Chapter 131

"You really are Little Critter, aren't you!" Evadne's cheeks flushed pink, her eyes crinkling with delight.

The man's lips curved into a smile, the icy glint in his gaze melting away. His left arm slid around her slender waist while his right hand adjusted his glasses with his middle finger. It had been years since anyone called him by that childhood nickname.

Even his father had stopped using it. But Evadne still did—boldly, unapologetically, just like when they were kids.

"Fifteen years, and you're still as stunning as ever," he murmured.

"And you're still ridiculously handsome," she shot back, grinning.

Her fingers reached up, playfully tapping his cheek with a casualness that would have been improper from anyone else. But this was Evadne—unfiltered, unguarded. If she had suddenly turned prim, he wouldn’t have recognized her.

A hiccup escaped her lips, and she swayed, struggling to stay upright.

Without hesitation, he scooped her into his arms.

"Put me down!" she protested, squirming like an indignant kitten, her face flushed crimson.

Her legs kicked beneath her dress, the movement careless and uncoordinated.

His grip tightened. "Tell me my full name, and I will."

"Your name is..." Evadne's drunken mind fumbled, the words slipping through her fingers like smoke.

"Avery Chambers. But 'Little Critter' works just fine." His breath brushed her ear as he added softly, "Though that name belongs to you alone."

Not that she heard it. The words dissolved into meaningless noise in her alcohol-clouded mind.

Avery settled her gently onto the sofa, his touch featherlight.

His phone buzzed—his secretary.

"Mr. Chambers, everyone's waiting."

"Send them home." His gaze never left Evadne's flushed face.

"Excuse me?"

"Cancel the meeting. And bring me lemonade. Now."

The secretary didn’t dare argue.

Meanwhile, Jareth had collapsed on another sofa, completely out cold after his last off-key performance.

Thaddeus scowled, irritation prickling under his skin. He snatched the half-empty bottle from the table and downed it in one go.

Then he stole one of Jareth’s cigarettes, lighting it with a sharp flick. The glow cast shadows across his sharp features, lending him a dangerous edge.

Nicotine and frustration coiled in his lungs. Ever since the divorce, his life had spiraled—smoking, drinking, no one left to scold him for it.

"Evadne... Evadne..." Jareth mumbled in his sleep, fingers clawing at his collar.

Thaddeus kicked his arm. "Shut up. She’s not coming back."

The door burst open. Gordon stood there, panting.

"Learn to knock," Thaddeus snapped.

"Sir—it's Mrs. Abernathy!"

Thaddeus shot to his feet. "Where?"

"Promise me you won’t lose your temper."

"Out with it!"

Gordon swallowed hard. "I saw her walk into a private room. A man in glasses carried her inside."

Thaddeus's vision went red. "Take me there. Now."

The lemonade arrived swiftly.

Avery held the glass to Evadne’s lips, patiently helping her sip. His secretary watched, stunned—her ruthless boss, tenderly caring for a woman?

Unthinkable.

"Better?" he asked as color returned to her cheeks.

Evadne groaned, pressing a hand to her stomach. The room had stopped spinning, but nausea still churned inside her.

"Alcohol isn’t kind to you," Avery chided, offering her water.

She blinked up at him, piecing together fragments of the night. He was handsome. Kind. And those glasses made him look unfairly refined.

"You seem familiar," she mumbled, rubbing her temple.

Avery’s smile tightened. She’d forgotten him, after all.

The door exploded inward.

Thaddeus stormed in like a hurricane.

Avery’s expression frosted over.

"Mr. Chambers, that’s Thaddeus Abernathy!" the secretary whispered urgently.

"Get him out," Avery said coldly.

The secretary stepped forward. "Mr. Abernathy, you need to—"

Thaddeus shoved past her. His towering frame loomed over Evadne, his glare lethal.

She blinked up at him, dazed. "Thaddeus? What the hell?"

"Come. Now."

He seized her wrist, yanking her toward him.

Rage burned through him. This woman—stealing his projects by day, throwing herself at strangers by night.

And that stranger? A pretentious bastard in glasses.

Had she no shame?

"Let go of me!" Evadne twisted free, still unsteady. "Who do you think you are?"

"Don’t test me," he growled, grip tightening.

Avery caught her other arm.

She gasped as pain shot through her shoulders—torn between them.

"She said no," Avery said icily. "Or do you make a habit of manhandling women?"

"This doesn’t concern you," Thaddeus snarled.

Avery adjusted his glasses. "If I’m an outsider, what are you to her?"

They answered simultaneously.

Thaddeus: "Her husband."

Evadne: "Ex."