Chapter 351 Pills And Pretense

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    Moonlight seeped through the half–drawn curtains, painting thin silver bars across the narrow sickroom. Julius sat upright on the edge of the bed, voice as calm as a still pond. “Why would I throw my life away? The moment your wounds knit. I’m getting you off this ind. Trust me, I intend to stay very much alive.”

    Quinn’s brows drew tight. “Then why swallow so many pills? Thebel is clear–no more than five at a time!”

    Julius shoulders lifted in a barely there shrug. “Five are useless to me. If I’m taking them at all, it’s because I need the kind of sleep they promise.”

    Her concern slipped out before she could cage it. “The insomnia still hasn’t eased? Did you at least see ba /bphysician when you flew home?”

    He nodded once, gaze sliding up to meet hers. “Of course I did. New prescriptions, same old nights.” A faint, crooked smile ghosted across his mouth. “What is it–are you worried about me?”

    Quinn pressed her lips together, the answer caught behind her teeth.

    “No need to worry. My body’s built a tolerance; a higher dose only brings me down to ordinary. I’ll be perfectly fine.” With that, he tilted his head, ready to toss the tablets back.

    Quinn caught his wrist mid–arc. “If you held my hand at night, would you fall asleep without any of this?”

    His eyes flickered, dark and unreadable. “Are you sympathizing with me? If I say yes, will you lie beside me tonight–hand in mine–because you feel sorry for me?”

    She hesitated, a single breath stretching long enough to form an answer she never spoke.

    Julius broke the silence first. “And could you keep that sympathy burning forever?”

    Quinn blinked, thrown off bnce. “What are you saying?”

    He exhaled, words sliding out t and final. “If you can’t keep sympathizing with me, when you leave the ind, I’ll will have to take the pills. Whether I skip them for a handful of nights or swallow them for a handful morei–/iwhat difference does it make?“)

    He pried her fingers loose, tipped the tablets past his lips, and washed them down in one practiced gulp.

    Quirin turned iaway/i. He thought distance would case the tension between them, yet watching him choke down medicine like water only pressed heavier on her heart.

    bIn /ba private room of a club, someone lifted a crystal flute andughed “Ms. Wentworth, you look positively stormy taught. Who rained on your paraste?

    “Come on, Laura–you justnded a new project. That contract is prime steak and you carved the first slice. Celebrate!”

    Laura swept her gaze over the circle of well–heeled socialites–Jesburgh’s legendary patrons who wore wealth the way others wore perfume

    Breaking into this clique had once taken her every ounce of strategy, and although their chatter bored her

    751

    09:59 Mon, Sept

    Chapter 351 Pills And Pretense

    now, business required alliances. Clients first, preferences second.

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    “True enough.” She raised her ss. “Fresh contract on the table, and I’ll need all of you to keep mypany in mind. Tonight’s tab is on me. Drink up.”

    A woman in sequins leaned forward, lips curling with mischief. “That’s the spirit. By the way, I hear the club just recruited a batch of neers. Care to browse the menuter?”

    Their so–called “neers” were, of course, the club’s fresh–faced male models.

    On any other evening. Laura might have weed the distraction. Tonight, the thought grated.

    Quinn was somewhere on an Ind, fate in Julius‘ hands. Yes, the girl had phoned, insisting all was well.

    But how could Laura rx? A man who could spirit someone away as cleanly as a kidnapping was capable of almost anything.

    Laura’s worry for her friend tugged at her heart, yet she reminded herself that the evening was not only about loyalty. The fragile webs of influence she had spun over the years still demanded careful tending tonight.

    “Fine,” Laura said, her voice light but guarded. “Let’s see what you’ve arranged for us tonight.”

    Momentster, the door slid open and a line of well–dressed young men filed in, each carrying the easy confidence of someone paid to be admired. Laura’s gaze caught on one of them. Her breath snagged, and before she could stop herself, a quiet “Hmm?” slipped from her lips, equal parts wonder and disbelief.

    “What’s wrong, Ms. Wentworth? You took a liking in this one?” someone said. “Come, now. Sit beside Ms. Wentworth and tell her your name.”

    Color rose bin /bthe young man’s cheeks, but he obeyed, sliding onto the velvet banquette beside her. “I’m Harvey Cole,” he murmured, voice polite yet shaky. “Good evening, Ms. Wentworthdies.”

    Harvey. The man who saved me all those years ago shares ia /isimr name. iIs /iiit /iireally /iihim/i–the stranger who helped

    “Look at her bMaring/b–she must really fancy Harvey. Harvey, stop dawdling and offer her a toast!” someone joked, the room erupting in easyughter.

    Flustered, Harvey scrambled for the boule, filled a slender crystal ss, and held it out to her with both hands.

    At bthat /bsame moment, Weston was passing the corridor outside the lounge, surrounded by a small circle of

    associates

    “Hey, Mr. Windore, I think your girlfriend’s in that room one of then remarked, cocking his head toward the half–open door.

    Weston paused mid–step, a muscle tightening along his jaw. Through the narrow gap, he caught what was

    going on inside.

    ?