Burn Me Once Burn With Me (Ruby Grayson) novel Chapter 132

For reasons he couldn't explain, Sylas's casual inquiry landed in Cassian's ears as nothing short of a blatant display of superiority.

The memory of Ruby's resolute tone and icy, mocking gaze gnawed at his chest, leaving him even more on edge.

"No date."

Cassian's reply was clipped and cold.

Sylas frowned at the unwelcoming tone on the other end of the line, muttering to himself.

Who got under his skin this time?

Sure, his uncle's wife betrayed him, but wasn't there that considerate secretary at the office? Could he really not find a single person to bring along?

Sylas looked puzzled, but wisely chose not to press further.

The conversation ended on a sour note.

As he hung up, Sylas rubbed his chin in thought.

Strange… after this call, Cassian's voice sounded uncannily like Ruby's estranged husband.

He clicked his tongue, shaking off the absurd idea.

He was being ridiculous.

Ruby's husband was a callous fool who didn't recognize her worth—rumor had it the divorce was already in the works. As for his uncle, he was stuck with a wife who had betrayed both him and the family business.

At most, the two men were simply suffering the same kind of misfortune.

With a lazy flick, Sylas tossed a berry from the fruit bowl into the air, catching it between his teeth. The sweet-tart juice burst on his tongue, bright and refreshing.

Ruby…

His expression shifted, a slow smile curling at his lips.

His narrow, fox-like eyes narrowed further, as if he were slipping into some fond, faraway memory.

But Sylas wasn't one to linger in nostalgia for long.

Memories might be sweet, but happiness was right within reach now, wasn't it?

He rose from his chair, making arrangements to personally pick out formalwear.

Two days flew by, and the carefully selected racks of dresses—one for adults, one for children—were soon delivered to Ruby's doorstep, just as she'd requested.

Ruby's jaw dropped as she took in the sight: two entire rows of evening gowns, filling her room. She'd lived in luxury for years, but even her wealthiest days had never been this extravagant.

She ran her fingers along the dresses—every one made from sumptuous, expensive fabrics.

Her hand slipped lower, brushing against a skirt hem encrusted with crystals, pearls, and tiny diamonds, each gem painstakingly sewn by hand.

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