Chapter 6

Caleb returned to the VIP lounge. Gideon immediately noticed the faint imprint of fingers on his friend's handsome face. Lowering his voice, he asked, "What happened to your face?" Caleb hadn't even realized there was a mark. Not that he cared anyway. Remaining expressionless, he lied effortlessly, "Got scratched by a cat." "A cat with the last name Whitmore?" Gideon grinned, thoroughly entertained. Caleb shot him a warning glance. Gideon, unbothered, shifted into a more comfortable position and leaned in. "Be honest. What's the deal with Yasmin? Even if this was just a game, after three years, shouldn't the novelty have worn off by now?" The rest of the group was lost in their own worlds—howling into microphones, downing drinks, or making out with their dates. In the dim light, Caleb's expression was unreadable. A sudden wave of irritation crept up on him, compelling him to light up another cigar. So, that was what the ordeal was about? The novelty had worn off, eh? Was that why she couldn't wait to leave? Gideon, realizing he wouldn't get an answer, turned to the hostess serving their lounge and gestured for her to come over. She beamed as she eagerly scurried over. Another woman, tall and striking, quickly slid into the seat beside Caleb, her voice soft and honeyed. "Mr. Grant…" Caleb turned his head slightly, assessing her. Noticing his gaze, the woman thought he was interested. She reached out, her fingertips grazing toward him. "Get lost." His voice was icy, causing the temperature in the room to plummet. "Mr. Grant, I… I'm clean…" The woman's hand froze in mid-air. She hesitated as she was unwilling to give up, so she leaned in slightly. "Am I not pretty enough?" The light hit Caleb's face just right. He had dropped his gentlemanly facade, his icy gaze seemingly ready to kill at any moment. Fear crept up her spine. She instinctively turned to Gideon, hoping he'd help her put in a good word or two. But Gideon, now draped over another woman, simply smirked and waved a finger. "You're nowhere near the one he has at home." … "How did it go? Caleb didn't give you a hard time, did he?" Brenda asked as Yasmin slid back into their booth. "No." Yasmin shook her head. If anything, she was the one who had hit him. Only God knew when he would decide to settle that score with her in the future. Brenda suddenly pulled out her phone and handed it over. "Look at this, Yasmin. Isn't this emerald bead necklace your aunt's? It's listed in next month's auction at Dunville Auction House." The image on the phone was a stunning emerald bead necklace. Its rich color was flawless, proving that it was a rarity beyond price. It was her grandmother's heirloom, once gifted by the royal family generations ago. More importantly, it had been her mother's most treasured piece. Her father had taken all of her mother's belongings, using grief as an excuse. And yet, here was the emerald bead necklace, about to be auctioned off. Yasmin's chest heaved with anger. She turned her gaze toward the second floor, her expression steeling with determination. She needed leverage against the Whitmore family. "Brenda, can you head home first? I need to see Caleb again." Brenda didn't press for details. "Call me if you need anything." … The doors to the VIP lounge abruptly swung open. A woman, looking radiant in a flowing dress, stepped inside, searching for someone. "Yasmin?" "She's here again?" Before anyone could fully process it, Yasmin's gaze locked onto Caleb. He was seated right in the center of the room. She strode forward with such clear intent that the woman sitting next to Caleb immediately stood up, blocking her path. "Miss, what do you think you're doing?" Yasmin took a good look at the woman. She was pretty, but the forced attempt at innocence didn't quite land. With a saccharine smile, Yasmin pointed at Caleb. "Miss, before you try to guard your food, you might want to check whose bowl it belongs to." "How dare you call me a bitch!" The woman's fake demure act shattered instantly. Gideon outright laughed. The correct response would've been to ignore it as whoever responded would be the bitch. Caleb leaned back in his seat, swirling his glass of whiskey lazily as he watched Yasmin with an air of amusement. Noticing his silence, the other guys around him were all too happy to stir the pot. "Well, well, what brings you here, Ms. Whitmore? Checking in on your man?" "Come on, Yasmin, we all know how you got Caleb to marry you." "Know your place. Stay out of what's none of your business." The woman beside Caleb straightened her back, her confidence restored after she heard their words. "Checking in?" Yasmin chuckled, giving the woman a once-over. "You're introducing Caleb to this? If you're aiming for temptation, at least find someone better than me." The group bristled. Better than her? When it came to looks, figure, and class, Yasmin was undoubtedly top-tier in their circle. Yasmin looked at Caleb. He was sipping his drink, his entire posture exuding detachment. He clearly had no intention of helping his wife out. Without hesitation, she shoved the woman aside, stepped forward, and, in one swift motion, climbed onto Caleb's lap. The silk of her white dress fanned around her, obscuring her legs completely. But the position emphasized the curve of her waist and hips. It was an effortless display of seduction that made heads spin. Caleb hadn't expected Yasmin—who has always been reserved in public—to do something like this. For a rare moment, he froze. His instinct kicked in, his hands subconsciously moving to steady her waist and prevent her from falling. "What… are you doing?" Yasmin leaned in, so close that their noses almost touched. Her eyes curved into a playful smile. Lowering her voice to a whisper only he could hear, she murmured, "Mr. Grant, can't wait already?" Caleb put on a blank face. To the others, all they saw was Yasmin straddling him, but they couldn't hear what she had said. Still, the fact that Caleb's expression seemed off made them all shut up. The only sound that remained was Yasmin's soft laughter. She cast a sidelong glance at the woman she had just replaced, then cooed, "I told you you're not good enough." The woman's face burned red with embarrassment. She was furious at herself for hesitating earlier. Caleb cursed under his breath, his voice husky and low, "Get off." Yasmin flexed her foot slightly, reminding him that she was in heels. She shamelessly claimed, "My feet hurt." Caleb's Adam's apple bobbed slightly. Without warning, he stood up and started leaving. Yasmin barely had the time to reach out and instinctively wrap her arms around his neck. "Ah! Caleb!"