Summer Thorne's mind went blank for a moment.
'Why is there someone here?'
'How could it be him?'
"I'm sorry." After a stunned moment, Summer Thorne found her voice. "I didn't know anyone was in this room. My apologies for the intrusion."
With that, she quickly shut the door and strode out of the room.
Just as she reached the hallway, she saw someone who looked like an employee hurrying toward her, carrying a full suit.
He paused to greet Summer Thorne, then entered the room.
Summer Thorne had intended to hurry away, but she suddenly slowed her pace and stopped.
Before long, the employee came back out, closing the door behind him.
"Who's in there?" Summer Thorne asked.
"A friend of our director. He soiled his clothes nearby and was in a hurry, so he's borrowing the room to change," the employee replied.
Summer Thorne nodded slowly and asked no more questions.
The employee hurried off, leaving her still standing in the hallway.
A short while later, the sound of the door opening came from the room again, and the man walked out.
The light had been dim last night, and the bathroom encounter had been chaotic and flustered. Only now did Summer Thorne finally get a clear look at him.
He was an exceptionally handsome man.
He had a deeply sculpted face with strong bone structure. A smooth, powerful brow bone sat above long, thick eyebrows that framed deep, jet-black eyes. His nose was straight and perfectly proportioned, his lips full and clearly defined. His profile was chiseled, his beauty refined and aloof.
He had his suit jacket draped over one arm. The crisp white shirt stretched over well-proportioned muscles, making him appear even more trim and upright, exuding an air of noble elegance.
Compared to the dark and dangerous figure from before, clad only in a towel, he looked like a completely different person.
Seeing Summer Thorne, he stopped.
Summer Thorne quickly banished the image from her mind and offered another formal apology. "I'm so sorry. I was truly out of line just now."
"It's fine."
Despite his stunning face, the man's expression was indifferent, his reply short and dry.
Summer Thorne forced a smile, unsure of what else to say.
As they stood in silence, he suddenly fixed his gaze on her and reached out his hand.
Summer Thorne stood frozen.
But the man's hand came to rest just below her left ear. The sapphire earring on her lobe brushed against his fingertip and fell without hesitation into his palm.
The man held his hand out to Summer Thorne. "Your earring was loose."
They were strangers who had only met twice, and both encounters had been bizarre.
His gesture was, in fact, rather forward.
Yet he acted with the utmost natural ease.
Summer Thorne quickly came to her senses, took the earring from his hand, and put it back on.
"Thank you."
The man watched her, his gaze falling to the base of her fingers. He noticed the faint indentation on her ring finger from a long-worn wedding band, then impassively averted his eyes and turned to leave.
"Sir!" The words tumbled out before Summer Thorne could even gather her thoughts. "Would you be interested in attending a charity banquet with me?"
With his back to her, the man heard her and remained silent for a moment before speaking. "In that case, Miss Thorne, how much are you planning to pay for me?"
Summer Thorne froze, then it hit her—
'He heard my phone call earlier!'
She had just failed to hire a male escort over the phone, and now she was turning around and inviting him. It would inevitably make him think she saw him as that kind of man, too.
Summer Thorne couldn't help but feel embarrassed.
Even without his jacket, the perfectly tailored lines of his shirt and trousers, the soft, lustrous fabric of his suit, and the crisp crease of his pants all bespoke the luxury of custom tailoring.
Her invitation was probably the most forward thing of all.
Just as Summer Thorne was about to explain, the man spoke again—
"Just kidding. I'm sorry, but I have other plans tonight."
It was a polite refusal.
Summer Thorne immediately took the out he'd given her. She let out a soft breath and said nothing more, watching his figure disappear at the end of the hall before hurrying back to her styling room.
...
Forty minutes later, Summer Thorne arrived at the banquet venue.
Valois was home to numerous prominent families, led by the four great houses: the Carringtons, the Fus, the Zhous, and the Yorks. Among them, the Carrington Family and the York Family were related by marriage and had once been the two most powerful. Unfortunately, the York Family had failed to produce a single suitable heir for two consecutive generations, a fact that was always mentioned with a sigh.
It was feared that such a vast family enterprise could not be sustained without an exceptionally capable person to take the helm.
Even so, this charity banquet still captured the entire city's attention, drawing a crowd of elites and dignitaries.
The banquet was held in the largest hall of a hotel under the York Group. Summer Thorne rarely attended such events, so few people there recognized her. She, however, spotted many familiar faces as soon as she entered the hall.
Regardless of her relationship with Mason Crawford, she was still, in name, Mrs. Crawford, so her seat was arranged at the second-most prominent table.
"Did you hear? The York Family has a third grandson who's apparently returned to the country. He might even show up tonight."
"What? The York Family has a third young master? How come we've never heard of him before?"
"They say the boy was frail and sickly since childhood, so he's been receiving treatment abroad and has never been back."
"And here I thought the York Family might have another heir, but it turns out he's just a sickly weakling?"
"If he had any ability, he would've been summoned back long ago. They wouldn't have waited until now."
"Sigh, the great York Family... with no one to carry on the legacy..."
Led by an usher, Summer Thorne walked through the murmurs of gossip and took her seat at the highly watched second table, immediately drawing considerable attention.
"Who's that? I don't think I've seen her before."
"Huh... Why is it her?!"
"Who is she?"
"See that pair of sapphire earrings she's wearing? Three years ago, the Carrington Family bought them at a Sotheby's auction in Xiangcheng—a full set with a matching necklace. They say it's meant to be a family heirloom."
"The Carrington Family? Then isn't she Mason Crawford's wife?!"
"It really is her! Doesn't she always stay out of the public eye?"
"The rumor was that Mason Crawford married an ugly woman, and that's why he's always fooling around... but she doesn't match the rumors at all, does she?"
The people around her whispered amongst themselves, but Summer Thorne acted as if she hadn't heard a thing, smiling as she watched the waiter pour wine into the glass before her.
She had just picked up her wine glass when she lifted her gaze and noticed two ushers across the room simultaneously straighten their backs. At the same time, a server behind her whispered to a colleague—
"Mr. York is here."
'Mr. York?'
Summer Thorne glanced at the staff, who had instantly tensed up, and couldn't help but wonder—
'Besides old Mr. York, which other Mr. York could command such tension and respect?'
But old Mr. York had long since retired from the public eye and wouldn't personally attend an event like this.
The atmosphere in the venue suddenly underwent a subtle shift. An inconspicuous ripple spread through the crowd, expanding outward from every corner.
Before long, everyone's attention had turned toward the entrance.
Summer Thorne followed their gaze.
Someone was entering.
A tall, dashing young man in a three-piece suit with peaked lapels, accompanied by several elite executives, strode through the crowd. His sharp, handsome presence instantly captured everyone's attention.
For a split second, it was as if everyone else had faded into the background.
It was like a scene from a dream, where the faces of the crowd blurred into obscurity. Only one person remained, standing above the rest, radiantly and distinctly clear.
He possessed an air of magnanimous nobility, and a handsomeness as striking as a verdant mountain.