Chapter 572

Rosalind desperately wanted to escape the car.

Julian's palm slammed against the roof with finality. "I'm taking you to Everett. Don't you want to see your precious boyfriend?"

Rosalind's breath hitched.

Julian yanked the passenger door shut and slid into the driver's seat. The Porsche's engine growled like a caged beast as he floored the accelerator, leaving Arabella sprawled on the pavement like discarded trash.

"Julian! Where the hell are you going?" Arabella shrieked, her manicured nails digging into the concrete. "I'm your fiancée, damn it!"

Thirty minutes later, the sleek sports car screeched to a halt outside The Diamond Crown casino. Rosalind stepped onto the curb, her stomach churning. "Why are we here?"

Julian's lips curled into a predatory smile. "Recognize this place?"

"Of course I do." Rosalind crossed her arms. "It's a den of vice. I have no business here."

Amused, Julian leaned closer. "Oh, but your knight in shining armor does."

Rosalind's heart stuttered. "That's impossible! Everett would never—"

"Face it, Rosalind," Julian interrupted, his voice dripping with mock pity. "You don't know the real Everett Sinclair." He seized her wrist. "Let me show you who he truly is."

The casino's interior assaulted her senses—thick cigar smoke, the clatter of chips, and the frenzied laughter of men whose eyes gleamed with greed.

Rosalind recoiled. "This is a mistake. I'm leaving."

Julian jerked her forward. "Look."

Her gaze followed his pointed finger.

There stood Everett, clad in head-to-toe black, emerging from a private room. A cigarette dangled carelessly from his fingers as he took a long drag. The dim light carved shadows across his sharp jawline, his cropped hair making him look dangerously untamed.

"Boss, this deadbeat still hasn't paid up," one thug announced, shoving a trembling man to his knees before Everett.

"Please," the man sobbed, pressing his forehead to the floor. "My wife's dying in the hospital. I gambled my children's tuition—I have nothing left!"

Everett exhaled a slow stream of smoke before crouching to the man's level. He blew the acrid cloud directly into his face.

"Sell your house."

The man turned ashen. "I can't! It's my parents' legacy—"

Everett stood abruptly. A blade flashed.

The scream that followed sent ice through Rosalind's veins. Blood arced through the air, splattering across Everett's cheek. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, utterly unfazed.

This wasn't the gentle man who'd brought her roses. This was a predator.

And Rosalind realized with dawning horror—she'd never known him at all.