Chapter 111

Ethan seized Evelyn's wrist, his grip tightening. "Evelyn, are you done yet? Don’t you feel ashamed?"

Her laugh was sharp, mocking. "Ashamed? Of what?"

"Of making a spectacle of yourself. Let’s go. I’m taking you home." He tugged her toward the exit, his jaw clenched.

Trevor blinked, stunned. Did I hear that right?

Ethan never bothered with Evelyn before. Since when did he care where she went?

Evelyn yanked her arm free. "What’s your problem? Who do you think you are, dragging me around? I don’t want anything to do with Vanessa’s man. Stay away from me."

The words Vanessa’s man hit Ethan like a slap.

For seven years, Evelyn had been the one trailing after him, earning the nickname "his shadow" from their friends.

Now, in her eyes, he was just Vanessa’s man—an object, a possession.

The shift was jarring.

Ethan’s expression darkened. "You’re drunk."

"Not drunk enough to forget who you belong to," she shot back, stepping away.

Trevor whistled under his breath. Damn.

This wasn’t the Evelyn he knew.

The Evelyn who used to hang on Ethan’s every word, who never dared to defy him, was gone.

In her place stood a woman with fire in her eyes and steel in her voice.

Ethan reached for her again. "I said we’re leaving."

Evelyn dodged his grasp. "Touch me again, and I’ll make sure Vanessa hears all about how hands-on you’ve been tonight."

A threat.

A real one.

Ethan froze.

Trevor choked on his drink. Holy hell.

Since when did Evelyn play dirty?

The tension crackled between them, thick enough to cut.

Then, from the shadows, a smooth voice cut in.

"Problem here?"

Alexander Whitmore stepped into the light, his gaze flicking between them.

Evelyn’s breath caught.

Ethan’s jaw tightened.

And Trevor?

He just grinned.

This just got interesting.

From this moment forward, it would only be Vanessa.

Evelyn shoved him away, putting deliberate distance between them.

A sharp shriek pierced the air—Claire’s voice.

Evelyn’s head snapped toward the sound. When she turned, her eyes widened. Lucas had somehow managed to grab Claire and hoist her effortlessly onto his shoulders.

Claire hadn’t even noticed him approaching. One second, she was standing, the next, her feet left the ground in a dizzying lurch.

With practiced ease, Lucas adjusted his grip, carrying her as if she weighed nothing more than a sack of flour.

Claire’s expression darkened instantly. “You absolute jerk! Put me down right now! I was in the middle of drinking with those gorgeous guys!”

“Gorgeous?” Lucas scoffed. “Those are paid escorts. Dozens of women have had their hands all over them. You really want to risk catching something?”

“So what? I don’t care!” Claire shot back, struggling against his hold. “At least they’re way hotter than you!”

She had always been quick with her words, never backing down from an argument. “And we weren’t just drinking—we were going to get a room after!”

“Hotter than me?” Lucas’s lips curled into a dangerous smirk. He turned his head slightly, casting a cold glance at the two frozen male escorts standing nearby.

The dim lights of Eclipse Lounge pulsed with energy as Lucas Bennett tightened his grip around Claire Dawson's waist.

"You're seriously choosing them over me?" His voice dripped with mock offense, lips curling into that infuriating smirk she knew too well.

Claire rolled her eyes, but the heat creeping up her neck betrayed her.

"Lucas, don't be ridiculous. They're just—"

"Just what?" He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "If you have needs, sweetheart, all you had to do was ask. As your husband, it's my privilege to satisfy you." His fingers traced the curve of her hip. "But since you initiated this, don’t come crying to me later when you can’t walk straight."

Before she could retort, he swept her off her feet.

"Put me down, you arrogant—!" Claire thrashed, fists pounding against his chest, but Lucas didn’t so much as flinch. His arms were steel bands, unyielding as he carried her past the gawking crowd.

The moment they disappeared through the exit, the two gigolos exchanged glances before slinking toward Evelyn Carter.

One of them, a blond with a practiced smile, sidled up to her. "Miss, you look like you could use some company." His fingers brushed her arm.

Evelyn recoiled, shooting a venomous glare at Ethan Caldwell.

The other gigolo snorted. "Dude, her man’s right there."

"He is not my man!" Evelyn snapped, dropping back onto the velvet couch with enough force to make the ice in her glass clink.

The blond, undeterred, leaned closer—until Ethan’s knuckles cracked audibly.

Evelyn bolted upright, nearly knocking over her drink. "Touch me again, and I’ll break your fingers."

The gigolos exchanged another look.

This wasn’t worth the paycheck.

"You...you should leave now," she stammered.

The two male escorts exchanged glances before nodding. "Then settle the bill, please."

Evelyn froze. Claire hadn’t paid earlier?

"How much?" she asked, her voice tight.

"Sixty thousand dollars."

Her breath hitched. "Excuse me?"

"Sixty thousand dollars," one repeated, his tone indifferent.

They had barely spent twenty minutes with them. Sixty thousand?

Her fingers trembled as she reached for her phone.

This couldn’t be happening.