The Billionaire’s Secret Quartet (Thalassa and Elowen) novel Chapter 1115

Bruce's pride was deflated like a popped balloon, his face flushed with the shame of public embarrassment. His heart raced with panic as he shot Lucy a glare that could kill. If only Lysander would just get rid of her, he could wash his hands of this mess.

Lysander's gaze shifted to his entourage of bodyguards. "Help her out!" he commanded.

The bodyguards, each a towering figure of muscle and brawn, began to move. These weren't just any hired guns; they were trained fighters. If they laid their hands on Lucy, her pretty face might not stay so pretty.

Lucy's legs turned to jelly, and she stumbled back a step, her voice quivering with fear. "I…I'll do it, Mr. Sinclair. Please, I’ll handle it myself."

The bodyguards paused, allowing her the space. Lucy, fighting back tears, raised her hands and slapped herself across the cheeks. "It's all my fault, I deserve this for speaking out of turn!"

"That's not nearly enough!" Lysander's voice was icy, gripping the room with its authority.

Lucy's heart skipped a beat. Clenching her teeth, she slapped herself again, harder this time. "I deserve it, I do! I'll never speak out of turn again!"

The slaps resounded with a sharp 'smack, smack,' her cheeks burning from the force she used. She had to make it convincing, fearful that Lysander would demand more if he wasn't satisfied.

Her cheeks stung painfully, her head buzzed, and a ringing echoed in her ears. She was relentless in her self-punishment.

All the while, she acknowledged her mistake, hoping to quell Lysander's anger.

Bruce watched from the sidelines with cold approval, thinking she got what she deserved.

After the self-inflicted punishment, Lucy looked up at Lysander with panic in her eyes, trying to gauge if he was appeased.

Lysander's expression remained intense, but his piercing gaze now turned to Thalassa. "Are you satisfied?"

Bruce, however, didn't even spare her a look, nonchalantly sitting down with a fake smile, feigning admiration. "Mr. Sinclair, your decisiveness is admirable. I'm much more at ease knowing you're watching out for Thalassa."

Upon hearing Bruce's insincere words, Thalassa shot him an angry look.

Lysander's hand rested casually on the table, but the veins on his hand stood out, his eyes cold as daggers when he looked at Bruce.

"Mr. Sinclair, your juice is ready," cooed a voice, artificially sweet.

The waitress approached, placing the juice in front of Lysander with eyes that openly flirted.

Thalassa's elegant brows furrowed in disapproval as she recognized the so-called waitress – it was Susan!