Chapter 415

Everett Sinclair stared at Rosalind Fairchild with an impassive expression. "Did you need something?"

Rosalind sauntered closer, her manicured nails grazing his waist. "So firm," she murmured.

Everett's jaw tightened. "Remove your hand."

She barely flinched at his icy tone.

"You know why I invited you here, don't you? We're adults. From tonight onward, you'll be mine. Name your price—I'll spoil you rotten. No more grinding on stage for cash."

His brow arched. "That wedding ring says otherwise. Doesn't your husband mind?"

"Relax," Rosalind purred. "He's clueless. I've done this for years without a hitch."

A cold smile played on Everett's lips as he retrieved a voice recorder from his pocket.

"Pity. I've got every word on tape."

Rosalind's smirk vanished. The device glinted mockingly between them.

Her painted lips twisted. "You're throwing away gold. I'm wealthy, gorgeous—men beg for this chance. Yet here you are, playing hard to get."

Despite her polished allure, Everett remained unmoved.

He scoffed. "If they're so eager, go bother them. Touch my family, though, and I'll ruin you."

The lethal glint in his eyes silenced her.

As he turned to leave, a sudden heat surged through his veins. His skin prickled uncomfortably.

Everett whirled back. "What did you lace this room with?"

Rosalind gestured to the smoldering incense. "Powerful, isn't it?" Her fingers trailed his shoulder. "A virile man like you... surely you crave release?"

Her breath tickled his ear. "Stop fighting it. I'll make it worth your while."

Meanwhile, Arabella had traced him to the Silver Pines Hotel. She paced the hallway, calling out, "Everett? Where are you?"

Inside, Everett shoved Rosalind away and yanked the door open.

Arabella gasped. "What are you doing here?" She rushed to his side.

Spotting Rosalind, Arabella bristled. "Who's she?"

Rosalind assessed the younger woman—her dewy complexion, the way she clung to Everett. A perfect match.

Rosalind crossed her arms. "I should be asking you that."

Arabella gripped Everett's arm possessively. "He's mine! What are you doing with my boyfriend?"

Rosalind arched a brow. "Is that so?"

Everett tugged Arabella away without a word.

Behind them, Rosalind's stiletto cracked against marble. Men always fell at her feet—except this infuriating exception.