133 Chapter 133 The Woman With The Stain
133 Chapter 133 The Woman With The Stain
Blanche’s POV 1
Vincent’s loaded explanation, paired with that devil–may–care smirk, sent everyone’s minds racing down the gutter.
The woman always at his side? She’s probably warming his bed, someone was clearly thinking.
Vincent’s playboy reputation was common knowledge, and knowing glances flew around the room.
Whatever the crowd around Vincent said next had everyone cracking up. I shot Vincent a quick look before turning away.
Thank God I hadn’t fallen for any of his smooth talk. Watching him parade around with another woman would’ve stung like hell right
now.
The little boy in my arms noticed I’d zoned out and gave my sleeve a gentle tug. “Miss?”
I snapped back to reality and flashed him a genuine smile. “Sure thing.”
I scribbled my phone number on a piece of paper and slipped it to him.
The boy grabbed the note, tucked it safely in his pocket, and beamed. “Thanks, Miss.”
A rich, smooth voice cut through the noise behind us. “Dorian, over here.”
I spun around to find a man in wire–rimmed glasses, dressed in a sharp charcoal suit that screamed authority. His precisely styled hair
barely grazed his ears, and those intense brows framed penetrating eyes in a face that could stop traffic.
But his expression was stone–cold professional–like he had a wall built around him that no one was getting through.
The little boy who’d been curled up on my lap immediately slid down when he heard that voice. He tilted his head up at the man and
chirped, “Hey, Daddy.”
The man extended his hand toward the boy, his tone arctic. “Come.”
The boy’s face fell as he reluctantly placed his tiny hand in his father’s, dragging out a defeated, “Okay.”
The entire time, the man didn’t spare me so much as a glance,
But the little boy twisted around as his dad guided him away, flashing me one last smile. “Bye, Miss.”
I waved back. “Bye, sweetie.”
We’d barely met, and I never even learned his name. Still, I couldn’t help but adore that kid–he had such perfect manners.
After watching them disappear, I glanced back to see Zain and Joanna descending from the second floor together.
The moment they appeared, Vincent’s fan club instantly abandoned him to swarm Zain instead, practically tripping over themselves to
kiss his ass.
I ignored the whole pathetic display. I was just turning to grab some food when something slammed into me from behind.
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133 Chapter 133 The Woman With The Stain
Before I could even register what happened, a soft, mortified voice stammered, “Oh God, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to–I’ll pay for your
dress, I promise!”
I turned to face a woman in a powder–blue evening gown that swept the floor. She looked younger than me, maybe mid–twenties.
She was gripping a small plate piled with food swimming in chili oil. The mess had crashed to the floor, and the greasy sauce was
spreading everywhere, still dripping from her plate.
I quickly pieced together that she’d splashed chili oil all over my dress.
Her mortification seemed genuine enough–clearly an accident. I shrugged it off. “Don’t worry about it.”
With that, I left the dining area and headed for the restroom.
In front of the mirror, I craned my neck and spotted the damage–a massive splash of chili oil across my back.
My pristine white dress was ruined, and it looked awful now. I twisted around trying to clean it myself, but couldn’t reach the spot no
matter how I contorted.
Even if I could reach it, there was no way I’d get it out. I gave up.
After washing my hands, I looked up and caught another reflection in the mirror.
Zain lounged against the wall, his eyes fixed on the stain covering my back. His voice was flat when he spoke. “She did that on purpose.”
I straightened up, drying my hands with a paper towel. “I honestly have no idea.”
And I meant it. With that crowd in the banquet hall, there was no way to tell if she’d targeted me intentionally.
Plus, she’d hit me from behind–it wasn’t like I had supernatural peripheral vision.
Zain shifted position, folding his arms as he studied me. “I watched the whole thing. She absolutely did it on purpose. Who’d you piss
off?”
I considered his question for a beat before answering. “If I did piss someone off, it’d probably be someone from your Jacob family.”
Zain held my gaze, his expression deadly serious. “You honestly think the Jacobs would stoop that low?”
I bit back a smile but kept my mouth shut.
Zain might not know how petty his family could get, but I sure as hell did,
But there was no point starting that fight, so I didn’t bother explaining.
I met his stare head–on, unflinching. “It’s the weekend, Monday, let’s hit the registry office and get our marriage certificate sorted. Then
we can move forward with everything else.”
Zain watched me, searching for any crack in my composure, but I kept my expression neutral. He couldn’t resist pushing. “Why the
rush?”
He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming me, his shadow swallowing mine.
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133 Chapter 133 The Woman With The Stain
I tilted my chin up, irritation flashing through me. “What exactly are you after?”
Zain’s mouth curved in a mocking smile. “You seriously think I only last barely any time?”
I shot him a withering look. “I experienced it firsthand. You think I’m lying?”
Zain suddenly cupped my chin, forcing me to meet his intense stare, his voice dripping with challenge. “How about we test that theory
again? Give you a proper demonstration.”
His touch felt way too intimate, and knowing that same hand had been all over Joanna made my skin crawl. I shoved him away hard. “Zain, spare me. Monday, we get the paperwork done, and that’s final.”
I pushed past him and stalked out of the restroom.
When I returned to the main hall, Amara had already come downstairs. She hurried over, looking frazzled. “Where the hell did you
disappear to? I’ve been hunting everywhere for you.”
I gave her a quick smile. “Just freshened up in the bathroom.”
Amara spotted the mess on my back and scowled. “What happened to your dress?”
I forced another smile. “It’s nothing serious. Don’t let it kill the vibe.”
Amara was about to press for details when a group nearby turned to gawk at us, their expressions dripping with judgment.
They weren’t even trying to be subtle–their gossip was loud enough for me and Amara to catch every vicious word.
“Is that the woman who’s been throwing herself at Miss Adams’s father?”
“Yeah, Miss Adams just pointed her out–the one with the oil stain on her back. She goes after married men, wrecks families, and even
when they reject her, she keeps offering herself up for free.”
“Revolting. How does trash like that even get invited to these events?”
“Right? She looks so innocent and refined, but turns out she’s just a manipulative home–wrecker.”
Amara whipped around to face me, bewildered. “Are they talking about you?”
I felt completely lost but nodded slowly. “I think so?”
Amara was ready to march over there and tear into them, but I grabbed her arm and shook my head. “Let’s hear more. I want to see just
how creative their bullshit gets.”
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Ruby Walker is a rising voice in the world of romance and spicy fiction. With a gift for weaving deep emotions, sizzling chemistry, and unexpected twists, her stories are a blend of passion and drama that captivate readers from start to finish. Ruby’s writing style is bold and irresistible—perfect for those who crave intense, addictive love stories.

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