A Vow of Deception, A Vow of Revenge novel Chapter 157

"Are you sure it was Elvis?" Tyson asked.

Jude let out a cold laugh. "Who else could it be? Name me one other person."

"But why would he suddenly go after your business?"

"Isn't it obvious? Our families have always been at odds." Jude's answer was vague and dismissive.

He couldn't let Tyson find out the real reason—that he'd run his mouth in front of Winona and ended up on the wrong side of Elvis's temper. If Tyson ever suspected Jude's feelings toward Winona, it would only spell more trouble.

Fortunately, Tyson didn't press the issue. In fact, his opinion of Jude had shifted a little. He'd always assumed Jude was just a spoiled playboy who lived for parties and pleasure, but it turned out Jude had been quietly building his own business behind the scenes. Granted, Elvis had just wrecked most of it with a single move, but still—at least now Tyson could see that Jude was worth considering as a partner, not just the shallow dilettante everyone thought he was.

"Elvis really is ruthless," Tyson scoffed. "But now, Young Master Quincy, it seems our partnership just became a whole lot more… necessary."

Jude chuckled, then turned abruptly to the server outside the door. "Bring us a bottle of wine," he called.

The server hesitated for a moment, surprised—this was a tea lounge, after all, and wine was hardly the norm. Still, anyone seated in a private suite on the third floor of The Lunar Lounge was either rich or powerful, and she wasn't about to offend them. She hurried off to fulfill the request.

A few minutes later, she returned with a bottle of red and several glasses. Tyson's expression soured at the sight of red wine, but now wasn't the time to protest and risk embarrassing Jude.

After the server poured them each a glass, Tyson was the first to raise his. He smiled, "Well then, here's to our future partnership."

Jude flashed a sly grin, lifted his own glass, clinked it against Tyson's, and downed the wine in one go.

———

Jonah's art exhibition was scheduled to run for a week.

Tonight's showing was nearly over; most of the guests had already drifted out, leaving only a handful still admiring the last paintings, quietly murmuring among themselves, their voices filled with praise and awe.

"No wonder they call him the Prodigy Painter."

After all, Miss Bellamy had returned her ticket to him.

A trace of bitterness clouded Jonah's eyes.

"Here you go, Mr. Rogers."

The young man handed over the pen and paper, careful and a little nervous. Jonah signed his name, then handed them back with a gentle word of encouragement. "Keep at it."

"Thank you, Mr. Rogers!"

Maybe because Jonah seemed so approachable, the young man plucked up his courage again. "Mr. Rogers, could I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"There's a rumor," the young man said, lowering his voice, "that there's a painting you keep hidden away in your private studio, something nobody's ever seen. Is it true? And… could you give us a hint about what it's about?"