She Was Never Just a Pretty Face novel Chapter 263

Joyce froze.

Why was he back?

Wasn't his business trip supposed to last three days?

As if reading her mind, the man unbuttoned his suit jacket and said with lazy nonchalance, "Things went smoothly, so I came back early... Why, are you not happy to see me?"

Though his tone was frosty.

It carried an inexplicable, lingering intimacy.

Joyce bit her lower lip softly and stayed silent.

Wilma, always quick to read the room, instantly stepped in to smooth things over. "I'm sure he was also thinking of young Landon! Now that you're back, let's all eat together. It's rare to have a family gathering, though it's still not quite complete."

Luther paused.

Right, Jocelyn was still missing.

But she would be back soon enough.

The man walked over to the head of the dining table and took his seat. Directly to his left sat Joyce. Unfastening the top two buttons of his dress shirt, he murmured, "My wife used to sit in that exact spot."

Joyce's face burned.

His words put her in an incredibly awkward position.

Making her look as though she had thrown herself at him.

With her pride bruised, she immediately stood up and murmured, "Since Mr. Sanford is back, I'll be taking my leave! Happy birthday, Landon."

Landon's eyes instantly welled with tears.

The little boy looked pitifully at his father.

Annie was furious: He used to infuriate Mom to death, and now he was driving her away again?!

Did he even know how to pursue a woman?

His mouth was practically poisonous.

Luther swiftly clamped a hand around the woman's forearm. His dark eyes locked onto hers. His tone was still completely neutral, yet it carried an undeniable edge of sexual tension, even if there was nothing technically wrong with his words. His voice was low and gravelly. "Angry again? Are you really that fragile? Or do you care too much about me? Still bothered by what Diana said the other day?"

Diana...

He deliberately used her first name to sound intimate.

When it came to the romantic battlefield, ten Joyces couldn't hold a candle to Luther—especially when he knew her inside and out. Sure enough, Joyce felt deeply uncomfortable. It wasn't that she liked Luther that much; it was the fact that his every word and action boxed her in, tying her up so securely that she couldn't find the leverage to break free. Death by a thousand paper cuts.

She had no choice but to stay.

Otherwise, it would seem like she really did care too much.

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