Chapter 855

Lucian told Rosalind to quit playing games.

Rosalind's cheeks flushed crimson. Here was a fully grown man, parked outside her apartment at midnight, demanding she come downstairs. The implications were crystal clear.

She wasn't some innocent schoolgirl. Three years ago, they'd already crossed that line.

Biting her lower lip, Rosalind typed out a reply. [Exhausted. Going to bed now.]

Inside the sleek black Bentley, Lucian sat alone. His long fingers tightened around the phone as he read her message.

Tired, she claimed.

A slow, knowing smirk curved his lips.

[Breaking your promise already?]

Rosalind dove under her silk sheets, pulling them over her head. The audacity of him accusing her of reneging!

After a moment's hesitation, she fired back. [I said I'd thank you properly, but I never specified when!]

Silence.

Lucian didn't respond.

Tossing in bed, Rosalind squeezed her eyes shut. But sleep eluded her. The sheets tangled around her restless legs as she checked her phone again—still nothing from Lucian.

The night was too quiet.

Something felt... incomplete.

Against her better judgment, she slipped out of bed and padded to the window. Peering down, she saw his car still idling below.

11:37 PM glowed on her phone screen.

Was he seriously planning to camp out there all night?

Inside the car, Lucian had no intention of leaving. Even if he returned to his penthouse, work would be impossible. His mind was consumed with thoughts of Rosalind.

Yet she refused to come down.

Leaning back against the buttery leather seat, he stretched his long legs and exhaled with wry amusement.

Then—a sharp rap on his window.

Lucian glanced up to see a voluptuous figure outside. The woman wore a scandalously tight dress that left little to the imagination.

He lowered the window slightly. "Yes?"

His car practically screamed wealth, and this woman had clearly been watching him. A luxury vehicle, a handsome man alone at night—irresistible bait.

She leaned forward, her low-cut top gaping. "Hey there, handsome. Keeping lonely company tonight?"

Lucian remained silent.

Undeterred, she toyed with her spaghetti strap, letting it slip off one shoulder. "I'm free too. How about we grab drinks at The Velvet Lounge?"

Just as Lucian opened his mouth to respond, a cool feminine voice cut through the night.

"He's not alone."

Lucian turned to see Rosalind standing there—she'd finally come down.

The stranger shot Rosalind a venomous glare. "Who the hell are you? I'm having a private conversation here."

Rosalind's gaze swept over the woman. "My apologies. I happen to know this gentleman quite well."

"So what? That doesn't give you the right to interrupt!"

Rosalind nearly laughed. Some women truly had no shame—just like Arabella.

A slow smile curved Rosalind's lips. "Let me clarify. I'm his wife."

"Wife?" The woman recoiled. "You're joking."

"Does this look like a joke to you?" Rosalind's voice turned icy. "I suggest you walk away before I expose you as the homewrecker you are."