Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 284

The moment Bennett stepped into the main hall of the pool, every head seemed to swivel in his direction. It was instantaneous—he drew the eyes of everyone in the room.

“Whoa, who is that guy? He’s gorgeous!”

“Look at that body… Is he a model? Or an actor? How have I never seen him before?”

“Talk about testosterone—he’s all man!”

“Wait… is he—he’s walking right towards that pretty girl, isn’t he?”

The whispers and awestruck stares rolled over Bennett like a tidal wave, but he seemed utterly oblivious. His gaze found Gwyneth, lounging on a deck chair, and with unhurried confidence, he strode straight toward her.

Elodie, who’d been watching the scene unfold from nearby, was the first to clock the arrival of this “Greek god.” Her eyes went wide as saucers, and she jabbed her elbow sharply into Gwyneth’s side—the latter was pretending to nap with her eyes closed. Elodie leaned in, voice low and brimming with gleeful mischief:

“Hey, hey! Gwyneth! Wake up! Quit sleeping—your husband’s here to catch you red-handed!”

Startled by the jab, Gwyneth jerked upright, pulling off her sunglasses with a glare. “What are you babbling about—”

She didn’t even finish her sentence. Her eyes followed the direction of Elodie’s pointing finger, and then she saw him.

The man walking toward her had a physique that could only be described as unfairly perfect. For a second, Gwyneth was completely dumbstruck. Her sunglasses slipped from her hand and clattered to the ground, but she didn’t even notice.

Bennett?!

What on earth was he doing here?

And since when did he look… like that?

Her mind was stuck on pause, unable to reconcile the man radiating such raw masculinity with the always-composed, impeccably dressed Mr. Boyd she thought she knew.

Before she could wrap her head around what was happening, Bennett was already standing right in front of her.

He stopped, those deep-set eyes lingering on her face for a heartbeat, then he smoothly bent down, picked up her fallen sunglasses, and handed them back.

His movements were effortless, unhurried—like he did things like this every day.

Then he looked up at her, noticing her parted lips and stunned expression. The corners of his mouth lifted with a knowing curve, and his voice—warm, a touch amused—broke the moment:

“What are the odds, darling? You came here to swim too?”

Gwyneth was at a loss for words.

What are the odds? Seriously?

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