The Ex-Wife's Triumph novel Chapter 44

Wyatt watched Lucy until she completely disappeared from view before turning back toward the lounge.

The noise from inside washed over him. Three young men with dyed hair immediately surrounded him, greeting him enthusiastically as "Mr. Wyatt."

He nodded absently, his silver-gray cropped hair glinting coldly under the dim lights. His features, already carrying a hint of roguish charm, looked even more brazen. People privately called him the "Little Playboy," and his entrance caused several girls to blush and sneak glances at him.

He strode over to Joyce's table in a few steps.

He pulled out the chair next to her, the screech of metal on the floor jarringly loud. "Miss Mason, we meet again. Is this destiny?" His voice was laced with amusement.

His gaze locked onto Joyce's face, hiding a deliberately exaggerated affection.

Joyce stiffened. Even with her eyes closed, she would recognize that voice. She looked up, her tone icy. "Wyatt, I don't know you well. Please leave."

"Don't know me well?" Wyatt raised an eyebrow, looking casual and unruly. A lackey handed him a cigarette. He placed it between his lips, flicking a lighter open. "You can call me by name, yet you say we aren't close? Miss Mason, tell me, how close do we need to be?"

He leaned in, the smell of tobacco and alcohol invading her space.

He was suddenly too close. Joyce stood up abruptly, gripping her phone. "If you keep this up, I'm calling the police."

"Police?" Wyatt chuckled. The lighter clicked, and an orange flame lit the cigarette. "I'm so scared."

The bitterness of nicotine spread as he parted his lips, exhaling a cloud of white smoke directly at Joyce.

Choking on the smoke, her pale face flushed red. She coughed violently.

Joyce dragged her classmates out of the lounge. The cool night wind helped relieve the tightness in her chest. She quickly hailed a taxi and typed a message to Kingsley furiously: [Kingsley, Wyatt keeps harassing me. It's seriously affecting my life.]

Kingsley, who was at a business dinner in a hotel, glanced at the notification. He tapped the screen and replied with one word: [Understood.]

As the dinner ended, Kingsley walked toward the elevators with Sean. In the dimly lit hallway, he suddenly glanced at the man walking beside him, one hand in his pocket. Kingsley's voice was devoid of emotion but carried undeniable pressure.

"If Wyatt doesn't rein it in, I won't mind teaching him some manners myself."

Sean paused, confused. "What happened? Did he upset you by chasing another girl?" In his impression, Wyatt was wild but never crossed the line.

"Tell him to behave," Kingsley didn't explain, repeating the warning with a colder tone.