, his deep eyes unreadable in the darkness. "Better be that way. I don't want my business partner getting tangled up in these boring family matters."
I understood what he meant. It was both a warning and a reminder.
I looked at the street scenes flying backward outside the window, my lips slowly curving up.
If Amelia wanted to snatch things from me, she'd better see if she had what it takes.
In the past, she was able to take Michael from me only because I didn't care enough to fight over a waste of space.
But Benjamin...
I turned to look at the man beside me, focused on driving. His perfect profile, under the flickering streetlights, looked cold and captivating.
He wasn't Michael. He was a real predator. And for someone at Amelia's level to try to get her hands on him would be like playing with fire.
A new game seemed to be starting.
The car interior was quiet, with only the steady hum of the engine. Outside the window, neon lights streamed past, casting flickering shadows on his cold, hard profile.
I'm breaking the silence first. "My sister wears her thoughts on her face. Sorry you had to see that."
Benjamin kept his eyes on the road, his tone as flat as if stating a fact that had nothing to do with him. "A clown jumping around. Nothing to worry about."
I understood. In his eyes, Amelia's crude attempts at seduction probably didn't even count as a speck of dust.
"However," he changed his tone, his voice dropping a bit, "your stepmother is much harder to deal with than her."
My heart stirred, but I didn't respond, waiting for him to continue.
"At dinner just now, every sentence seemed to be for your benefit, but every word was trying to pin you on the pillar of shame as cold and heartless." Benjamin's tone was flat, yet he dissected Marlowe's intentions clearly. "This kind of person likes to stab people in the back. I had someone look into it. Before and after Michael's incident, there were some unusual fund transfers in her accounts. Though well hidden, they're not untraceable."
My heart clenched, and my fingers gripping the seatbelt unconsciously tightened.
From just one dinner confrontation, Benjamin had sensed danger and already taken action.
He could always easily see through my layers of disguise to those deliberately buried scars and hatred.
Seeing my silence, Benjamin seemed to think I was scared. He glanced at me and added coldly, "Don't worry, she can't touch you."
His promise was light, yet carried a convincing power.
I suppressed the surging emotions in my heart and switched to a businesslike tone. "Thanks for the reminder, Mr. Wilson. I'll be careful."
He acknowledged with a sound, seemingly unwilling to discuss the topic further.
The atmosphere in the car returned to silence.
I thought the topic was over, but he suddenly spoke again, his tone casual as if discussing the weather.
"Speaking of the Johnson family, there's another interesting thing."
My nerves instantly tensed.
"Michael's adopted sister, Freya, right?" he asked casually.
"Yes." An ominous feeling rose in my heart.
Benjamin smoothly turned the steering wheel, merging the car into another main road. "This weekend, she's getting engaged to the youngest son of Vanguard Innovations Group at the Emerald Oasis Hotel."
Hearing this, I raised an eyebrow. Wasn't she married to Michael?
So Freya divorced for Michael's sake and remarried?
If that's the case, then I'll take this opportunity to get back everything that belongs to me.
The coldness emanating from me was too obvious, and even the temperature inside the car seemed to drop a few degrees.
I was racking my brain trying to figure out how to get an invitation to the engagement party when Benjamin, beside me, broke the silence again.
He simply stopped the car at the next red light, pulled out an elaborately made gold-embossed invitation from inside his suit jacket, and casually placed it on the center console.
"For you," he said.
I looked down. On that gorgeous invitation, Freya's name and another unfamiliar man's name were glaringly printed.
I jerked my head up, looking at him in shock, momentarily speechless. "You... how did you..."
Benjamin had already turned his head back, his gaze fixed on the traffic ahead. The light turned green, and he smoothly pressed the accelerator.
"I knew you'd want to go." His voice rang out in the quiet car, low and clear. "Rather than have you go through the trouble of finding someone to get you an invitation, I might as well give you one directly."
I held the invitation that still carried his body heat, my fingertips feeling a bit hot. That feeling of being completely seen through swept over me again.
This feeling was dangerous, like exposing my vulnerabilities and ambitions completely to another person.
But it was precisely him who gave me the qualification to enter the game and the confidence to flip the table.
I looked at his profile as he focused on driving, that perfect jawline taut, radiating an unapproachable coldness.
I suddenly felt that Benjamin might not be poisoned. He was more like a sharpened blade.
He had placed himself in my hands. Whether it would hurt others or himself depended entirely on how I, the one wielding the blade, chose to use it.
I withdrew my gaze, carefully placed the invitation in my handbag, and my voice returned to its usual calm. "Thanks."
"Happy cooperation," he replied flatly.