Revenge Wears My Ring novel Chapter 55

Buildings blurred past the car windows as Gwyneth leaned back against the leather seat, her fingertips tapping lightly on the contract in her hands.

“Gwyneth, that was brilliant!” Lance couldn’t contain his excitement as he drove, grinning from ear to ear. “Did you see Queenie’s face? She was practically green with envy!”

Gwyneth’s lips curled into a faint smile, but she stayed silent.

At the next red light, Lance seized the moment. He stealthily pulled out his phone and fired off a quick message to Ziggy:

[Gwyneth just landed the Yardley deal! And get this—he couldn’t take his eyes off her the whole time.]

(Attached: a candid side shot of Yardley, his gaze so soft it could melt ice.)

No sooner had he hit send than his phone started to ring.

“Zig?” Lance answered, surprised by how quickly his brother called back.

“Bring Gwyneth to Skyward Bistro for dinner. I’ve booked a private room,” Ziggy’s voice came crisply through the car’s Bluetooth, leaving no room for argument. “We need to celebrate her big win.”

“Oh, you’re buying? Great! I’ll make sure you regret it,” Gwyneth replied drowsily, shooting Lance a playful side-eye.

“No problem. And—” Ziggy started to say something more, but Lance hung up before he could finish.

“Should we invite Yardley too? Seems only right to include the client,” Lance suggested, figuring the more the merrier.

“Whatever,” Gwyneth murmured, closing her eyes.

Lance gave her a look of mock exasperation, then dialed Yardley. The invitation was accepted without hesitation.

The call ended just as the light turned green, and Lance swung the car toward Yardley’s studio.

Skyward Bistro.

As soon as they stepped into the leafy courtyard, a server ushered the three of them to the innermost private room—“Rain Whisper.”

The moment Gwyneth pushed open the intricately carved door, she froze in her tracks.

Around the round oak table, the atmosphere was so tense it could be cut with a knife.

Gwyneth found herself seated between Bennett and Yardley.

On her right, Yardley had changed into a pale, subtly patterned suit, his long hair loosely tied back with a jet-black pin. He spun a porcelain teacup idly between his fingers.

On her left, Bennett, in his dark suit, looked as cold and unapproachable as ever.

The awkwardness was palpable—even Ziggy and Lance could sense it from across the table.

Yardley broke the silence with an easy laugh, the silver tassel of his hairpin swaying with his motion. “Lance said his brother’s hosting to celebrate sealing the deal, and invited me along.”

As he spoke, his gaze drifted toward Bennett, smile glimmering in his eyes. “Ziggy, you don’t mind, do you?”

Before Ziggy could answer, he kicked his hapless brother under the table.

Lance’s face twisted in pain—Ziggy’s pointed dress shoes were lethal—but honestly, the ache in his chest was worse than the one in his foot.