Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 158

“Mr. Boyd,” she paused, her voice clear and steady.

“You certainly have quite a bit of charm.”

On the surface, her words merely stated the obvious—how Queenie had been openly flirting just moments ago. But beneath the calm delivery, there was a hint of something else. A subtle probe.

Bennett’s hand stilled as he flipped through his files. Slowly, he looked up, meeting Gwyneth’s eyes with a gaze as sharp and penetrating as a searchlight, locking onto her without wavering.

He didn’t reply right away. Instead, he simply watched her in silence, an amused glint playing in his eyes, as if he could see straight through her.

Setting the folder aside, he leaned back in his chair, his posture relaxed yet somehow exuding an unmistakable pressure. He folded his long fingers together, idly tapping his fingertips against each other.

“Oh?” Bennett’s voice rose at the end, smooth and edged with a dangerous kind of magnetism. “Are you referring to that little ‘gnat’ from earlier, Gwyneth?”

He deliberately chose the most dismissive term, his gaze never leaving her face, intent on catching any flicker of emotion.

“That sort of…” A faint, almost predatory smile curved his lips as he lowered his voice, lacing it with a meaning only the two of them would understand.

“Do you really think she’s worthy of my attention?”

What he said next landed with the weight of a stone tossed into a still lake, sending shockwaves rippling through Gwyneth’s heart.

Bennett held her gaze, his eyes steady and unflinching, heavy with a seriousness and possessiveness impossible to mistake. He enunciated every word, slow and deliberate:

“I am a married man.”

‘Married man’—he pronounced the words with unusual clarity and gravity, as if reciting an oath that could not be broken.

This was more than just a statement of fact. It was a declaration of identity and intent, both to her and to himself.

Bennett belonged to someone now.

Any other ambitions or desires aimed at him were futile—an affront, even.

The blunt force of that claim made Gwyneth’s heart skip a beat. A strange warmth surged from her chest to her cheeks; she could feel her ears burning.

She instinctively lowered her gaze, hiding the flicker of panic—and something else, something secret—in her eyes. Her fingers curled involuntarily.

“Ahem… Ahem!” She managed a couple of hurried coughs, desperate to mask her embarrassment, forcing herself to cool the flush from her face. She tried to steer the conversation away from his disarmingly personal declaration.

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