Chapter 585

Rosalind stared at the arrogant young man, attempting to free her slender wrist from his grasp. "I'm merely a server here to deliver drinks. I don't socialize with patrons. Release me this instant!"

His grip only tightened, amusement flickering in his eyes as she struggled. "Surely you're here for the tips? One glass with me, and I'll make it worth your while."

She shook her head vehemently. "Keep your money!"

With a sharp snap of his fingers, Julian Ashford's assistant strode in, bearing a sleek black case. The lid flipped open, revealing crisp hundred-dollar bills stacked neatly inside. The assistant peeled off a thick wad and dangled it before her.

"One thousand. For one sip."

Rosalind's jaw clenched. "I said no."

Julian's smirk widened. "Five thousand, then. Just one glass—that's all I ask."

"Not interested!" Her voice rang clear as crystal.

The surrounding crowd erupted in laughter. "Julian never begs twice! You should feel honored," someone jeered.

"Seems our Julian's finally met his match," another voice chimed in.

From the plush velvet sofa, Genevieve Blackwood observed the scene before nudging Everett Sinclair beside her. "Looks like Julian's found tonight's entertainment."

Everett swirled his cabernet lazily, his icy gaze fixed on Julian and Rosalind. The ruby liquid sloshed against the glass, mirroring the tension coiling in the air.

"You're unusually quiet," Genevieve murmured, studying his stony profile.

Everett was a fortress—unyielding, inscrutable. Even after months of dating, Genevieve often felt like she was deciphering hieroglyphs. But now, his stillness carried a razor's edge, the temperature around him plummeting.

Her attention snapped back to Rosalind. Who was this girl?

Julian chuckled, snapping the case shut. "Fine. Take the whole box. Now drink."

Before Rosalind could react, he yanked her down onto his lap. She stiffened, every muscle locking in revulsion.

"Get off me!" She shoved against his chest.

Julian ignored her, fingers brushing the edge of her lace mask. "Why hide this pretty face? Let's see what you're—"

Rosalind caught his wrist mid-air. "Don't."

His brows arched. "Why not?"

"Because," she hissed, "only my partner gets that privilege. And he won't appreciate you trying."

"Partner?" Julian recoiled slightly. "You're taken?"

The room erupted in fresh taunts.

"Julian Ashford, rejected? That's a first!"

"Bet the boyfriend's some broke college kid. She'll regret turning you down!"

Everett's glass hit the table with a sharp clink. Every head turned as he rose, his voice slicing through the noise like winter wind.

"Enough."

A beat of silence. Then—

"Everett?" Genevieve blinked. "What are you—"

But he was already striding forward, his shadow falling over Julian and Rosalind.

Rosalind's breath hitched. Those glacial eyes—she'd know them anywhere.

Everett Sinclair.

Here.

Now.

And the look he was giving Julian could've frozen hell over.