The Billionaire’s Secret Quartet (Thalassa and Elowen) novel Chapter 933

Susan kept a harmless smile plastered on her face as she placated the men.

"There we go, that's more like it." The men were comforted by Susan’s words.

"Why don't you guys figure it out?" suggested Susan.

The three men looked at each other, each one eager to be the first to step up.

Seeing them distracted, Susan eyed the exit, made a beeline for the door, flung it open, and dashed out.

"Stop her!"

The realization hit the men like a ton of bricks; they had been duped. They scrambled after her, but it was too late. Susan had sprinted out of the private booth and was now weaving through the crowded club.

With so many witnesses, the men couldn't just drag Susan away without causing a scene.

Susan took refuge on the dance floor, a mass of gyrating bodies providing cover. When she was sure she wasn't being followed, she let out a sigh of relief. Thoughts of Lysander's coldness and the men's words gnawed at her. Lysander only had eyes for high-class women!

And there she was, not making the cut, invisible to Lysander.

A bitter twist of anger coiled in Susan's heart. How was she any less than Thalassa?

Thalassa, who grew up in some backwater town, exuded nothing but a bumpkin aura. High class? Hardly.

In contrast, Susan had been groomed in the arts of dance and piano, her upbringing a veritable fortress built of cash and high expectations.

High society gatherings, designer brands—what hadn't she seen?

Her world was poles apart from Thalassa's. While Thalassa played in the mud, Susan had been mastering the arts.

"Why don't we sit over there and talk?" Callum gestured toward a nearby bench by a flowerbed. It was safer than the roadside.

Thalassa recalled the last time Callum sought her out, and it was indeed for a reason. This time around, it likely wouldn’t be for mere small talk.

Thalassa walked over to the bench, with Callum following.

They took seats on the bench, with a respectful gap between them.

"Did you have something to discuss with me?" Thalassa asked.

A soft smile graced Callum's lips—not a genuine expression of mirth, but rather the natural extension of his affable personality.

"You're catching on," Callum observed. "You're starting to understand Leopold's intentions."