No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 271

Ian figured that if Eleanor was out so late for dinner, she must have brought her daughter along. He’d only come by to say hello to the little girl.

But—

Standing just outside the private lakeside dining room, Ian paused behind the beaded curtain. Through a gap, he could see Eleanor laughing and chatting with a man he didn't recognize.

The man looked young, every movement radiating that unmistakable military bearing.

He was leaning in, listening intently to whatever Eleanor was saying, admiration shining plainly in his eyes.

And there it was—on Eleanor’s face, a lightness, a smile Ian hadn’t seen in a long time.

Ian pushed aside the curtain.

“Eleanor.”

The laughter died instantly.

Eleanor looked up. When she saw Ian stride in uninvited, her expression turned cold. “Is there something you need?”

Mansfield Ellington’s gaze lingered between the two of them. He’d spent most of his life on the base, and Ian was so low-profile that even he hadn’t met him before. He turned to Eleanor for clarification. “And this is…?”

“My ex-husband,” Eleanor answered, crisp and direct.

Ian didn’t even flinch at the title. His eyes rested on Mansfield Ellington, narrowing slightly as he addressed Eleanor. “A new friend? Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

Mansfield stood and offered his hand. “Mansfield Ellington.”

“Ian.” Ian crossed the room and shook his hand with a brief, firm grip.

A barely perceptible frown creased Ian’s brow. Ellington?

He recalled the way Mayor Ellington had treated Eleanor so warmly last time, and now here was another Ellington, exuding that unmistakable air of a serviceman.

Ian released his hand, his tone cool. “May I ask what your relationship is with my ex-wife, Mr. Ellington?”

“Friends,” Mansfield replied without hesitation, his demeanor steady and composed.

He may not have met Ian in person before, but Ian’s reputation in business circles was well-known. And lately, with all the news surrounding Eleanor’s divorce, Ian’s name had come up more than once.

Ian looked up as they approached.

“Careful with the steps,” Mansfield murmured, his hand hovering politely at the small of Eleanor’s back.

Ian’s gaze darkened. He flicked his cigarette to the ground, crushing it underfoot, then strode over.

“I had a few drinks tonight,” Ian said coolly. “Would you mind giving me a ride?”

Eleanor hadn’t expected Ian to ask for a favor. She turned her face away, her voice chilly. “You can call a cab.”

She’d driven herself, but she had no intention of letting him tag along.

Mansfield spun his car keys around his finger. “Which way are you headed, Mr. Goodwin? I can drop you off.”

Ian declined with a polite nod. “No need, Mr. Ellington. Eleanor and I live in the same neighborhood.”

Eleanor didn’t want to take him, but she was even less willing to trouble Mansfield. She shot Ian an exasperated look. “Wait here.”