Chapter 17
Mrs. Hartley wasn’t having any of Bastien’s bullshit. She let out a sharp laugh that could’ve cut glass.
“Misunderstanding? Really? What kind of misunderstanding? Did someone hold a gun to your heads at the courthouse?”
Bastien met her gaze and steeled himself before saying. “The divorce is fake, okay? Ophelia and I had an arrangement.”
Connor, who’d been silently seething, finally snapped. His expression went from cold to arctic.[]
“An arrangement, Bastien? Whose brilliant idea was this arrangement? Did Ophelia come up with this fake divorce scheme? Or was that all you?“]
Bastien’s silence was deafening. Connor gave a humorless laugh.]
“That’s what I thought. My sister has always been too damn kind for her own good. She focused on her studies, barely dated, then gave her whole heart to you. You knew exactly how much she loved you, and you exploited that to manipulate her?“]
“Did you think we wouldn’t find out?”
Get the fuck out of my house!“]
Seeing Connor’s rage, Bastien realized he was losing ground fast.]
He clenched his jaw and tried again. “I know I’ve screwed up with Ophelia, but I do love her. Connor, hate me all you want, but please let me see her. We need to talk this out.”
The Hartleys went silent until Connor’s wife stepped in with her best corporate smile.
“Bastien, we’re not keeping you from her. Ophelia’s gone somewhere to clam down. She’s not here.It’s your business.“]
“We’re about to have lunch. Get out!“]
If even Connor’s wife was suggesting he leave, Ophelia truly might not be there.
After leaving, he bombarded Ophelia with calls. Radio silence.
He staked out the Hartley house for days, never spotting her. Only then did he start to believe she might actually be gone.
Ophelia knew damn well Bastien was in London. In her weakened state, dealing with him was the last thing she needed, so she stayed hidden at Grayson’s estate. Almost two weeks later, Connor dropped by to check on her.]
“Has that asshole contacted you again? He still hasn’t left town–lurks around our place every day.“[]
Ophelia looked at her brother and sighed deeply. “I’m seriously this close to getting a restraining order.“[]
Connor patted her shoulder. “If it weren’t for his dad, I’d told him trespassed already.”
“How’s recovery going?”
As Connor studied her, his eyebrows suddenly knitted together.]
“Wait, you looked gained weight.“]
Ophelia smiled somewhat sheepishly.
“Turns out Grayson’s a freaking culinary genius. He’s been cooking for me midnight feasts every night.”
“What?-Grayson can COOK? Since when?”
Ophelia blinked, confused. “He can’t?”
That absolute bastard has been mooching meals off our family since we were teenagers! Always claimed he couldn’t make coffee–hasn’t made me so much as a grilled cheese sandwich in fifteen years!“]]
“What’s he been cooking for you?”
Seeing her brother’s jealous indignation, Ophelia wisely decided to keep her mouth shut.]
When she didn’t answer, Connor glanced around. “Where is that guy anyway?“]
He stood up, determined to find him.]
Grayson was downstairs in the kitchen. Connor, having gone straight upstairs out of habit, hadn’t bothered to check there.[]
Heading downstairs, Connor found Grayson wearing his designer glasses, sleeves meticulously rolled up, apron tied perfectly around his waist.]]
Connor moved closer.
“What the hell is this?“]
“Congee.”
Grayson answered casually as Connor grabbed him by the collar, face twisted with betrayal.]
“Congee?! You’ve eaten at my table for TWENTY YEARS, and I’ve never seen you make so much as a bowl of cereal, you treacherous bastard!“]
Grayson calmly detached Connor’s hand and arched an eyebrow, his expression dripping with condescension.[]
“Not everyone deserves my cooking, Connor.“]]
