Facade of Love (Yvette Scott and Idris Young) novel Chapter 465

It was hard to miss someone who was easy on the eyes. He leaned against a white sports car, his composed gaze fixed on me, and the cigarette in his hand glowed against the evening's gray, like a ghostly flame flickering with silent menace.

I was ready for that, knowing he would track me down sooner or later. So when I saw him, I did not freak out. I was not scared, not one bit.

Gregory did not push me to head for the border, but I knew Lucas would show up eventually. I was in no rush.

"Yvette, it's been a while," he called out, flicking his cigarette away with a smirk, watching me from afar.

It's been a while!

I have heard that a lot lately, each person saying it with their own spin, their own mood. However, coming from him, it just rubbed me the wrong way.

Had it really been that long?

It felt like just a blink, barely two weeks. Why did it seem like ages?

I eyed him, breaking the silence with a tone that was neither icy nor warm, "You showed up way sooner than I thought you would."

His lips curled into a blinding grin at that. "Does that mean you've been dying to see me?"

Oh, if only he knew. Dying to see him drop dead, maybe, or get sliced and diced into a million pieces.

I just flashed a tight-lipped smile, keeping my thoughts to myself while my eyes probably threw daggers.

He caught the look, his brow creasing in annoyance. He strode over, his hand rough against my cheek as he scolded, "Cut it out with those dagger eyes, you know I hate that."

With a sharp flick, I batted his hand away. "Spit it out. What do you want?"

He did not trek all the way here just to chit-chat, that was for sure.

He pressed his lips together, a frown creasing his forehead, but he got straight to the point. "I heard you've been shacking up with Maxwell, that pretty boy. Be a dear, pack your stuff, and let's go."

I did not bother asking where to. I just headed straight for Maxwell's place. Not like I had much to pack—just that book, "The Legend of Jumaroshan," I had not finished. Might as well take it to kill time.

Maxwell was not back yet. I left him a note so he would not worry his head off.

Packing, what a joke. I had nothing to my name, not even a spare set of clothes—just the ones Maxwell had thrown together for me last minute.

Downstairs, Lucas eyed the book in my grip, one eyebrow arching. "That's everything?"