Chapter 32:
Trent, known for his strategic maneuvers, wouldn’t reject an offer so outright unless his relationship with Freya actually meant something to him.
Felipe, not one to give up and still smarting from an earlier slight by Kristian, made another offer, his tone laced with a hint of mischief. “How about this,” he offered, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, “we have the private room next door. After you finish here, perhaps we could all meet for a chat?”
This time, Trent hesitated. Instead of a direct refusal, he turned to Freya, seeking her input with a silent, questioning gaze.
Trent wanted to agree—but the words stuck in his throat.
Freya didn’t want him tangled in her divorce, yet as her friend, he couldn’t stand by while she faced unfair treatment.
Besides, her father had entrusted him with a task: ensure Kristian knew Freya wasn’t standing alone.
For the first time, Freya misread Trent’s gaze, suspecting some unspoken alliance with Felipe. “I’m okay with that.”
“Alright,” Trent agreed, letting the moment pass without explanation. Felipe’s eyes sparkled with amusement. After a few exchanged words, he strode away.
The door clicked shut. Freya turned to Trent, her voice steady. “Just act like you normally would. Don’t adjust for me.”
“Okay.” Trent left it at that. When he faced Kristian later, polite restraint wouldn’t be necessary.
Felipe returned in high spirits. Leaning against the private room doorway, he smirked at Kristian. “They refused to share a table—didn’t want us ruining their cozy lunch.”
Kristian’s gaze darkened. His hand froze mid-reach in his pocket.
𝗦𝘁𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗽𝗼𝗶𝗻𝘁: ⲅⲁⳑ𝗇𝗈ν𝖊𝗅𝘀⫺𝖼𝗈𝗆
“But they agreed to meet later,” Felipe added. “You should’ve seen Trent—obedient as a devoted boyfriend. Anyone would assume they’re together.”
“Get your eyes checked.” Kristian’s retort was ice. “While you’re at it, hire a tutor for that pathetic vocabulary of yours.”
Felipe blinked, lost. He elbowed Zander. “What does he mean by that?”
“He just hates your commentary,” Zander replied, his smile gentle, almost apologetic.
Felipe gritted his teeth. Kristian always knew where to jab. This wasn’t over.
Thirty minutes later.
Felipe sent Kristian and Zander ahead to the upstairs club, playing escort for Freya and Trent himself. The club—a dimly lit haven of drinks and murmured conversations—was the restaurant’s post-dinner indulgence.
And the restaurant? Wholly Felipe’s.
“Meet my friends: Kristian Shaw and Zander Loftus.” Felipe’s grin widened as Kristian’s stare locked onto Freya. “This is Trent Seymour from Alerith… and his friend.”
Pleasantries were exchanged—brittle and brief. Kristian’s and Freya’s eyes met—a clash of silent fury.
“Kristian,” Felipe teased, “you’re a married man. Staring at Mr. Seymour’s ‘friend’ like that? Improper.”
“The ‘friend’ you mention is my wife.” Kristian’s tone was razor-sharp.
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