Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 282

Clinton couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting back to Gwyneth, drinking in every flawless curve and elegant feature. The sight of her made his heart skip more than a few beats.

She was the kind of woman who seemed to have it all—talent, wealth, beauty—a rare gem that existed only in stories.

The small sense of superiority Clinton usually felt thanks to his good looks and his role as swim team captain evaporated instantly in her presence. Standing before Gwyneth, he felt insignificant, almost ordinary.

But along with that humility came a fierce desire—an urge to get closer, maybe even conquer her, burning inside him like wildfire. If he could get involved with a woman like her… even if it was just a rumor, or if he could earn her favor in some way… it would be a springboard for his future, the kind of boost most people could only dream about.

His gaze grew hotter, his movements in warm-up became more deliberate. He flexed and stretched, showing off the toned muscles sculpted by years of training, all in hopes of catching Gwyneth’s eye.

The entire swim team felt the shift in the air. Gwyneth’s arrival—and the sudden realization of who she was—had set the place abuzz with a strange, restless energy. Everyone’s warm-up turned half-hearted, their attention inevitably drawn to the striking woman toweling off her hair, seemingly oblivious to the commotion she caused.

Elodie watched the whole scene unfold, especially noticing the way Clinton’s eyes changed in an instant. She smirked and nudged Gwyneth with her elbow, lowering her voice in teasing:

“Hey, Gwyneth, take a look. That good-looking team captain over there? He can’t take his eyes off you. Seriously, you’re lethal to younger guys.”

Gwyneth followed Elodie’s gaze and, sure enough, met Clinton’s open, hungry stare—bold, almost predatory in its intensity.

She simply looked away, face expressionless, continuing to dry her hair as if nothing had happened. Her voice was flat, almost bored.

“Oh.”

Elodie grinned, leaning in to whisper with a laugh, “You’re something else, Gwyneth. That self-control is unreal.”

Gwyneth didn’t respond. She lay back on her chair, closed her eyes, and decided to rest before her next swim.

But clearly, someone had other plans.

Clinton, unable to resist any longer, watched Gwyneth’s relaxed yet breathtaking profile. He composed himself, pasted on his brightest, most charming smile, and strode confidently toward her chair.

He stopped beside her, bent slightly at the waist, and spoke in a deliberately smooth, deep voice.

“Excuse me. Sorry to bother you, but… Are you Nimbus?”

Gwyneth cracked one eye open, shooting him a cool, indifferent glance that held a hint of annoyance, as if he were just another unimportant stranger. She shut her eyes again, barely moving her lips as she answered with a single, dismissive syllable.

“Yeah.”

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