Chapter 227

Nathaniel's gaze slid sideways to Daphne.

Her fingers rested lightly against his, tracing the sharp contours of his wrist. The cold platinum of his Patek Philippe watch brushed her skin - as intimidating and unattainable as the man himself.

Daphne's cheeks flushed crimson. "Mr. Falcon...that night was my first time. I gave myself to you willingly. Do you remember?"

Sebastian frowned, opening his mouth to intervene. "Nathaniel-"

One of the socialites grabbed his arm. "If Mr. Falcon favors her, you'd better show respect," he hissed.

Sebastian clenched his jaw. His loyalty remained with Isabella.

Nathaniel studied Daphne's demure expression, the way her lashes fluttered shyly. Truthfully, he hadn't dwelled on that night.

Because all his memories were tangled with Harrison.

The intoxicating fantasy had been with Harrison - her scent, her warmth, the way she yielded beneath him.

Yet that pleasure hadn't come from Harrison at all. It came from Daphne.

"Mr. Falcon," Daphne murmured, fingers tracing circles on his thigh. "I don't need anything from you. Just let me stay by your side tonight..."

Her innocent blush contradicted her bold proposition.

Nathaniel remained silent, his expression unreadable.

When Harrison arrived, the scene struck her like a physical blow - Daphne whispering seductively while Nathaniel appeared dangerously close to acquiescing.

He'd actually brought Daphne here.

Harrison's lips curled. His taste never changed - from Isabella to Daphne, always the clinging, simpering types.

While she? Too dull. Too ordinary.

The manager approached with a polished smile. "How many in your party, miss?"

Harrison met his gaze squarely. "I don't drink."

"No drinks? Then why come to The Velvet Lounge?"

"I want to dance."

"Ballroom? Salsa?"

Harrison's voice dropped. "Pole."

In the VIP section, Daphne waited breathlessly for Nathaniel's response. His lips curved in that infuriating half-smile. "Addicted to selling yourself? Looking for another deal?"

The words doused Daphne like ice water.

Nathaniel didn't glance her way again, simply reaching for another bottle of Dom Pérignon.

The manager's voice boomed through the club. "Ladies and gentlemen! A special treat tonight - our very own seductress will grace the stage!"

Nathaniel paid no attention until the socialites started whooping.

"Damn! Look at that body!"

"Mr. Falcon, you've got to see this!"

Nathaniel's gaze drifted lazily toward the stage - and froze.

There she stood.

A black bandage dress clung to every curve, the thin straps emphasizing delicate shoulders. Black fishnets sheathed endless legs, the outfit a far cry from her usual modest attire.

A lace veil obscured her face, but those eyes - dark, knowing, dangerous - burned through the fabric.

Harrison's eyes.