She Left She Thrived She’s Worth Billions novel Chapter 413

"It really is you," Melanie murmured, her lips twitching in utter disbelief.

She flagged down Daphne and immediately ordered the champagne.

Daphne didn't look the least bit surprised by Preston's scandalous appearance—clearly, this had been coordinated well in advance.

"Daphne, my divorce was finalized today. Come have a drink with me to celebrate. I even brought those roasted nuts we love!"

Melanie called out, waving her over.

However, Daphne just smirked and shook her head.

"I am not about to be a third wheel!"

Despite her words, she leaned in close to Melanie's ear.

"Since you're officially single, you'd be crazy not to take him home. That's a premium freebie walking right into your lap."

Daphne gave her a playful shove.

"Want me to go prep a room for you two?"

"Get back to work!"

Melanie flushed, pushing her friend away.

Daphne wasn't exactly quiet, and Melanie prayed Preston hadn't caught that last remark.

She turned back to find Preston methodically peeling the roasted nuts for her.

He was wearing pristine white gloves, yet his long fingers moved with a deft, practiced agility.

"I can do that myself. You're getting your gloves dirty."

Melanie tried to stop him, but Preston didn't look up.

"It doesn't matter. I want to serve you."

Melanie subconsciously pressed a hand to her chest.

Was he seducing her?

He was definitely seducing her!

The thick, electric tension radiating off him was almost suffocating. How did this stoic, untouchable billionaire transform into such a shameless tease?

He wasn't acting like the real club hosts who constantly fawned over their clients.

In fact, he kept his gaze lowered, focusing entirely on the simple task of peeling nuts for her.

Yet that intense, quiet focus only amplified his lethal charm.

Resting her chin on her hand, Melanie openly studied his profile.

She had never fully appreciated how sharp and immaculate his jawline was—it put A-list celebrities to shame.

Soon, a small plate was piled high. Preston pushed it toward her.

"Alright, that's more than enough."

Melanie watched as he stripped off the soiled white gloves, wiped his hands with a damp towelette, and seamlessly pulled on a fresh pair.

In that brief, gloveless moment, she caught a glimpse of his bare hands.

They were large, intensely masculine, with long, elegant fingers and perfectly manicured nails.

They were the kind of hands that could make a woman's mind wander to very dark, very delicious places.

Usually, men wore gloves to hide scars or because they were germaphobes.

If anything, she felt better knowing her money went directly to Daphne's club—keeping it in the family—so she wasn't just mooching off Preston's endless wealth.

Preston offered a slight, acknowledging nod, and a strange warmth blossomed in Melanie's chest.

She had sensed it since the beginning.

Beneath his icy, ruthless exterior, Preston possessed an incredibly tender heart.

She found herself locked in his gaze.

His eyes were dark, magnetic, pulling her in.

Slowly, that perfectly sculpted face began to lean closer.

As the distance between them closed, the air grew thick and dangerously hot.

Melanie’s heart hammered against her ribs, her breathing turning shallow.

He hadn't even touched her, yet his slow, deliberate proximity was devastating.

Am I drunk off one sip? Melanie scolded herself.

Heat rushed to her cheeks. Trapped under his intense scrutiny, she felt a desperate urge to flee.

Suddenly, she shot up from the leather booth.

"I—I need to use the restroom."

She tried to make a break for it, but Preston's hand shot out, his fingers locking securely around her wrist.

Right at that moment, an obnoxious shriek shattered their intimate bubble.

"I'll take this boy!"