Chapter 830

Rosalind didn't want her mother to worry, so she painted on a bright smile. "Alright, Mother."

"That's my girl. Let's get some lunch."

Just as they turned, a familiar voice called out. "Rosalind?"

She looked up to see Julian Ashford, heir to the Ashford fortune and a childhood friend.

Julian was the epitome of aristocratic refinement. He bowed slightly. "Lady Whitmore, Rosalind. What a pleasant surprise! Here for lunch?"

Victoria nodded gracefully. "Indeed. Are you dining with your family?"

Julian gestured ahead. "Just my mother—she's waiting by the fountain."

Victoria turned to Rosalind. "Why don't you catch up with Julian? I'll go greet Lady Ashford."

Rosalind acquiesced. "Of course."

Once alone, Julian studied Rosalind with concern. "You've grown thinner. Has something been troubling you?"

She shook her head. "Nonsense. If anything, I've put on weight."

Julian's lips curved into a knowing smile. "True beauty needs no adornment to captivate."

This drew a genuine laugh from Rosalind. Among their social circle, Julian stood apart—the youngest tenured professor at an Ivy League institution, his words always laced with poetic elegance.

"Flatterer," she teased.

Her gaze then caught on a nearby display. Among the leather-bound volumes sat Julian's latest publication.

"Is this your new work?"

He nodded modestly. "Just an academic treatise on ancient civilizations. Probably too dry for your tastes."

"I'll be the judge of that," Rosalind countered.

She stretched for the book.

The shelf proved just beyond her reach, even on tiptoe.

Julian effortlessly retrieved it. "Allow me."

Rosalind accepted it with a smile. "Thank you."

Suddenly, the hairs on her neck prickled.

She turned toward the restaurant's entrance.

There stood Lucian Graves.

Dressed in his signature all-black ensemble, the Quantum Innovations CEO cut an imposing figure. The partial obsidian mask he wore added an air of dangerous mystique, drawing every eye in the room.

Rosalind hadn't noticed his arrival. Now those piercing silver eyes locked onto her and Julian with unsettling intensity.

Her breath hitched.

A group of executives materialized around Lucian. "Mr. Graves, your table is ready."

They began moving through the narrow corridor.

Julian protectively pulled Rosalind aside. "Careful."

She clutched the book tighter as they stepped back.

The entourage passed by.

One executive recognized them. "Professor Ashford, Miss Fairchild."

Julian inclined his head. "Mr. Pembroke."

Lucian paused, eyeing Julian. "A professor so young?"

Lawrence Pembroke nodded obsequiously. "The brightest mind of his generation. And might I say, he and Miss Fairchild make quite the striking pair."

Rosalind's jaw tightened. Last night's "thank you" had been her silent farewell.

If Lucian had moved on, so would she.