Chapter 1705:
“You two seem very… busy. Took a full two hours to make it downstairs.” He let the words “two hours” stretch with clear intent.
Corrine kept her head lowered, feigning ignorance.
Nate guided her to a seat across from Franco. “Not everyone has your kind of free time.”
Franco lifted an eyebrow, a smug snort following. “No woman in my bed means no paranoia, no rivals, no unnecessary drama. I doubt you’d know how relaxing that feels.”
The barb landed right where he aimed it, a not-so-subtle jab at Nate’s behavior earlier.
Still, Nate remained composed, his expression smooth and unreadable, not a flicker of irritation breaking through.
The calmness left Franco feeling like he’d thrown a punch at thin air—ineffective and annoying.
Corrine sat quietly on the couch, eyes fixed on her screen as she tapped through a game.
Cigarette pinched between his fingers, Franco narrowed his eyes, his tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek in frustration. It was clear—these two were perfectly matched.
No matter how sharp his jabs, they absorbed them with grace, which only made him feel like some sideshow desperate for attention. Eventually, Franco let out a sigh. “Any ideas for dinner?”
“You decide,” Nate answered, his voice steady and cool.
Grinding the cigarette into the ashtray, Franco stood up. “Let’s go.”
Twenty minutes later, they pulled up outside a seafood restaurant in Nelting. Franco had gone out of his way to book a private booth by the window.
gⱯlnσν𝓮𝓁s﹒𝒸оm opens doors to fiction
From that vantage point, a river stretched out before them in quiet elegance. As dusk deepened, warm golden lights lit up the banks, casting reflections that shimmered like a painted dream.
Franco watched Nate with narrowed eyes, growing increasingly sour as Nate catered to Corrine without pause.
To him, Nate looked like a man who’d traded his pride for affection. One by one, Nate fished out the slivers of celery and scallions from her seafood porridge and slid the bowl toward her. He even peeled the shell off a mussel before placing it gently on her plate. It was like watching a servant tend to a queen.
And yet, watching Nate bend so far for her, Franco couldn’t help but wonder—was this what love really looked like? Love had never been on Franco’s agenda. He chased power, not romance.
But seeing Nate buried so deep in it, part of him felt oddly tempted. If he had someone by his side…
He’d never stoop like this, never hand over his pride on a silver platter. That thought curled into a sneer as he sized Nate up again.
Nate acted like he had just seen a beautiful woman for the first time.
To Franco, this meal was torture, pure and simple—sitting through a live show of affection he had no part in.
“I seriously regret inviting the two of you.” He forked a shrimp from the seafood salad and bit hard into it. “Did you come to eat or host a lovefest?”
.
.
.