The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 552

With everyone teasing her, Gwyneth could only smile shyly, relieved that none of them tried prying into whatever was—or wasn’t—going on between her and Hawthorne. She let out a quiet sigh, grateful she didn’t have to waste her breath on explanations nobody would believe anyway. As if anyone would really buy that she and Hawthorne were nothing but a walking disaster together.

After a few glasses of wine, Gwyneth felt her head start to spin. She rarely drank—her godfathers and mentors had always treated her like a precious gem, warning her about the dangers of the world. “You can be wild, you can be bold,” they’d said, “but never let your guard down with alcohol. No matter how tough you think you are, it only takes one careless moment for someone to take advantage.”

It was only because they’d mentioned Hans was coming to pick her up that she’d allowed herself a drink. Even then, her tolerance was embarrassingly low.

She left the restroom, her steps unsteady, as though she were walking on clouds. Her head was fuzzy, and the world tilted a little as she made her way down the hall toward their booth.

“Gwyn?”

She’d barely taken a few steps when, out of nowhere, a strong arm snaked around her waist, pulling her into a man’s chest.

A heavy cloud of cologne hit her nose, making her eyes sting with tears. When she finally got a good look at who it was, she shoved him away immediately.

“Bill Crawford?”

Of course it was him. No matter how many times she’d blocked his numbers, Bill had a way of popping up like a bad penny. Running into him here of all places—what were the odds?

“You’ve been drinking?” Bill frowned, his gaze lingering on the rosy flush across Gwyneth’s cheeks. The dim golden light only made her look more alluring.

Seeing Bill made Gwyneth tense up. The relentless calls over the past couple of weeks had left her on edge. She knew all about his reputation—Greenvale’s notorious playboy, never lacking in female company. Why he’d latched onto her, of all people, was anyone’s guess.

“My coworkers are waiting for me. I should get back.”

All she wanted was to put as much space between them as possible.

The words were barely out of his mouth when Gwyneth slapped him, hard, across the face. His eyes darkened instantly, a storm brewing beneath the surface.

“Not enough? Fine. Ten grand.”

The slap had sobered her up completely. She raised her hand for another, but this time Bill caught her wrist midair.

“My patience isn’t endless, Gwyneth. Opportunities like this don’t come around every day. Don’t make me change my mind.”

“You’re delusional, Bill. I slapped you because you’re arrogant, and I won’t get back together with you because I simply don’t want you. You know what? You’re right—I do like Hawthorne. If he’s not interested in women, I’ll just have to change his mind.

If you really think, between you and him, I’d ever pick you… maybe take a long, hard look in the mirror. It’s not that I’m not good enough for your ten grand a month. It’s that I’d never want it from you. This is the end of the line, Bill.”