Next Man, Better Plan novel Chapter 19

Stephanie stared into Quennel’s eyes. “Then tell me, if it’s our home, why did you bring Victoria there behind my back?”

Quennel froze, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. “You know about that?”

Stephanie gave a cold laugh and tried to walk past him.

What was there to talk about? He had already admitted it. There was nothing left to say.

Quennel blocked her path, quickly explaining, “That was an accident. I had too much to drink at a work dinner. Victoria can’t drive, and we happened to be near the mansion, so she just dropped me off.”

“And then? You two spent a passionate night together in the house I decorated?”

Stephanie tilted her head back, her eyes welling up. “A drunken mistake, is that it? That’s an excuse for children.”

There was no such thing as a truly drunken mistake, only a willing surrender between two people already walking a fine line.

Alcohol was just a catalyst, an excuse for their behavior. You couldn’t blame it on the alcohol.

Quennel frowned. “Stephanie, what are you imagining? A drunken mistake? We didn’t do anything!”

Stephanie challenged him. “Are you telling me nothing happened between you two?”

Quennel faltered, at a loss for words.

He couldn’t answer her directly because he felt a pang of guilt.

He hadn’t done anything with Victoria, but she had confessed her feelings for him that night. Not only that, but while he was groggy, she had climbed onto his lap and kissed him.

Drunk, Quennel had mistaken Victoria for Stephanie and responded passionately. He had watched this girl grow up and had always restrained himself, but the ‘Stephanie’ that night was uncharacteristically bold. The urge to devour her had consumed him.

Stephanie cut him off. “I made myself clear last night. We just don't see the world the same way. Tell your parents to stop contacting me. I want nothing to do with you! This isn’t a fight. I am serious about ending this! Do you understand?”

Quennel frowned. “Don’t say things you don’t mean. You came back today because you can’t let me go, right?”

Quennel’s eyes scanned Stephanie’s body.

She was wearing a daffodil-yellow dress that accentuated her fair skin, making it look as if it would bruise at the slightest touch.

The hemline fell just to her knees, with a small slit in the back that elegantly highlighted her figure. She was beautiful.

Quennel knew she didn’t own this dress. She must have worn it specially to see him.

He had once told her he loved seeing her in dresses, even possessively saying, “Stephanie, from now on, you can only wear them for me.”