The three of them were strikingly attractive, each standing tall, their presence commanding enough to turn heads anywhere they went. Luckily, the exclusivity of the members-only restaurant provided a semblance of privacy from unwanted attention.
Side by side with Zander, Kristian left the subtle art of introductions to Felipe, who was particularly skilled in such social niceties.
Felipe approached the door with a confident stride and knocked expertly, waiting for the soft sound of approval from within before entering.
His keen gaze quickly swept across the room, pausing briefly on Freya before warmly settling on Trent with a broad smile. “Mr. Seymour, what an unexpected pleasure to encounter you here in Jeucwell!” he exclaimed with genuine enthusiasm.
“You flatter me, Mr. Yates,” Trent responded, his tone laced with courtesy as he dabbed at his lips with a napkin.
“And this must be…” Felipe’s voice trailed off enticingly as his eyes shifted back to Freya, leaving his sentence hanging in the air.
Yet, Freya chose to remain enveloped in silence.
Over their two-year marriage, Kristian had never officially introduced Freya to his circle, though she had briefly met them at various social events.
It was hard for her to believe that Felipe was truly unaware of her identity.
“Just a friend,” Trent replied with a shrug.
“Mr. Seymour, would you mind if we join you?” Felipe inquired boldly, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. “It would be wonderful to become acquainted.”
“Today isn’t a good day,” Trent replied with a courteous smile, maintaining his poised composure. “Perhaps on another occasion, we can share a delightful meal together.”
His refusal was so final that Felipe, unable to press further, shot an inquisitive look towards Freya.
Trent, known for his strategic maneuvers, wouldn’t reject an offer so outright unless his relationship with Freya actually meant something to him.
Felipe, not one to give up and still smarting from an earlier slight by Kristian, made another offer, his tone laced with a hint of mischief. “How about this,” he offered, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, “we have the private room next door. After you finish here, perhaps we could all meet for a chat?”
This time, Trent hesitated. Instead of a direct refusal, he turned to Freya, seeking her input with a silent, questioning gaze.
Trent wanted to agree – but the words stuck in his throat.
Freya didn’t want him tangled in her divorce, yet as her friend, he couldn’t stand by while she faced unfair treatment.
Besides, her father had entrusted him with a task: ensure Kristian knew Freya wasn’t standing alone.
For the first time, Freya misread Trent’s gaze, suspecting some unspoken alliance with Felipe. “I’m okay with that.”
“Alright,” Trent agreed, letting the moment pass without explanation. Felipe’s eyes sparkled with amusement. After a few exchanged words, he strode away.
The door clicked shut. Freya turned to Trent, her voice steady. “Just act like you normally would. Don’t adjust for me.”
“Okay.” Trent left it at that. When he faced Kristian later, polite restraint wouldn’t be necessary.
Felipe returned in high spirits. Leaning against the private room doorway, he smirked at Kristian. “They refused to share a table – didn’t want us ruining their cozy lunch.”
Kristian’s gaze darkened. His hand froze mid-reach in his pocket.
“But they agreed to meet later,” Felipe added. “You should’ve seen Trent – obedient as a devoted boyfriend. Anyone would assume they’re together.”
“Get your eyes checked.” Kristian’s retort was ice. “While you’re at it, hire a tutor for that pathetic vocabulary of yours.”
Felipe blinked, lost. He elbowed Zander. “What does he mean by that?”
“He just hates your commentary,” Zander replied, his smile gentle, almost apologetic.
Felipe gritted his teeth. Kristian always knew where to jab. This wasn’t over.
Thirty minutes later.
Felipe sent Kristian and Zander ahead to the upstairs club, playing escort for Freya and Trent himself. The club – a dimly lit haven of drinks and murmured conversations – was the restaurant’s post-dinner indulgence.
And the restaurant? Wholly Felipe’s.
“Meet my friends: Kristian Shaw and Zander Loftus.” Felipe’s grin widened as Kristian’s stare locked onto Freya. “This is Trent Seymour from Alerith… and his friend.”
Pleasantries were exchanged – brittle and brief. Kristian’s and Freya’s eyes met – a clash of silent fury.
“Kristian,” Felipe teased, “you’re a married man. Staring at Mr. Seymour’s ‘friend’ like that? Improper.”
“The ‘friend’ you mention is my wife.” Kristian’s tone was razor-sharp.
.
.
.
“I wonder if Mr. Seymour is aware.”
The air turned to glass – fragile, ready to shatter.
If Freya and Trent were more than friends, this was the moment the truth would out.
“I knew my sweet friend was married.” Trent settled onto the sofa, adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses with deliberate calm. “But to you? That’s… unexpected.”
Freya shot him a glance. His sugary tone sent a shudder down her spine. What game was he playing?
Trent’s eyes flicked toward her, as if saying, “I’ve got your back.” She barely stifled a sigh.
Kristian caught it too – that familiarity, that audacity.
He’d never realized Trent and Freya were this close.
Felipe suddenly stood, offering his seat with exaggerated courtesy. “My mistake for not recognizing you earlier. This is your rightful place – please, sit.”
“No need.”
“No need.”
Kristian and Freya spoke in unison, their voices twin blades of frost.
“What’s going on with you two?” Felipe pressed, theatrically wide-eyed. “Did you have a fight?”
Kristian’s glare could’ve melted steel.
Felipe pretended not to notice.
“You talk with them.” Freya had no interest in sparring with Kristian further. She turned to Trent. “I’m going to the restroom.”
“Alright,” Trent agreed, his tone dripping with gentleness.
The scene burned Kristian’s retinas. Their effortless intimacy made him feel like the intruder.
“How did you and Kristian’s wife meet, Mr. Seymour?” Felipe asked, swirling his drink.
Trent hesitated.
He wanted to say childhood friends, family ties – but Freya’s warning echoed in his mind. He couldn’t reveal her identity.
His pause stretched a second too long.
Kristian misinterpreted it instantly. Whatever their first meeting was, it must’ve been… compromising. The room’s temperature plummeted.
“If it’s sensitive, forget I asked.” Felipe laughed, pouring drinks as they arrived. “Let’s toast! Gatherings like this are rare.”
The conversation limped forward until Freya returned. Every eye tracked her.
She’d done what she came for. “I’m leaving,” she announced. “Stay if you want.”
“Don’t rush.” Felipe blocked her path. “Leave with Kristian later.”
“No.” Freya’s refusal was absolute.
“Stay a while longer,” Trent added.
Freya was silent but didn’t walk out.
Kristian’s grip on his glass turned lethal. His knuckles bleached white; his ribs cramped around the fury in his chest.
“Freya mentioned you’re divorcing.” Trent’s question was a scalpel to Kristian’s nerves. “Is it true?”
“Eager to take my place?” Kristian snarled, the words raw and unplanned. Regret lashed him the moment they escaped.
Everyone froze.
Even Felipe stiffened. No one expected such venom. If he truly wanted the divorce, why the rage?
“Kristian. Freya had meant to stay silent, but his words were a bridge too far. Do you ever use that brain for anything beyond decoration?”
Kristian’s hand froze mid-air. Temper flaring, he shot back, “Then stop giving me reasons to say these things.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.