Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 25

The pale pink sheets were her favorite—an exclusive Frette limited edition. On the windowsill sat a rare Diptyque candle, and even the curtains filtered light exactly like those in her villa. The vanity was lined with her tried-and-true skincare products, every bottle and jar from brands she’d trusted for over five years.

“You’ll stay here,” Bennett stood at the threshold where shadow met light, his voice low and even. “I never force anyone into anything.”

Gwyneth’s fingers had just touched the closet handle when Bennett’s voice sounded behind her. “The bathroom’s on the left. Fresh clothes are in the wardrobe.”

She opened the wardrobe door in silence, and her pupils contracted in surprise.

Inside, a row of dresses hung by color, all in the minimalist styles she loved.

Wait—what about the bottom row?

Mechanically, she pulled open the lower cabinet, then slammed it shut.

Her ears burned. There was even lingerie, all in her size—down to the last detail.

“You—” She spun around, only to crash right into a warm, solid chest.

Bennett froze, his breath catching.

Her nose brushed the second button of his shirt, his scent enveloping her.

Too close—so close she could hear his heartbeat pounding out of rhythm.

“S-sorry,” Gwyneth stammered, hastily stepping back, only to bump her shin against the half-open cabinet door. She lost her balance, but Bennett’s hand caught her waist, steady and sure.

“Careful.”

His deep voice brushed past her ear, sending a flush racing to her earlobes. He loomed over her, the soft silk of his shirt slipping open at the collar in the commotion, revealing a delicate lace strap—the same pattern as the ones in the drawer.

Bennett’s gaze lingered there, dangerous and intent, for three long seconds. Then he helped her upright, let go, and stepped back. “There’s a robe in the third drawer.”

As he turned away, Gwyneth caught a glimpse of red creeping up the back of his neck. So even the always-unflappable Bennett could lose his composure over something like this.

Just then, Bennett’s phone lit up with a new message:

[Sophia’s has been cleared out.]

“Get ready,” Bennett said, closing the file. “I’m taking you out for dinner.”

Gwyneth quickly smoothed her collar again. “Alright. You go ahead, I’ll catch up—I need to finish a file.”

Meanwhile, in the backseat of Julian’s black Bentley.

Queenie was straddling Julian’s lap, her lipstick smudged beyond her lip line and leaving a trace on his jaw.

“Found it,” Julian murmured, gripping her chin, his gaze icy behind gold-rimmed glasses. “My brother’s booked out Sophia’s tonight.”

Queenie’s fingers tangled in his hair. “Dinner with that mystery woman?”