The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge novel Chapter 889

"Seriously. That guy's just a waiter. Does he even make a thousand bucks a month? She's the Everhart heiress! There's no way her family is going to let that slide, right?"

"Are you happy now, Connor? Now Leonie has a boyfriend."

The moment Connor saw Leonie being led away by the hand, a freezing chill washed over his entire body, like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on his head.

But even then, he suppressed his true feelings.

He tried to convince himself it was just childish possessiveness. Was she trying to make him jealous with another guy? Pathetic.

It wasn't like he begged her to come to the hospital and take care of him. Women were impossible to figure out.

If she really had a thing for that guy, she could just leave with him.

Connor told himself he didn't care. But the next second, he abruptly stood up and smashed his glass onto the floor.

His friends were absolutely stunned. "Is he finally throwing a tantrum?"

"I'm done drinking. I'm going home to sleep."

These guys had too much free time, completely ruining his mood.

Outside the lounge, Celia was about to have them get into the car when Dorian spoke up. "I've got a ride. I'll take her."

Celia frowned. "Didn't you say you didn't have a car?"

*Liar.*

Dorian replied, "A motorcycle. Doesn't compare to your ride."

He had politely released Leonie's hand as soon as they stepped out. "The guy at table 8—your boyfriend?"

Leonie froze, but didn't dodge the question. "How did you know?"

Dorian tossed his helmet to her. "Put this on."

Because Dorian's sport bike was designed with the front much lower than the back, sitting behind him meant her chest was pressed flush against his back.

Almost all high-end bikes built for passengers had this aggressive stance. Leonie felt her entire body molded to his.

Through the fabric of his shirt, she could feel the blistering heat radiating off his back.

As her arms wrapped around him, she was surprised. He didn't feel lean or fragile like he looked in his uniform. Beneath his clothes, she felt the rigid, corded muscle of someone who spent years training.

If he took his shirt off, Dorian probably had an eight-pack. Chris snorted, "Celia, this guy is a wolf in sheep's clothing.

"You don't see servers riding million-dollar bikes every day. Are we sure this guy is actually a waiter? Did you even background check him?"

Celia, of course, had her own suspicions. Seeing Dorian's high-end motorcycle made her question his whole identity.

People who rode bikes like that usually came from serious money. Was he just another trust-fund kid out roughing it to experience normal life?