Chapter 366 Faint Red Marks

    Chapter 366 Faint Red Marks

    Han’s fingers tightened around his fork.

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    Just then, the waiters arrived, setting dish after fragrant dish between them, the aroma masking–if only briefly–the tension that had begun to coil over the table.

    The three of them ate, and between bites, they pieced together the weeks Quinn had spent away on Whitethorn Ind, trading rumors of everything that had erupted back in Jexburgh. Yet neither Han nor Laura so much as brushed the subject of Julius; the omission hung between them like an unspoken pact.

    “I’m told the Stonehurst main branch and their second branch have torn each other ito /ishreds,” Laura began, eyes glittering with the thrill of gossip. “Trent Grafton has filed suit, using Sidonie Stonehurst of conspiring to defraud him and bleed Grafton Technologies dry. She’s been knocking on everyw firm in Jexburgh, but not a single attorney will touch the case.”

    The reason was obvious, and Laura’s nce toward Han made it iner still.

    In a city where the Windore family’s influence could still tilt the scales of justice, nowyer dared cross Han’s cousins.

    “And to think we once believed Trent was head over heels for Sidonie.” Laura scoffed, rolling her eyes.

    “Look at them now. What a mess.”

    Quinn kept her expression mild, the names Trent and Sidonie stirring no more than a faint ripple across a pond long since frozen over.

    Halfway through the meal, Quinn excused herself and slipped into thedies‘ room. Cool fluorescent light sharpened her reflection as she braced her palms on the marble sink. Her gaze drifted to her neck, where a small crimson bloom peeked just above the cor.

    The imprint was unmistakable–a souvenir Julius had branded beneathst night’s feverish kisses.

    Memory surged–the weight of him pinning her to cool sheets, his mouth tracing fire down her skin. She bit her lower lip, heat wing at her chest.

    If her throat was marked, the rest of her body was surely a constetion of simr smudges.

    Han hadn’t mentioned a thing over lunch–either he hadn’t noticed, or politeness kept him. silent.

    Still, a scarlet brand on a woman’s neck invited questions she had no intention of answering.

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    She tugged free the stic band, letting her ponytail copse into a waterfall of chestnut waves that curtained the mark from view.

    On her way back to the private lounge, Quinn halted. A cluster of well–dressed patrons. streamed through the revolving doors. Among them strode Leander, tall, cool, and impossible

    to mistake.

    “Mr. Fane,” Quinn called, closing the distance in quick strides. “Hello, there’s something I need to discuss with you. Could we speak in private?”

    “Well, look who we’ve bumped into again.” Serena sneered, slipping between Quinn and her brother. “What’s the game this time–another long–lost–rtive reunion act? Or are you simply hoping totch onto the Fane name?”

    Quinn ignored the barbed remarks and kept her gaze locked on Leander. “Just a minute of your time, alone,” she said quietly.

    “All right,” Leander agreed after studying her face.

    “What could you possibly need to discuss with her?” Serena snapped. “I won’t allow it.”

    “She did take a bullet for me back in Doria,” Leander reminded her, voice mild but unyielding. “Basic decency says I should at least hear her out.”

    Serena huffed, then leaned close enough for her whisper to graze his ear. “Do what you want, but if you defy me, the woman lying in that hospital bed won’t get the help only I can provide.”

    Color drained from Leander’s face as the threatnded.

    Lena was the axis on which his world still turned. Had she not shielded him back then, he would never have been alive today.

    “I’m sorryi, /iMs. Bridger,” Leander said atst. “I’m afraid I can’t spare the time today.”

    “So this is how the illustrious Fane family repays a debt?” Han’s voice rang out from behind Quinn.

    Quinn turned ito /iisee /iHan approaching.

    “I thought you were staying inside. Why did youe out here?”

    Han eyed Serena, a mocking smile curling on his lips. “I noticed you still hadn’t returned to the lounge, so I stepped out to check on you. Serena, do you recall what happened in Doria? When you were kidnapped, Quinnie and I flew all the way there to bring you home. My sister even caught a bullet for the Fane family and spent an entire day unconscious. Yet tonight that

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    Chapter 366 Faint Red Marks

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    same family won’t allow her a private word with Leander. Remarkable sense of gratitude. If memory serves, the main branch of your house has no daughter. You, Serena, belong to the coteral line, yet you decide who may or may not speak to Mr. Fane. Truly eye–opening. Perhaps I should ask Mr. Everett Fer if this is standard Fane family etiquette.”

    Serena’s smile cracked; it felt as though a hammer had struck the mask she wore.

    Han’s words branded her with a single, ugly usation–ungrateful.

    She still had no idea who Han really was, yet anyone who had slipped through those Dorian gs unannounced could not be ordinary.

    If this scene reached Everett’s ears, her future would shatter like thin ss.

    The Fane family was courting a fragile partnership with the Whitethorn family; one blot of bad press could sink the deal.

    At the thought of the Whitethorns, Serena’s gaze flicked to Quinn, uncertainty pooling in her

    eyes.

    Back in Doria, Julius had seemed unusually close to this woman.

    Noticing the guests looking their way, attracted by themotion, Serena quickly said, “Leander, since she insists on talking, go ahead. I’ll wait for you in the lounge.”