Betrayed By The Billionaire

170

Xavier remained completely indifferent to her whispered explanation, his profile as cold and unyielding as a marble statue. Beside her, Liam Martin had seen her discreet tug and heard the soft, pleading tone of her voice. Under the table, his own hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. A sharp, rhythmic ache pulsed in his chest. I am sitting right next to her, he thought, yet I feel like a total stranger. He couldn't understand why she was so desperate to explain herself to Xavier—was she truly that terrified of his disapproval?

Seeing that Xavier was ignoring her, Chloe reached out again, her fingers nervously catching the hem of his jacket once more. This time, Xavier finally moved. He shifted his gaze downward, staring pointedly at the small hand clutching his fabric.

"Miss Bishop," he said, his voice ringing out with a lazy, deliberate clarity that silenced the room. "Please remove your hand from my trousers."

The air in the suite vanished. Every pair of eyes at the table snapped toward them, filled with expressions ranging from confusion to blatant disgust. To the guests who didn't know their relationship, Chloe looked like a shameless social climber attempting a crude, physical seduction under the table at a professional dinner. The implication was clear: what kind of "respectable" woman reaches for a man's lap in public?

Chloe’s face burned a deep, humiliated crimson. she jerked her hand back instantly, her heart hammering against her ribs. She had only been tugging at the edge of his blazer; she hadn't touched his leg at all. By distancing himself and addressing her formally as "Miss Bishop," Xavier was intentionally misleading the room and stripping her of her dignity as his wife.

Liam Martin could no longer maintain his silence. He looked at Xavier, a forced, tight smile on his face. "Mr. Grayson, Chloe merely caught your sleeve by accident. I’ve heard you were fastidious around women, but I didn't realize it was this extreme."

Xavier turned his head toward Liam, a flash of mocking amusement in his dark eyes. "Mr. Martin speaks so casually. It seems you’re quite used to being touched under the table, then?"

Chloe’s breath hitched, her fingers digging into her palms until her skin turned white. Xavier was publicly and ruthlessly insulting her, using her past with Liam as a weapon to brand her as "easy." She realized then that in his current state of rage, every move she made would be twisted into a sin.

Liam’s temperament broke. His expression turned lethal as he stared at Xavier. "I suggest you show some self-respect, Mr. Grayson."

Dr. Aris chimed in with a dry, cutting laugh. "I think it’s Mr. Martin who needs to check himself. Can't you see Miss Bishop is barely acknowledging your existence? There’s a time and a place for playing the knight in shining armor, and this isn't it."

Liam ignored the doctor, his focus entirely on Chloe. His voice was thick with protective instinct. "Chloe, come sit on my other side. Get away from him."

Chloe’s hands were trembling now. She stared fixedly at the white lace tablecloth, her lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line.

"Chloe..." Liam urged again.

"Mr. Martin, could you please just leave me alone?" she snapped, finally looking up. Her eyes were cold, distant, and filled with a weary exhaustion that made Liam feel as though he had been physically struck.

Xavier watched the exchange, a cruel, satisfied smirk playing on his lips. The rest of the table sat in a suffocating silence, the scent of gunpowder and unspoken war hanging thick in the air. The Hans looked on, utterly bewildered by the vitriol between the two titans of the city.

The "skirmish" finally subsided as the first course arrived. Chloe didn't dare move again. She had fully realized the depth of Xavier’s malice tonight, and no matter how much she wanted to scream at his unfairness, she forced herself to swallow her pride. This was the path she had chosen; she had to walk it, even if her feet were bleeding.

As the meal progressed, Chloe kept her head down, focusing entirely on the food in front of her to avoid making eye contact with anyone. Fortunately, Liam seemed to take the hint and stopped speaking to her. However, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him drinking—one glass after another in rapid succession.

Within minutes, small red welts began to bloom across the skin of his neck. Chloe’s heart gave a faint, instinctive pull of worry. Liam was severely allergic to alcohol; if he drank like this, he would break out in a painful, itchy rash that could turn dangerous. In the past, she would have never allowed him to touch a second glass, let alone a bottle.

Now, she sat inches away, forced to watch him self-destruct in silence, knowing that even a glance of concern would be enough for Xavier to burn the Bishop Group to the ground.