Chapter 8:
“Freya. Enough.” Kristian’s voice was winter itself. He didn’t look at Freya, his hand still resting on Ashley’s back.
“You’re here to apologize.”
Freya pulled out her phone, tapped the video recorder, and smiled. “Funny. I thought you brought me here to witness your cheating in person.”
The room plunged into silence.
Freya saved the video with a deliberate tap, then slid her phone into her purse. “What do you think your mother would do if she received this?”
Kristian’s face hardened into marble.
Still handsome, Freya noted absently. Even fury couldn’t dull the sharp lines of his jaw—the man was unfairly attractive.
“Are you threatening me?” His voice was dangerously quiet.
“Just admiring the view.” She waved a hand toward them. “You’re both so… photogenic. I could frame every shot.” Her gaze lingered, mocking. “But is this really how you want to handle things?”
Kristian didn’t budge. His stance screamed loyalty—to Ashley, not Freya.
“Fine.” Freya dropped her purse onto a chair with a thud.
Confusion rippled through the room, except for Gerard. His stomach dropped. He had a hunch she was plotting something.
And he was right.
Freya seized Gerard’s arm, her tone breezy. “Let’s make this quick. Gerard and I have business to discuss later.”
Gerard’s composure shattered. “Sir, I swear, Mrs. Shaw and I, it’s not what it—”
𝒇𝓮𝓻𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓱𝒆𝓭 𝒕𝓱𝓮𝓷𝒏𝓮𝓬𝓮𝓿𝒆𝓼 𝑔𝓪𝗅𝗇𝗈ν𝖊𝗅𝓈.𝓬𝓸𝓂
“Why so nervous?” Freya patted his sleeve, a viper’s smile curling her lips. “Miss Bradley isn’t flustered, and she’s the one clinging to my husband.”
Gerard choked. Kristian’s glare could’ve frozen lava.
Ashley’s fingers twitched under the blanket, her sweetness cracking to reveal something darker.
Kristian’s jaw clenched. Gerard’s arm in Freya’s grip suddenly seemed wrong.
“Gerard.” The warning in Kristian’s voice could’ve toppled empires.
Gerard yanked his arm—once, twice. Freya’s grip didn’t yield.
How was she this strong?! Panic scrambled his thoughts.
“Sir—” His voice cracked. “Nothing’s happening here, I—”
Kristian’s eyes went arctic.
Yet he adjusted Ashley’s pillow and pulled his hand away from her.
Freya released Gerard with a smirk. She sank into a chair, crossing her legs.
Gerard exhaled like a man granted a last-minute pardon.
Ashley watched them, her nails biting into her palm under the sheets.
“Miss Bradley.” Freya laced her fingers together. “My darling tells me you’ve accused me of hiring your attacker—with evidence.” She stressed the word, gaze locked on Kristian. “Care to share?”
Ashley cast a quick glance at Kristian and, with an unmistakable air of intimacy, said, “I’ll listen to Kristian.”
Freya, her striking eyes lifting slightly, turned to Kristian. “Darling, can I take a look?”
.
.
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