No one expected the floor to be that slippery; the small footstool she brought over to stand on suddenly slid forward. Just as Yunice’s waist was about to slam into the railing and she started toppling into the sea, Wyatt grabbed her around the waist.
He casually kicked the stool aside and wrapped his arms around Yunice, pressing a kiss to her lips.
It was quick, like a brush of dragonfly wings. He glanced at Yunice; when he saw she wasn’t resisting, he deepened the kiss possessively.
“Mr. Paul, what are you looking at?” Jordan walked up beside Paul with a champagne glass in hand and a grin that practically screamed flirtation.
Paul was standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, staring out toward the terrace. Between the glass and the terrace, lush seaside plants had been arranged like a screen, partially blocking the view.
Still, through the gaps in the foliage, you could make out what was happening on the terrace. Because their backs were turned, Jordan didn’t see Wyatt’s face — but he did see Yunice.
He assumed Paul was interested in the woman and leered, “She’s got fair skin and a tiny waist. If you’re into it, Mr. Paul, I can get her for you tonight.”
Paul had been dragged to this party by Jensen. He didn’t expect to show up and immediately see Yunice and Wyatt making out.
His mood tanked. Everything felt off, and now everyone looked like an eyesore. He shot a glare at the man trying to suck up to him and said coldly, “Sure, bring her to me.”
With that, Paul slammed his glass down and headed inside.
Jordan blinked, confused by the look he got. He didn’t think he said anything wrong.
Meanwhile, the couple on the terrace finally broke apart. With the change in angle, Wyatt’s face came into view; Jordan’s hand slipped, and he nearly dropped his champagne.
No wonder Paul had glared at him. Competing with Wyatt over was practically suicide. Wyatt’s fingers brushed the red marks on Yunice’s neck.
The handprint was a real eyesore.
Wyatt’s eyes grew darker by the second. Jordan walked out onto the terrace and said, “Wyatt, everyone’s waiting for you.”
Wyatt gave a low grunt of acknowledgment. After a few seconds, he finally let go of Yunice’s neck.
“Wait here for me,” Wyatt said, then walked into the hall without looking back.
The place was packed with entrepreneurs and executives — elites from all industries. Yunice didn’t know any of them, and she wasn’t dressed for it anyway. She hadn’t planned on going out.
So she stood by the window, gazing outside.
Behind Wyatt on the stage was a row of ribbon garlands for a ceremonial cutting. It looked like a product launch event.
Jensen stood to the side, leading the applause with a smile that gave nothing away.
Everyone in the Powell family could put on a show — except Paul. His face always gave him away. Wait. Why wasn’t Paul onstage? Would the Powell family really pass up a chance to let Paul soak up the spotlight?
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