Never Forgive Never Forget (Celeste and Philip) novel Chapter 137

The party was over.

Beverly clutched the hotel key card tightly in her hand as she unlocked the door to the room she'd booked.

But the man sitting inside wasn't Jasper.

It was the middle-aged man who'd handed her the key card earlier.

He lounged in a bathrobe, a cigar clamped between his teeth, his flabby stomach spilling out from beneath the terrycloth. He watched Beverly approach with an ugly satisfaction.

"So, what is it you want?" he drawled.

Beverly froze. "Why are you here? Didn't Jasper ask you to give me this key card? How—?"

Before she could finish, the man got up and strode towards her. He seized her wrist, flinging her against the wall and leaning in, his breath hot and close.

"Jasper? You mean the Hopkins family's golden boy?" He sneered. "With that pretty face of yours, did you really think you could warm his bed just like that?"

He grinned, teeth yellow in the dim light. "Why not stay with me tonight and show me a good time? Whatever Jasper can offer, I can give you too."

With that, he lunged for her lips.

"Don't touch me!" Beverly shrieked, panic rising in her chest. She wrenched her arm free, scrambling for the door, but the man's patience snapped. He grabbed her by the waist and hurled her into the suite's living room. She landed hard on the plush carpet, her eyes wide as she watched him advance.

"I—I'm Beverly from Duncan Group! If you dare lay a hand on me, I swear—"

He cut her off with a laugh, cold and dismissive. "I'm a major guest at the Hopkins' private party. You're just a nobody who forced her way in. Why should I be afraid of you? Better stop pretending and give in already…"

He lunged at her.

The sound of tearing fabric was shockingly loud.

Beverly screamed, kicking and clawing, until her hands closed around a heavy glass ashtray. She swung with all her strength, smashing it into the man's head. As he howled in pain, she bolted from the room, stumbling into the hallway—where she crashed right into someone's chest.

"Get away from me—Jasper?!"

Beverly stared at the man in front of her. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she clung desperately to his shirt. "Jasper, please—I'm so scared, and so cold. Take me away from here, please?"

Jasper froze, taking in her disheveled state. He was about to call for his bodyguards to escort her out, but Beverly caught the flash of disgust in his eyes. Behind her, the middle-aged man's angry shouts echoed down the hallway—powerful enough to ruin her for good if she didn't act fast.

She knew if she let this chance slip, she'd be doomed.

Gritting her teeth, Beverly pressed herself into Jasper's arms, sobbing so pitifully that any bystander would be moved.

"Good night."

Mack didn't wait for a reply. He summoned security to keep the two at a distance.

Philip watched Celeste's retreating figure with a forlorn expression. She's Alfred's mistress now, he thought. There's no room left for me…

The three of them got into the car. Celeste gently lowered Alfred from her shoulder, buckled his seatbelt, and headed back to Moonwater Grove.

At the penthouse—

Celeste tried to help Alfred to his own apartment, but the drunken man mistook her door for his and refused to leave, eyes glazed, one hand clamped tightly on her doorknob.

Celeste hesitated.

Mack hurried to explain, "This place used to be Mr. Alfred's property too. He's probably just used to coming here. When he's drunk, none of us can get close, he's that strong… Maybe you could let him stay here for a bit?"

It was obvious Alfred could handle himself.

Every time his powerful arm wrapped around her waist, the strength in him was undeniable. Celeste couldn't help but feel oddly safe, even now.