Awakened Housewife Ignore Betrayer's Begs (Scarlett) novel Chapter 542

After leaving Ravenshade Villa, Vincent drove for maybe ten minutes before pulling up to the spot Harris had texted him.

By the time he walked in, Harris had already killed a bottle of wine on his own. He glanced up at Vincent with booze-glazed eyes and said, his voice thick, "Vincent. There you are. Tough guy to get ahold of. I'm in a shit mood, and it took an act of Congress to get you to grab a drink with me."

Vincent sat down, reached over, and took the glass right out of Harris' hand. "Take it easy on the booze," he said.

But Harris snatched it right back, his face flushed. "No way. I'm good. I wanna drink more. Don't stop me. If you actually give a damn, then drink a couple with me."

Hearing that, Vincent poured himself a glass of red. He clinked it against Harris', then tilted his head back and took a few slow sips.

His gaze drifted across the room and landed on a familiar face. Damian. His rival.

Damian was sprawled back against the booth, looking bored, one arm draped over the seat. Across from him sat a woman—and it wasn't Scarlett.

Vincent narrowed his eyes. Damian was deep in conversation with her.

Without really thinking, his mind went to Scarlett. He pulled out his phone, steadied it, and snapped a shot of Damian and Melinda in what looked like a pretty cozy chat.

He sent the photo to Scarlett without a second thought.

After it went through, he waited.

A few minutes crawled by. Her reply finally came—just a question. "What's your point?"

Vincent typed back, "What do you think my point is?"

She didn't respond after that.

He stared at the screen for a long time. Nothing. Finally, he switched it off.

Tucking the phone away, he noticed Harris had polished off a fair bit more wine.

Vincent turned to him, frowning. "What's going on with you?"

Harris looked wiped. He shook his head. "Nothing. Just—feeling heavy. Shitty."

Vincent studied him for a second. Then he just came out and said it. "You're still hung up on Claire, aren't you?"

Harris didn't answer. Silence.

Vincent got the message. He pressed on. "There are a lot of women in this city. She's not worth you wrecking yourself over. Let it go. It's not worth it."

That made Harris go quiet.

Harris wasn't drunk. His head was still clear.

But he didn't regret a word he'd said. And he wasn't about to apologize.

As Vincent stepped out of the bar, someone approached him. A woman—striking, with the kind of walk that made you look twice, hips swaying like they might give out.

She all but fell into him when they crossed paths.

"Oops," she breathed, letting her fingers trail deliberately across his chest.

At the same time, she leaned in just enough. You could see everything with barely a glance.

Vincent didn't steady her. Instead, his voice dropped low. "I don't look heartless to you?"

The words came out cold, cutting through the bar's noise. She shivered in spite of herself.

Then, quick as she could, she forced a smile. "No... not at all. You're very handsome."

Vincent smiled at that.

But it was hard to say what the smile really meant.