She Was Never Just a Pretty Face novel Chapter 21

Night had fallen by the time Luther returned to the apartment.

He tossed his car keys onto the console table. Changing into his slippers, he made his way to the master bedroom.

The living room was empty, as was the bedroom, but a faint rustling came from the walk-in closet.

Pushing the door open, he found Hilda standing in front of the full-length mirror, putting the finishing touches on her appearance.

She wore a dark red crinkled silk dress by Max Mara. Her curves were generous and breathtaking, cinched by a slender waist—a figure that effortlessly commanded a man's attention. Her raven hair was pinned back, and she wore a delicate diamond bracelet, a piece from before her marriage.

Luther stared at her for several seconds. His gaze shifted to the glass display cabinet nearby. Resting on top was the heirloom emerald bracelet his grandmother had given her.

Luther picked it up, his tone indifferent. "Why aren't you wearing this?"

Hilda glanced at him through the mirror. She bent down to pull out a pair of stilettos. As she slipped them on, her slender legs caught the luminous glow of the crystal chandelier, reminding Luther of how they had felt in his hands last night. To his surprise, a faint thrum of desire stirred within him.

Once her heels were on, Hilda spoke coolly. "It's too valuable. Better to leave it here until the divorce is finalized, and then you can take it back. Luther, I won't take what isn't mine, but I won't hold back on what I'm owed either. I'm accompanying you to a social event tonight. This dress and the shoes are new; they cost $3,500. I already reported it to Lori, and she said she'll reimburse me. From now on, whenever there's an occasion like this, I'll expense it to Lori. I won't be polite about it."

She was all business.

Luther wanted to lash out, but he couldn't find a single flaw in her logic. They were a contract couple; what affection was there to speak of?

Once his irritation faded, he thought for a moment and said, "I'll get you a card. It'll have an $80,000 monthly limit. Draw from it for whatever you want to buy."

An $80,000 limit was a very subtle number.

—Enough to maintain a wealthy wife's basic dignity. But not nearly enough to buy truly expensive handbags and jewelry.

If there was an important occasion, she could borrow from his safe. He had acquired many precious jewels from auctions and kept them locked away. As a man, he rarely looked at them and didn't even know exactly how many there were; Lori held the itemized list.

How could Hilda not understand Luther's true intentions? If it weren't for her underlying value to him, he wouldn't even be willing to give her $8,000, let alone $80,000. He had already swallowed up every penny of her fifty-million-dollar settlement fee.

Hilda offered a calm smile. "Thank you."

Luther studied her expression in the mirror.

She was far too composed.

...

Luther brought Hilda to the club.

The black Bentley gleamed under the night sky.

The valet was visibly stunned when he saw Hilda step out, a hint of disguised admiration in his voice. "Mind your step, ma'am."

Luther highly appreciated The Bibliophile's work. He pondered for a moment before speaking.

"I heard The Bibliophile studied under Zoltan Varga. No wonder I can see traces of his style in her work."

Jolie offered a faint smile. "So she's a disciple of Zoltan Varga... No wonder."

This was a conversation Hilda had no part in. It was a private, exclusive dialogue between Luther, Harrell, and Jolie. She was entirely focused on alienating Hilda.

After wrapping up the art discussion, Jolie suggested they play a dice game.

Luther offered a warm smile, not rejecting Jolie as she took the seat right beside him.

Anyone watching could instantly tell that in Luther's world, Jolie was still the true 'leading lady,' her position utterly unshakable.

This was exactly the effect Jolie wanted. How could Hilda possibly compare to her? Even Luther probably felt she wasn't presentable enough.

Hilda didn't care. She walked out to the terrace to catch the evening breeze.

The night wind played with her loose strands of hair, softening the delicate lines of her face. Her skin was almost translucent, breathtakingly beautiful.

She stood there for a moment before the glass door behind her made a faint sound. Someone had followed her out.