Axius Somerville was feeling a bit vexed. He considered himself someone who worked out every day, so his strength shouldn't be lacking, yet he couldn't even push away a man.
Now Cece wasn't coming to his rescue, so he could only accept fate and pick up his juice, taking a sip before saying irritably, "I'm done drinking—aren't you supposed to let go now?"
Julian Haworth still didn't loosen his grip, only toying with the U disk he'd just snatched in front of Axius, grinning, "Tell me what's inside, and I'll let you go."
Axius was one of the top idols of the new generation, his connection to Quiana Sutton was tenuous at best, yet the two of them sneakily came to North Star to meet. Right now, he strongly suspected Quiana was cheating on Durrell Landon.
Even though he was still shaken, since he'd basically caught them red-handed, there was no way he'd let Axius off that easily.
Axius stared at Julian's hand tossing the U disk up and down, instinctively fumbling for his pocket, "When did you take it?"
"Just now. If you won't tell me what's in it, I'm not giving it back."
Since the other guy was Cece's bodyguard, he didn't bother hiding it.
"Songs and lyrics written for me by Cece."
Julian Haworth: "???"
He wasn't really a fan of Axius, but he'd heard a few songs at least. He'd joked with Charles Foote, said that if he were a woman, he'd be utterly obsessed with Axius.
The voice was certainly distinctive, but what hooked him more were the compositions and the lyrics.
There was always a hint of dangerous madness, a chill that seeped into the bones, yet an irresistible attraction that drew you in.
And now he was being told all that—his favorite music—was written by the woman he hated most?
His emotions tangled into a mess, his past replaying in his mind like a carousel.
Liking Axius' music basically meant liking Quiana. He'd rather die than admit that.
Axius only thought this bodyguard was damn weird; he took advantage of Julian not paying attention to grab back the U disk—this time didn't dare stick it in his pocket, just clenched it tightly and slipped away.
Quiana had never seen Julian look so tragic, like he'd lost his family: "You know, it's really hard not to suspect you've got inappropriate feelings for Axius."
Julian Haworth: "..."
He was clearly incompatible with Quiana; no matter what she said, he felt like jumping out of his chair.
"What kind of wild fantasies are you cooking up? How could I possibly have any ideas about Axius?"
Quiana glanced meaningfully at Charles Foote, who hadn't said a word—a trace of ambiguity flickering in her icy gaze. Her smile was lazy and almost careless:
"You two are always together. It's really hard not to get suspicious."
Charles Foote: "!!!"
If being an innocent bystander ever took a bullet, it was him right now.
Julian, half-laughing, half-seething, suddenly rolled up his sleeves and leaned forward: "Why don't I prove my orientation to you?"
His hand hadn't even touched Quiana before a chilling voice came from the doorway:
"Just what are you doing here?"
Everyone instinctively looked toward the voice. A figure stood a short distance away, half in sunlight, half in shadow—bold strokes and dark hues, so intense it made hearts tremble.
Oliver Gale: "???!?!"
He saw it all—Julian looking like he wanted to pin Quiana down, while Charles did nothing to stop it.
His head started throbbing instantly.
The moment Julian saw Durrell Landon, he snapped back to his senses, quickly letting go and stammering, "Durrell, please don't misunderstand!"
Quiana acted like she hadn't seen Durrell's anger, smiling lightly:
"Misunderstand what? Weren't you about to prove your orientation to me?"
Why did it feel like everything she said just got more and more suggestive?
Julian's headache worsened, and he started hurriedly explaining:
"Durrell, you've got to believe me."
Durrell didn't respond, his gaze landing on Quiana from across the room.
Her half-smile, rebellious features blurred by the dim lighting—there was a kind of untouchable aloofness, yet with some strange undertone of corruption and decay.
It was as if she was always masked, drifting through this world—no one could ever touch her heart or rattle her composure. Nothing in this world could ruin her, she remained detached, coolly watching the fire from the riverbank.
She was everything he claimed to dislike, and yet there was something magnetic about her; in any crowd, she was impossible to miss.
While Durrell watched her, Quiana glanced back—just a fleeting look, then turned away.
Her face was almost emotionless, and yet in that instant, a longing rose up inside him: he wanted to see those calm and detached eyes burning with desire for him—what a sight that would be.
Durrell stayed silent. Julian didn't dare say another word, sitting next to Quiana as meek as a chick.
Oliver Gale saw the tension in the room. He hurried to say, "Durrell, let's go chat in a private room before we become a joke out here."
Julian shot Oliver a grateful look, nodding like a pecking chicken.
Oliver couldn't be bothered with him, just turned to Quiana:
"Cece, why don't you come too?"
She stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray and replied coolly, unhurried: "Not interested."
Oliver's patience didn't waver:
"Cece, just give me some face?"
...
Quiana hadn't really planned to make things tough for Julian. Once inside the private room she took a seat on Oliver's left, boredly playing with her nails.
Oliver noticed Durrell's gaze glued to Quiana, so he kicked Julian under the table, hinting at him to hurry up and explain.
Julian snapped out of it, recounting everything between sniffles and tears, though he skipped the part where he really did want to prove his orientation to Quiana.
"Durrell, you have to believe me. I swear I didn't do anything. Plus, with Knight Tamworth there, I couldn't have crossed the line no matter what."
The more he said, the smaller his voice got, growing more and more pitiful.
Durrell didn't say he believed, nor that he didn't—he just suddenly got up, stepped right up to Quiana, tilting her chin so she had no choice but to meet his gaze. He stared into her bottomless eyes, his voice icy:
"Before the divorce, you're still my wife. I won't do anything to you, but if you really cheat on me, your lover will be damned for eternity."
Julian felt his head twitch in fear for some reason.
Quiana frowned slightly, then suddenly did something no one expected.
She grabbed his wrist, threw him onto the couch, and the next second was looming over him, her foot on the soft cushion. Before anyone could react, her right hand was already around his throat.
"Are you threatening me?"