Chapter 138
“My apologies, I really am sorry. I got a bit carried away with the good mood and the drinks tonight. Really, I apologize,” Mr. Smith stammered, awkward and
contrite.
“I hope there won’t be a next time. I’m quite particular about those things, so I hope you’ll understand,” Effie replied coolly.
With that, she didn’t give Mr. Smith another chance to speak. She turned and strode away, not looking back.
Mr. Smith watched her retreating figure, a brooding look flickering in his eyes.
Effie felt utterly disgusted.
She couldn’t shake the feeling that her hand was filthy. The moment Mr. Smith had reached out to grab her, she’d felt goosebumps race up her arms.
She dug a pack of wet wipes from her purse and scrubbed her hands, trying to wash away the sensation.
When she returned to the dining room, Lyman was waiting, his brow faintly furrowed, gaze fixed on the doorway. He was clearly looking for her.
Seeing her come back, his expression softened a little. He leaned closer and asked quietly, “What took you so long?”
Effie didn’t want to make a scene at the dinner table, so she just smiled and replied, “I just needed a breath of fresh air in the little garden out back.”
Lyman immediately picked up on the forced brightness in her smile, but given the company, he let it go. He simply gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Tired? Do you want to head back to the room and rest?”
She shook her head. “I’m fine. Mrs. Smith is still here-I’ll stay a bit longer.”
Not long after, Mr. Smith returned as well, cheeks flushed, his eyes unfocused. He was clearly even drunker than before. He sat down, but kept casting sidelong glances at Effie-his stare was unsettling, almost predatory.
In truth, Mr. Smith was feeling anxious. He worried Effie might tell Lyman what had happened earlier. He had looked forward to this business partnership for a long time—he couldn’t afford to screw it up now.
Still, just the thought that this woman belonged to Lyman, and that he might somehow win her over, filled him with a twisted sense of superiority.
Lyman’s expression darkened; he rapped his knuckles lightly on the table, his tone perfectly neutral. “Mr. Smith, let’s discuss the partnership details tomorrow. I think we should call it a night.”
Mr. Smith froze, but quickly forced a smile. “Yes, of course. You’re right, Mr. Etheridge. We should all get some rest.”
Mrs. Smith seemed to sense something off as well. She stood up, eager to smooth things over. “Thank you both for hosting us tonight, Mr. and Mrs. Etheridge. Let’s talk more in the morning.”
Effie glanced at Mrs. Smith, her heart softening with sympathy. She couldn’t help but wonder if Mrs. Smith knew what kind of man her husband really was.
After dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Smith retired to their suite.
Lyman took Effie’s hand, and together they strolled along the resort’s lakeside path.
The night was calm, the breeze rippling the water.
“Was today tiring? Are you alright?” Lyman asked softly.
Effie paused, surprised by his attentiveness. She shook her head. “Not at all. Mrs. Smith is lovely-we had a great conversation.”
She thought to herself, though, that Mr. Smith was another story. It would be best
to keep her distance from him in the future. Once the deal was done, they’d be gone, anyway.
In the end, Effie decided not to mention what had happened. She didn’t want to jeopardize the business.
Lyman stopped, turning to face her. His deep eyes were gentle in the moonlight. “Thank you, Effie. You have to put up with so much for my work, even entertaining clients.”
Effie looked up at him, earnest and sincere. “It’s nothing. We’re married-it’s only natural for us to support each other.”
A rush of emotion swept over Lyman. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.
Effie leaned against his solid chest, listening to the strong, steady beat of his heart, feeling utterly safe.
“Effie, I’m so grateful for you,” he murmured into her ear.
She wrapped her arms around his waist, her voice soft, “So am I.”