Chapter 307 Dinner Meeting Tension
Chapter 307 Dinner Meeting Tension
Stop right <i>there</i>. <i>For </i><i>heaven’s </i>sake<i>, </i><i>Laura</i>, <i>where </i><i>is </i><i>your </i><i>mind </i><i>galloping </i>off to?
Weston’s voice cut through the cabin. “Staring at me like that–regretting the breakup?”
“Not even close.” Laura yanked her gaze back to the windshield. Decisively ending things back then <b>was </b>in her book, the single smartest move she had ever made.
Had she hesitated, she might have fallen for that dangerously handsome face all over <b>again</b>.
Weston leaned in, his voice a de cutting through the hum outside the windshield. “Do yourself <b>a </b>favor<b>, </b>darling. When we sit down, bury whatever pride is left. No one at that table can know you dumped <b>me </b>without regret.”
Laura shot him a sideways re,shes flicking upward like drawn des. “And what exactly is <b>that </b>supposed to mean?”
. Weston settled back, expression unmoved, eyes catching reflections of neon rain. “It means you’d better act like breaking up was the worst mistake of your life, and that right now you are hopelessly in love with me.”
Laura’s brow tightened. “Weston, it’s only a dinner meeting. Surely we don’t have to go that far.
He did not blink. “We do,” he said, the words striking like frost on ss.
The sedan rolled to a graceful stop before a private club, its headlights washing the limestone fa?ade in pale silver. Laura stepped out first, heels tapping like nervous metronomes. Weston matched her stride, guiding her through bronze doors and down a hush–carpeted corridor into an intimate private suite.
The moment they crossed the threshold, a jovial voice rose above the murmurs. “Mr. Windore, <i>at </ist. We thought you were going to stand us up.”
A second guest, eyes sharp with curiosity, tilted his ss toward Laura. “And thisdy is?”
Weston slipped an arm around her waist with practiced ease. “My girlfriend, Laura Wentworth,” he announced.
An electric ripple traveled through the room. Stares flicked her way–some surprised, some amused, some unreadable shadows of something else entirely.
Weston began the social waltz, naming each face–finance magnates, media brokers, consultants–drawing invisible threads between Laura and the powerwork that fueled Jexburgh.
Listening, Laura felt a quiet jolt run through her. These were not ordinary names; each belonged to a pir in Jexburgh’s elite circles.
Her own start–up had turned a tidy profit, yet in front of these titans, she suddenly felt like <b>a </b>freshman who had wandered into a graduate seminar. On any other night, meeting even one of them would <b>have </b>taken months of strategicworking and an improbable stroke of luck. Yet Weston was serving <b>her </b><b>the </b>entire directory on a silver tter, as though opening doors were as effortless as breathing.
Laura offered handshakes and warm nods, her manners precise, her smile measured, determined <b>not </b><b>to </b>
19:51 Wed 18 <b>Aug </b>
Chapter <b>307 </b>Dinner Meeting Tension
<b>betray </b>the churn in her stomach.
Someone chuckled. “Never thought the great Mr. Windore had a girlfriend. We were this close to <b>pairing </b>you with Serena here.”
Conversation tilted, chairs turned. Every gaze now settled on a woman whose presence felt like <b>moonlight </b>drawn indoors.
The woman, Serena Wynn, wore an ivory suit dress, its clean lines entuating <b>a </b>cool, almost austere
grace.
She offered a mild smile. “Oh, you exaggerate. I could never measure up to Mr. Windore. He’s <b>always </b>treated me like a junior colleague. Besides, Ms. Wentworth’s name rings a bell–it sounds a lot like his <b>ex’s </b>
That single remark shifted the atmosphere yet again; curious, probing stares converged on Laura <b>as </b>though she were suddenly under a theater spotlight.
In that moment, Laura understood why Weston had staged their little pre–game briefing in the car. <b>He </b><b>was </b>drafting her as a human shield against iing admirers.
Weston lifted his ss, voice casual. “Laura and I dated once, drifted apart, then crossed paths <b>again</b>. <b>Turns </b>out the feelings never left, so here we are–this time, I doubt we’ll ever split.” He looked <i>at </i>her, eyes <b>steady </b>
<i>What </i><i>a </i><i>joke</i>. <i>In </i><i>a </i><i>year </i><i>we’ll </i><i>be </i><i>strangers </i><i>again</i><i>. </i>
Still, Laura managed a gentleugh. “Yes, getting a second chance with Weston has made me incredibly happy,” she said, forcing warmth into every syble.
Someone pped their hands. “Then let’s toast to the two of them.”
Chairs scraped, sses lifted, the room quickly filling with warm amber reflections and the soft music of
toasts<b>. </b>
Laura limited herself to two small sips, then excused herself under the pretext of freshening up.
After washing her hands, she stepped back into the corridor–and nearly collided with Serena, who seemed to be waiting.
From the woman’s rigid posture and the impatient tap of her heel, Laura could tell she had been standing – here for one reason only: waiting for her.
“What is it?” Laura asked, eyebrow arched high, voice cool as ss.
“You’re not <i>good </i>enough for Mr. Windore,” Serena said, her words sharp and precise<b>, </b>each syble aiming to wound. “I heard you’re nothing but a nouveau–riche upstart. You hurt him once–left him bleeding. How dare you crawl back now?”
Laura rolled her eyes, amused by the revisionist history on disy. <i>Back </i><i>then</i><i>, </i>I was <b><i>the </i></b><i>one </i><i>left </i><i>bleeding</i><b>, </b>not <i>him</i>.
“Whether I’m good enough for Weston is between him and me. What business is it <b>of </b>yours<b>? </b><b>Who </b><b>exactly </b>are you to lecture me?”
Serena lifted her chin. “I’m speaking as someone who cares about Mr. Windore. <b>I </b><b>have </b><b>no </b><b>idea </b><b>what </b><b>you </b>
<b>wea </b>
Chapter 307 Dinner Meeting Tension
want from him, but he despises being used. The day he realizes you are exploiting him<b>, </b><b>he’ll </b><b>loathe </b>you
Laura let out a short, mockingugh. If anyone was being used today, it was her.
“Do you fancy Weston?” Laura asked, choosing bluntness over pretense.
“I simply believe he deserves someone better–someone who hasn’t already hurt him.”
Lauraughed, eyes bright. “Too bad for you–Weston has a taste for women like me.” She looked <b>over </b>Serena’s shoulder at the man approaching. “Weston, darling, tell your little protégé exactly how much <b>you </b>
crave me.”
Winning the moment mattered more than winning the war; this was a time to strike, not retreat.
5
Weston studied Laura, his lips pressed into a straight, unreadable line. Not a single word left him.
Laura closed the distance, looped her arms around his neck, and drew him down until her breath <b>grazed </b>his ear. “I helped you put on a show earlier,” she whispered, every syble meant for him alone. “<b>Now </b><b>you </b>help me.”
“What are you nning?” he murmured<i>, </i>voice low, wary yet intrigued.
Before he could protest, Laura pressed her mouth to his, stealing sound and sense alike.
19:51 Wed, 13 <b>Aug </b>