From His Invisible Wife to the World's Icon novel Chapter 137

Caught staring, she suddenly found herself locked in the intense gaze of his pitch-black eyes.

He threw back the black silk sheets, his long, powerful legs hitting the floor as he stood up and stalked toward her.

A lethal, icy aura poured off him in waves. His dark eyes were bottomless pits of danger as he backed her into a corner. Terrified, she retreated until her heels slammed into a side cabinet. The sudden thud sent her heart leaping into her throat.

Reeling backward, her elbow clipped a velvet jewelry box sitting on the counter, knocking it over.

The box hit the plush carpet and popped open.

A pair of pearl earrings tumbled out.

She looked down, her eyes widening as she recognized her own missing earrings. A sudden prickle of apprehension shot down the back of her neck.

Before she could process it, he grabbed her by the collar, lifting her up like a helpless kitten, and unceremoniously threw her out of 1201.

Well, "threw" was an exaggeration—he roughly deposited her in the hallway.

The door slammed shut in her face.

"Hey..." Lydia finally snapped out of her daze.

She raised her hand to knock but stopped herself, convinced she was overthinking it.

While those pearl earrings were expensive, they were absolutely not valuable enough for a billionaire like Xavier to secretly hoard.

Besides, she had only caught a brief glimpse. They might not even be hers. If she accused him and was wrong, she would die of embarrassment.

"Mr. Ford, your grandmother is looking for you..." Remembering the most critical detail, she rapped on the heavy wood.

"I'll call her," came his deep voice from the other side.

It was so clear, he hadn't moved an inch. He was still standing right by the door.

A bizarre flutter stirred in her chest as she turned and walked into 1202. Gable quickly filled her in on Frederick's impromptu visit, and Lydia silently thanked the older woman for covering for her.

Across town, Frederick drove to The Pulse and took a seat at the bar, ordering a neat whiskey.

The familiar, breathy laughs of a man and woman drifted over from a shadowy corner booth.

The man was tracing lazy circles on the woman's hand, while beneath the table, the woman's stiletto seductively trailed up his pant leg. The heavy, sexually charged atmosphere was par for the course in a high-end lounge, but seeing who it was...

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