Chapter 301 A Stage Set with Traps
<b>Leslie’s </b>POV
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Upstairs in the lounge, Carl walked in carrying clothes and shoes, his expression half exasperated. “Good thing the sponsor had your favorite brand ready. Dress and heels, all set. But don’t
you usually wear custom pieces to these events?”
His tone was teasing, but his hands were quick,ying everything neatly on the table.
Relief loosened my chest. I slipped off Adler’s jacket, turning my back to him. “Look…”
The zipper on my gown had split, baring a stretch of skin down my back.
That brand had worked with me for years–they’d never make such a basic mistake.
Carl’s expression darkened, his brows drawn tight. “Who did this? Wasn’t Liam handling it?”
I picked up the ck evening dress he’d brought and headed for the dressing room. “Not Liam. Someone else.”
“Who? I’ll deal with them!” His voice rose, sharp with Rogue Pack temper.
Iughed lightly and shut the door. “I’ll handle it. Go back downstairs.”
Asphodel’s growl lingered in my mind. “This is a woman’s game. A man doesn’t belong here.”
I stayed silent, slipping into the new gown. ck, elegant, cold—paired with matching heels from the same line, they fit as if molded to me.
Breathing easier, I smoothed the hem, though my thoughts still snagged on the broken heel and the split zipper from earlier.
I picked up my phone and dialed Shane. “Send Amelia up.”
“Yes,” he answered crisply.
When I opened the door, Carl’s assistant Demi was waiting. Her expression was respectful. “Leslie, Carl asked me to apany you tonight. He worried it wouldn’t be safe alone.”
I gave her a small smile. “Good. Wait here for Amelia. I’ll speak with her when shees up.”
Asphodel chuckled darkly. “She has exining to do.”
I nodded, adding, “Time’s almost up. I’m going back down first.”
Chapter 301 A Stage Set with Traps
“Of course,” Demi replied briskly.
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I descended the stairs. The theater lights below gleamed soft and brilliant, the stage prepared in full.
The front row had only one empty seat–between Kirby and Adler.
I hesitated, a breath catching in my throat.
Asphodel muttered. “That cement is poison.”
But I didn’t waver. I walked forward.
Adler spotted me, raised a hand, and smiled warmly.
I moved naturally to his side, sitting down with Rogue Pack poise intact.
Kirby was on the other side, his gaze hard, storm–dark, his silence heavier than words.
Relief touched me. Asphodel smirked. “Still sulking. At least he’s quiet.”
Adler leaned slightly closer, speaking low. “The pull of <i>The </i><i>Rogue </i><i>de </i>is incredible. The whole theater’s full of Carl’s fans.”
I curved a smile, voice modest but edged with pride. “My brother just looks good, acts well, and isn’t a terrible person.”
Adler blinked, then chuckled softly, nodding. “That’s true.”
His tone was light, but his eyes held warmth, like he was echoing my teasing with sincerity.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Kirby. He hadn’t said a word, his face sinking darker, his gaze fixed coldly on the stage.
Kirby’s POV
Adler seemed intent on unting himself. From time to time, he leaned close to Leslie, drawing augh from her, and each sound cracked like thunder in my ears.
My focus locked on the two of them so tightly that the entire first act slipped by unnoticed.
An usher approached, carrying three cups of coffee. Adler took the first and passed it to Leslie.
Without pause, she handed one to me, her movement casual, thoughtless.
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Chapter 301 A Stage Set with Traps
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I froze for a half second. Warmth flickered through me, softening the ice on my face. I reached for it. “Thank you.”
Lance rumbled low. “She offered first. Rare.”
But in the next heartbeat, the cup leaked. Hot coffee sshed down my suit, staining it dark.
My brows twisted. The mess clung to me like an insult, and my distaste for filth made it unbearable. Even with the y unfinished, I had to leave.
I rose sharply. My aide darted in, snatching my cane, his voice rushed. “I’m sorry, Alpha Kirby
His flustered tone was trembling, as though afraid of my wrath.
My eyes cut into him, sharp. My voice fell cold. “I don’t need you.”
Snatching back my cane, I turned to Leslie. “I’ll change. Be right back.”
She nodded once, calm, her attention already sliding back to the stage.
I caught a glimpse of the aide again–something about his face struck me as familiar.
Lance growled. “That one doesn’t feel right.”
But I didn’t dwell. Cane in hand, I left for the lounge.
Mch had sent the room number in advance. I followed the hall, found the door, pushed it
open.
The room was dark. On the sofay a woman’s handbag and a gown, and the air carried a faintly familiar perfume.
My eyes narrowed, freezing.
Lance’s voice thundered in my mind. “There’s a woman inside.”
Send <b>Gifts </b>
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