He Gave Me Hearing, Then Taught Me What Silence Really Means novel Chapter 143

Nelson Saint sat in a private booth at the bar, a thin sheet of paper resting on the table in front of him. It was a man's profile.

Miles Whitaker reached over, grabbed the file, and frowned. "What are you doing with this?"

It was a bartender with a troubled past, but Nelson's fabricated profile painted him as some rising tech genius. The so-called tech company was clearly a shell corporation. What the hell was he playing at?

Julian Sterling, ever the gossip, snatched the paper and studied it closely.

"Isn't this the gigolo who got beat up in the club a while back? I remember it being brutal. He's got a decent face, but his character is absolute garbage. Are you trying to sponsor him? Saint Group doesn't have a huge stake in the entertainment industry; it hardly warrants the CEO personally scouting talent, does it?"

He asked, picking up a glass of liquor to take a sip.

Nelson leaned back against the leather sofa, his tone flat. "He's Juniper's blind date."

"Pfft—!"

Julian nearly spit his drink across the table, staring at Nelson in disbelief.

Acting as if he had misheard, he repeated, "You? Setting Juniper up on a blind date?"

"Yeah. Is that so strange?"

Nelson's face was devoid of expression. He kept his eyes closed, his thoughts impossible to read.

Julian barked out a laugh. "Are you out of your mind? When Juniper was just having dinner with another guy, you dragged both of us to the restaurant and trapped her in the restroom for god knows what. And don't tell me nothing happened; judging by how she looked, you went pretty far."

As a notorious playboy, Julian was an expert at noticing those subtle shifts in a woman's demeanor.

Miles looked at Nelson, sudden realization dawning on him. "Eleanor is pushing this, isn't she? You faked this profile to get back at Juniper."

Tossing a notorious gigolo at Juniper was a calculated insult.

And coming from her ex, it was doubly humiliating.

Julian caught on, slowly setting his glass down.

As friends who genuinely looked out for one another, he had to speak up. "Nelson, I'm warning you, don't take this too far. If you push things past the point of no return, you're going to be the one crying later."

Before he came in, his manager had explicitly warned him not to offend these VIPs.

After all, the secret owners behind this high-end club—the favorite playground of the city's elite—were Miles and Nelson.

With Finn Lawrence also holding a stake, the combined power of their three families was enough to turn the city upside down.

He was nervous. Relying on his good looks and his position at this exclusive club, he usually targeted naive, overly sheltered rich girls. He had recently conned one, only for her family to beat him half to death. He had just fully recovered.

He did have an exceptionally handsome face, and some high rollers had made him indecent proposals, but he had always turned them down.

Now, standing before the absolute apex of the elite circle, beads of sweat rolled down his forehead.

Nelson's gaze swept over the man. Those eyes really did look alike.

Nelson had striking, deep-set eyes; he spoke with cruelty, but his gaze always appeared deceptively affectionate.

But Cillian Xavier was different. Cillian had slightly rounded eyes that radiated warmth and politeness.