CHAPTER 873: CHAPTER 873 SILENT DARE

Xavier tensed—he wanted to protect Hera, to keep Alexandre at a distance—but if Hera had already made a choice, he wouldn’t contradict her. He knew her well enough by now: Hera was kind, sometimes too kind, and all of them had gotten close to her by tugging on that soft spot in her heart.

Athena, watching the scene unfold, arched a brow and smirked. Hera, catching her best friend’s knowing look, immediately avoided her gaze. She could practically hear Athena’s teasing words forming already and wasn’t ready to face them just yet.

Dinner finally began, and even Antoine joined their table, quickly falling into easy conversation with Athena and Liz. Minerva, on the other hand, pretended to take aesthetic photos of the food but was secretly capturing shots of Hera flanked by Xavier and Alexandre, who, unbeknownst to each other, seemed locked in a silent battle of who could put more food on Hera’s plate. One after another, the two kept piling food onto Hera’s plate, until it looked like she was preparing for a week-long feast.

Hera didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She had, after all, invited the trouble to her own doorstep. Letting Alexandre join was meant to be a friendly gesture—an opportunity to ease the tension and maybe even talk about a potential collaboration.

With her plans to launch her brand in Paris, working with someone as influential as Alexandre Arnault seemed like the perfect stepping stone to gaining international traction. His sway in France’s economy and the global luxury goods market made him a valuable ally—or rival. A friendly partnership could soften her brand’s entry into the competitive Parisian market and help avoid unnecessary targeting.

Well... maybe she had been swayed a little by his handsome appearance. And that was exactly why Xavier and the others were so wary of Alexandre. They knew Hera had a weakness for attractive men—and unfortunately, Alexandre was practically her type in person.

Sensing where his thoughts were heading, Xavier didn’t let himself linger in jealousy. Instead, he smoothly changed the subject. "Didn’t you have a race tomorrow?" he asked, placing a perfectly peeled shrimp onto her plate. "When does it start, and where? Do you need to head over tonight to get enough rest?"

Hera shook her head. "No need. I have a ride scheduled for 7 a.m. tomorrow—it’ll pick me up directly from the hotel and take me to the venue. The race starts at 10, so I’ll still have time to rest. The location is Circuit des 24 Heures du Mans—"

Before she could finish, Antoine suddenly shot up from his seat, shock written all over his face.

"You race? At the Circuit des 24 Heures du Mans?" Antoine exclaimed, his eyes wide as he looked between Hera and the others. "Isn’t that the one where you drive for 24 hours straight? Do you have a backup driver so you can take a shift and rest after?"

Hera tilted her head slightly, popped a shrimp into her mouth, and replied casually, "Well, yes, it’s that famous 24-hour endurance race known around the world, and it’s usually a team effort. My team has already gone ahead to inspect the venue and get familiar with the track. They’re training and mentally prepping on-site."

She paused to wipe her fingers before continuing, "But this year, the format’s changed a bit. The venue’s still Le Mans, but the organizers scrapped the 24-hour format in favor of a regular race, just two laps. The track’s already long, so it’s still a serious challenge. The goal is to break the current lap record set by France’s top racing rep. That’s why they made the switch—it’s all about speed this time, not endurance."

She smiled a little, knowing full well how prestigious the location was. The Le Mans circuit was traditionally reserved for tests of endurance and mental stamina, pushing racers to their limits over a full day of high-speed intensity.

"Whoa! I don’t know what surprises me more—that you’re a racer or that the Circuit des 24 Heures du Mans is hosting a regular race!" Antoine said, staring at Hera in disbelief. Like most men, he had a soft spot for racing, and of course, he knew the legendary Le Mans circuit.

"But wait," he continued, brows furrowing in concern, "from Paris to Le Mans, that’s at least a two to three-hour drive—maybe more with traffic. And since it’s race day, there’s bound to be heavy congestion. People are probably already setting up camp nearby to avoid getting stuck in the rush tomorrow..."

His voice trailed off as he looked at Hera, now visibly more anxious than anyone else at the table. "And you’re leaving at 7 a.m. for a 10 a.m. race? Are you sure that’s enough time?"

But Hera only gave him a calm, reassuring smile. Everything had already been taken into account—traffic, timing, and contingencies. Her team had it all covered.

"If you want, I can arrange for my helicopter to take you straight there," Alexandre said in a low voice as he leaned close to Hera’s ear. His warm breath brushed her skin, making her shiver slightly.

Xavier noticed. He saw Hera’s ears turn a deep shade of red and immediately realized Alexandre’s tactic—he was flirting, and worse, it was working.

Not to be outdone, Xavier reached for Hera’s hand under the table. He pulled it gently toward him, placing it boldly on his thigh. His eyes never left Alexandre’s, daring him. Alexandre’s gaze flicked down, catching the movement. He clearly saw what Xavier was doing.

Hera stiffened, her eyes going wide in shock. She turned to Xavier, mouth slightly open, completely speechless. Xavier, however, just smiled at her with a mischievous glint in his ruby-red eyes, the very picture of calm provocation.

Who said only women could act coquettishly? Xavier was clearly a natural.

Xavier gave Hera a slow, coquettish smile as he guided her hand from his thigh downward, until it brushed over his most sensitive spot. At the contact, a sharp breath escaped him—quiet but telling—yet his eyes never left Hera’s, glinting with mischief.

His peripheral vision, however, was focused entirely on Alexandre.

Alexandre’s face blanched, his jaw tightening as he took in the scene before him. He watched, rigidly and silently, as Xavier—unapologetically and deliberately—used Hera’s hand to pleasure himself, all while holding Alexandre’s gaze like a silent dare.

The others at the table had no idea what was really happening. To them, it seemed like a silent standoff—Xavier subtly taunting, Alexandre barely holding onto his composure in front of Hera. None of them suspected that beneath the table, Xavier was doing something far bolder... something none of them could have imagined.

Hera’s head turned slowly, almost like rusted gears grinding into motion, and the moment her eyes met Alexandre’s, she wished she hadn’t looked. His gaze was locked—unwavering—on her hand beneath the table, where it now moved over Xavier’s hardened cock. He didn’t blink, didn’t flinch; he just stared, and Hera could feel Xavier’s breath hitching beside her.

Heat surged up her neck. Mortified, she wanted nothing more than to crawl under the table and disappear. Yet, buried deep beneath the embarrassment, an undeniable thrill tingled through her. These male leads... one was more daring than the next. She used to think only Luke had a taste for public mischief—at least, that’s what the novel implied. But apparently, the quiet Xavier had a wicked streak of his own.