Chapter 404
The two men exchanged tense glances before reluctantly sinking back into their seats.
Blood trickled down the face of the man who'd been struck with the champagne bottle. He forced a strained chuckle. "Ah, Ms. Montgomery. Our apologies for any disrespect."
"Isabelle! What in heaven's name are you doing?" Eleanor's voice cut through the club's music as she spotted her brother Julian carrying a barely conscious Eleanor Blackwood.
Dominic's grip tightened around the sleeping woman as he frowned at his sister. "Isabelle, control yourself."
"You're the one who needs controlling!" Isabelle's hands trembled with rage. "Did I ruin your little tryst with that Blackwood tramp?"
The other club patrons held their breath, including the injured man who now dabbed at his bleeding temple with a monogrammed handkerchief.
"I've told you repeatedly," Julian's voice dropped to a dangerous octave. "You don't come to Velvet without my knowledge. This isn't some playground, Isabelle."
His sister scoffed, jabbing a manicured finger toward his face. "Spare me the protective brother act! You're just furious I caught you with Nathan's sister!"
The temperature in the VIP section seemed to drop several degrees when Julian uttered through clenched teeth: "Isabelle Montgomery."
A shiver ran down Isabelle's spine. In twenty-three years, her brother had never once used her full name.
"Leave. Now." Each word carried the weight of a judge's gavel.
"Not without you!" Isabelle crossed her arms defiantly.
Julian adjusted Eleanor's sleeping form against his chest. "I have responsibilities tonight. Go home."
"You're actually going to—" Isabelle's screech made several patrons wince.
"Natalia!"
The statuesque bodyguard materialized instantly. "Sir?"
"Escort my sister home."
Natalia moved with military precision, her iron grip closing around Isabelle's slender wrist.
"Unhand me! How dare you touch—OW! You're hurting me!" Isabelle's protests faded as she was unceremoniously dragged through the club's velvet curtains.
Meanwhile, Evelyn Carter lounged in her penthouse suite's sunken marble tub, surrounded by floating gardenia petals. The scent of bergamot candles mingled with steam rising from the milky water.
"Divine," she sighed, wiggling her toes as the heated jets massaged her shoulders. Her phone's vibration sent ripples across the water's surface.
Theodore's name flashed on the screen. "If this is about the Westridge files, darling, let's discuss it over breakfast."
"Ms. Carter," Theodore's voice held uncharacteristic tension. "There's something you should know. But please remain calm."
Evelyn flicked a petal with her fingernail. "Theodore, I survived three boardroom coups before thirty. Try me."
A weighted pause. Then: "Julian Montgomery just carried Eleanor Blackwood into the Grand Monarch. They took the private elevator to the penthouse suites."
The gardenia-scented water sloshed violently as Evelyn shot upright. "Say that again."
"Julian and Eleanor. Together. I saw the registration myself."
Evelyn's breathing shallowed. The bathroom mirrors fogged with the heat of her rage.
Then the walls shook with her roar: "WHERE'S MY EMERALD CUTTER? I'LL CARVE THAT TRAITOROUS BASTARD INTO MINIATURE PORTRAITS!"