Billionaire's Ex-wife

Chapter 7

The magazine didn't do justice to Natalia's beauty. She is even more breathtaking in person. Her fiery red curls tumbled down past her elegant shoulders, bouncing enigmatically with every movement. Her deep-set eyes, framed by long lashes, stared at me unblinkingly. They were exquisite, as if sculpted to perfection. Her nose, her best feature, gave her a queenly aura.

The expensive silk wrapped around her body accentuated her gorgeous curves. No man could say no to this woman. No wonder my husband couldn't forget her.

Her elegantly arched eyebrows rose as her eyes surveyed me from head to toe. The corners of her lips twitched into a smile. At that moment, I realized she recognized me.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Bradford,” she said softly, so only I could hear. “Or shall I call you Miss De Silva now?” she added meaningfully before walking past me.

At first, I was surprised by the chilling civility in her tone. But what could I expect from my husband's ex-fiancée? I pulled myself together, ignoring her words. “Do you have any reservations?” I asked politely

She gracefully flicked her hair before looking at me straight in the eye. “No, but I’m waiting for someone,” she replied, her eyes surveying the wide expanse of the restaurant. When she couldn't find what she was looking for, a frown creased her forehead.

I ushered her to an empty table. When she sat down, the hem of her dress hitched up, exposing her flawless white legs. She crossed them.

“Aren't you going to ask who I'm waiting for?” she blurted sweetly.

"None of our customers' personal matters are my business." I maintained my professional demeanor, placing the menu before her. "Would you like to order a drink while you wait?"

She laughed, ignoring my remark. “But this particular matter is very much your business." Her perfectly manicured fingers traced the edge of the menu. "I'm meeting Grey Bradford. Your husband." She emphasized the last two words, watching for my reaction.

“I honestly don't care whom he meets. I don't put a leash on my husband or check who he is meeting all the time.” I kept my expression neutral; years of hospitality training served me well. I then added, "Our wine selection is particularly excellent today. May I recommend the Château Margaux? It pairs wonderfully with our chef's specialties?"

Her smile faltered slightly at my composure. "You're quite composed for someone whose husband is meeting his mistress."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. What did she expect from me? A dramatic display of jealousy? Bawl my eyes out because my husband is divorcing me for her? I'd rather die than humiliate myself in front of someone like her.

Natalia leaned back in her chair, studying me as if I were an interesting puzzle she was determined to solve. “You really are something, aren’t you? Most women would be in a frenzy right now, but here you are, playing hostess.”

“I was trained to provide impeccable service,” I replied coolly. “It’s what I do.”

She chuckled softly. “How noble of you. But tell me, don’t you ever tire of being a good wife while your husband is out with someone like me? Don’t you want to know what’s going on?”

I gritted my teeth before shooting her an equally fierce reply. "I suppose expensive silk and perfect curls can only mask desperation for so long. It must be exhausting, always being someone's kept woman. But then again, that's all you'll ever be, isn't it? At least I know my worth doesn't depend on a man.”

Color spread across her cheeks as she fought to meet my eyes. Then something resembling anger sparked in her gaze. She opened her lips, but no words emerged.

I summoned a sweet smile and stared back at her. “Shall I inform Mr. Bradford about your arrival?”

It took her a while to respond. When she met my eyes again, the anger I thought I saw was gone, replaced by a look cold enough to freeze the depths of hell. “No need to do that, Miss De Silva. Grey will be here soon.”

I maintained my professional stance, hands clasped before me. "If you need anything else, please don't hesitate to call me. Our staff will be happy to assist you."

I turned to leave, my shoes clicking softly against the polished floor, when her voice sliced through the air. "I wonder what you have that made him marry you."

My steps halted mid-stride. The restaurant's noise seemed to fade into the distance. My spine stiffened, but I didn't turn around.

"I mean," she continued, "you're not even that pretty. Your features are... ordinary. You have nothing special. You're like a plain manila envelope among colorful gift boxes."

My fingers twitched slightly at my sides, but I forced them still. Finally, I turned around, meeting her gaze with unwavering calm. My lips curved into a serene smile—the kind that doesn't reach the eyes but speaks volumes. "At least I didn't leave a man standing at the altar in front of three hundred guests to chase a modeling contract in Paris. You see, Natalia, while you may be a 'colorful gift box,' you proved to be completely empty inside.”

Natalia shot up from her chair, the legs scraping loudly against the floor. Her perfect face twisted, red splotches breaking out across her cheeks. Her hands curled into fists at her sides, shaking with barely contained rage.

Several diners turned to look at our table.

"You..." she hissed, but her voice caught as she noticed the growing attention. A couple at the next table whispered behind their hands, eyes darting between us.

She drew in a sharp breath, trying to compose herself, but her eyes blazed with fury. "It doesn't matter what happened in the past," she spat out. "Grey may have married you, but we both know it won't last. He'll divorce you soon enough. Men like him don't stay with women like you."

I let out a small laugh, soft enough that only she could hear it. "You know what, Natalia? I honestly don't give a damn if he divorces me tomorrow and marries you next week. But let me give you some friendly advice—don't jilt the same man twice at the altar. It's embarrassing enough to be left standing there once, but twice?" I shook my head with mock sympathy. "Even your pretty face and an expensive dress won't be able to fix that kind of humiliation."

Her lips trembled, and for a moment, she looked like she might cry.