Chapter 127

Why was it that every single time, this man had her completely under his thumb?

After washing her hands, Summer took a steadying breath and walked out of the restroom.

Finished

Off to one side of the narrow corridor outside, a woman stood alone.

She was striking.

Her curves were wrapped in a slinky, provocative dress that shimmered faintly under the lights. A slender hand held a cigarette between two fingers, wisps of smoke curling lazily around her, veiling her expression in mystery and allure.

But it was the woman’s sultry gaze that was impossible to ignore. One look was enough to pull you under. She was dangerous and seductive—like an enchantress straight out of myth.

Summer recognized her immediately.

This was the same woman who had just been dancing with Fraser.

She walked past her without a word, her expression calm and indifferent. But just as she passed, a jade-like hand shot out and blocked her path.

“Ms. Stewart, isn’t it?” The woman’s voice was soft and alluring, tinged with a faint huskiness from the cigarette she was smoking. “I’m Madeleine,” she continued smoothly. “Marc Gerber’s heiress.”

Summer stopped and turned to face her. “What is it?” she asked coolly.

Madeleine didn’t bother with pleasantries. “What’s your relationship with Fraser?”

Summer frowned slightly. “I don’t think that’s something I need to explain to you.”

Madeleine let out a low, smoky laugh. The heavy scent of cigarettes filled the corridor, making Summer instinctively step back.

“I’ve decided I want him,” Madeleine said bluntly. “I don’t care what’s going on between you two. I’ll have him. I want to sleep with him.”

The sheer audacity of the statement made Summer’s stomach twist.

“You should probably tell him that directly,” Summer replied curtly. “It’s not something I can help you with.”

Madeleine hummed softly. “You don’t mind?” she asked, tilting her head, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. “My sixth sense tells me you’ve already slept with him.”

Is every French woman this direct?

Summer’s expression stiffened for just a split second.

“Don’t misunderstand,” Madeleine continued lightly. “I don’t want to be his woman. But tell me—how is he in bed? He doesn’t strike me as the cold type.”

Summer stared at her, momentarily speechless.

How had this woman even come to that conclusion?

But being questioned so shamelessly made something snap inside her.

“Seven times in one night,” Summer replied evenly. “What do you think?”

Madeleine’s eyes lit up. “Oh my god,” she breathed, excitement flashing across her face. “He’s definitely my type.”

“But,” Summer added sharply, “you won’t get the chance.”

With that, she turned on her heel and walked away, her chest tight with frustration and simmering irritation.

By the time she returned to the ballroom, the music had faded and the atmosphere had settled back into its usual opulence. Crystal glasses clinked softly. Laughter rippled through the air. Wine flowed freely as the city’s elite slipped seamlessly back into polite conversation.

Summer stood among the crowd, outwardly composed, but her thoughts were anything but calm.

Circling sharks, she thought.

Just then, her phone vibrated softly in her hand.

She lowered her gaze to the screen, her brows knitting together.

Where did he even go?