She Was Never Just a Pretty Face novel Chapter 127

Because she had leaked the details of the agreement, Jolie found herself completely sidelined once again.

Luther hadn't seen her in days.

The divorce proceedings between him and Hilda seemed to have stalled entirely. Jolie was burning with anxiety.

Damien sought her out frequently, intentionally picking the dirtiest, most rundown motels to sleep with her, degrading her in the most vulgar ways imaginable. And yet, over time, she had somehow grown addicted to it. Every night, she found herself eagerly anticipating his rough touch.

Inside yet another dilapidated motel room, Damien handled Jolie with aggressive force.

But even as she surrendered to the physical thrill, Jolie's ultimate goal remained becoming Mrs. Sanford. Luther had been ignoring her lately, but an opportunity finally presented itself.

Naomi Zeller had flown into Alpha City from France.

Operating in a personal capacity, Naomi was hosting a lavish banquet.

She was publicly recognizing and honoring the benefactor who had changed her life. That person was The Bibliophile.

If there hadn't been value in it, Jolie wouldn't have bothered paying attention at all.

But she had heard that Hilda was also on the guest list. What was she doing going to something like this?

What business did a soon-to-be-ex-wife have there? Was she just going to watch The Bibliophile confess her undying love to Luther?

Pushing herself up on the bed, Jolie looked at Damien. "Didn't you say you wanted to be Mrs. Sanford's lover? Do you want to meet her?"

She tossed an invitation card straight at his chest.

It was for the banquet Naomi was hosting.

Naomi was the official representative for the French company Mokshalia. Anyone in Alpha City trying to break into the cosmetics and fragrance industry was desperately trying to get in her good graces. The banquet was set to be a massive affair.

It looked like she was truly committed to honoring The Bibliophile as her closest mentor.

Her hair was tied back loosely, framing a delicate, perfectly proportioned face that was stunningly beautiful. She wore a white, high-necked lace top underneath a tailored black blazer. It was an intellectual, affluent look, yet her natural softness made her appear extraordinarily gorgeous. Even the slender fingers wrapped around her cup were beautiful beyond reason.

A burning heat flared in Damien's eyes.

But he wasn't a monster. He wasn't going to harbor malicious thoughts just because he saw a beautiful woman on the street.

He wanted to worship her, not violently possess her.

The young man simply stopped on the sidewalk. Using one hand, he tore open his cigarette box, pulled one out, and placed it between his lips. He inhaled slowly, his gaze locked intensely on the woman's face.

There was obsession. There was joy. There was infatuation.

Little did he know, they would be formally introduced very soon.

Her true identity was Luther's wife—the very woman he had mentally scoffed at just moments prior.