The Unwavering Heart That Broke novel Chapter 70

Nathalie brushed his hand aside and went right back to her question. “Who are you putting on the blacklist?”

Lance looked at her, his smile fading. “It’s pretty late,” he said quietly.

Nathalie just rolled her eyes and turned to the owner. “So you’re blacklisting me now, huh?”

The owner didn't even try to meet her gaze. With the way he was dodging her eyes, it was obvious what was going on.

Nathalie let out a mocking laugh, arms crossed over her chest. “What, like your place is the only spot in all of Cabinda for a foot massage?”

She spun on her heel and strode out.

Damaris was off to the side, gaping in shock. “Unbelievable. You really are the worst, you know that? You get to fool around with Felice, flirting and acting all cozy, but Nathalie can’t even come here for a massage to relax?”

Lance’s eyes turned cold, like all the warmth had been sucked away. “You saw me flirting with her? Really?”

Damaris shot back, not missing a beat. “Come on, everyone’s talking about it. I don’t need to see it myself. For once, could you try acting like a halfway decent human being? If you’re into Felice so much, go be with her. Stop dragging Nathalie into your mess.”

Lance’s voice dropped, sounding dangerous. “So you didn’t actually see anything, but you keep running your mouth anyway? Guess you haven’t learned your lesson from last time.”

Damaris fumed, cheeks flushing with anger. She glared at him. “Big shot, huh? Too bad your own wife wants nothing to do with you!”

With that, she stalked off.

Bagot, who’d been standing nearby, couldn’t help muttering, “She’s got guts. I’d never even dare talk to you like that.”

Lance turned a chill look on him. “You want to try?”

Bagot waved his hands, shrinking back. “No, no, that’s not it at all. You misunderstood.”

Lance didn’t say another word. He strode out of the club, cold and silent.

When he stepped outside, Nathalie was already gone. There wasn’t even a trace of her left.

Damaris nudged her. “Well, call him now. Don’t let him jump through hoops for no reason.”

So much had happened, one thing after another, that Nathalie had forgotten she’d even asked Fabian to help with the divorce.

She hurried to dial his number.

His warm voice answered right away, almost laughing. “I was just about to call you, and here you are. Are we telepathic or what?”

Nathalie pushed her hair behind her ear. “Guess so. There’s something I have to tell you. I…”

Fabian cut in. “Let’s talk in person. I’ll text you an address. Meet me there?”

Nathalie hesitated for a second, then agreed. “Alright, I’ll be there soon.”

A moment later, a message buzzed. It was the address—an upscale private club, a place for drinks and karaoke, the kind of spot people go to unwind with friends.