Taming The Billionaire's Obsession - Chapter 71: Chapter 71
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"I have no interest in irrelevant people or their squalid affairs," Luke stated, his voice devoid of warmth.
Ella watched Luke's expression darken further—undeniable confirmation that Jane's image was irreparably tainted in his eyes. A sliver of relief finally loosened the knot of tension in her chest.
'Perfect. He doesn't remember Jane at all,' she thought, 'Now, I just need to ensure he never links her to the Night Charm Club. And above all, they must never encounter each other again.'
"Apologies for that unpleasantness, Luke," Ella murmured, deliberately closing the distance until her body brushed against his arm. "A regrettable family burden."
The cloying scent of orchid perfume clinging to Ella assaulted Luke's senses. Once, he might have found it intoxicating, even alluring. Now, it churned his stomach—thick, oppressive, and suffocating.
Disgust warred with obligation—the promise he'd made, the two debts he owed her for saving him. They were the sole anchors preventing him from having her forcibly removed.
Wordlessly, his expression glacial, Luke took a single, deliberate step back—a movement that instantly carved an impassable chasm between them.
Ella stood frozen, publicly rebuffed. The sudden yawning distance was a silent, crushing humiliation. Her lips parted in a soundless gasp.
Fortunately, Yvonne's voice sliced through the excruciating silence. "Ella! Come here, my dear. I simply must introduce you. Everyone is positively dying to meet you."
"Oh! Coming, Yvonne." Ella called back. She cast a fleeting, uncertain glance at Luke. "Luke, I'll go accompany your mother." Seizing the lifeline, she practically fled his presence.
Swathed in exquisite, bejeweled gowns and wielding the status of Luke's girlfriend, Ella navigated the glittering crowd.
The intoxication was undeniable—watching the elite, those who would once have looked straight through her, now tripping over themselves to offer flattery.
This world of fawning admiration felt infinitely safer, a gilded cage far preferable to standing beside Luke's chillingly formidable presence.
While Ella flitted from cluster to cluster like a jeweled moth, Luke turned his back on the glittering facade and strode, cold and purposeful, from the ballroom.
Meanwhile, in Luke's private suite, Jane sat utterly motionless on the sofa, her expression wiped blank. Hayden hadn't escorted her out. Per Luke's instructions, he'd brought her here. "Ms. Ritter," he stated formally, "Mr. Drake asked you to wait for him here."
Silence met his words. Jane hadn't uttered a syllable since leaving the ballroom, retreating into a shell that the world around her seemed to have ceased to exist.
Observing Jane's face—blank and drained of all color—Hayden suppressed a sigh. He placed a small tube of ointment on the table beside her. "For your ankle, Ms. Ritter.
"Clean clothes have also been provided," he added, gesturing slightly. "Attend to the ankle and change. Remaining in those wet things will only invite a chill."
He had delivered the necessary information and provisions. His duty was fulfilled. Whether she chose to utilize them was beyond his purview.
Receiving no response, not even a flicker of acknowledgment, Hayden offered a final, dutiful courtesy. "I'll be stationed outside should you require anything, Ms. Ritter." With that, he turned, exited the lounge, and closed the door firmly behind him, resuming his post.
Only when the door clicked shut did the rigid tension finally ease from Jane's frame. She stared vacantly at the medicine bottle on the coffee table, then at the neatly folded purple dress laid out on the sofa.
Her gaze dropped to her own soaked, ruined dress. A soundless, bitter laugh shuddered through her. 'What a fool I am. Walking straight back into Ella's snare, inviting fresh humiliation. The justice, the fairness I'd naively clung to—it was all a vicious, cruel joke.'
Jane's bitter laughter dissolved into silent tears. She folded in on herself, drawing her knees tightly to her chest and locking her arms around them. Utterly alone, she resembled nothing so much as a wounded creature, retreating into the shadows to tend its injuries.
Luke strode alone down the corridor leading from the ballroom to his private suite. From a distance, he spotted Hayden standing rigidly at attention outside the door.
"Mr. Drake," Hayden acknowledged with a respectful bow.
"Where is she?" Luke demanded.
Ella watched Luke's expression darken further—undeniable confirmation that Jane's image was irreparably tainted in his eyes. A sliver of relief finally loosened the knot of tension in her chest.
'Perfect. He doesn't remember Jane at all,' she thought, 'Now, I just need to ensure he never links her to the Night Charm Club. And above all, they must never encounter each other again.'
"Apologies for that unpleasantness, Luke," Ella murmured, deliberately closing the distance until her body brushed against his arm. "A regrettable family burden."
The cloying scent of orchid perfume clinging to Ella assaulted Luke's senses. Once, he might have found it intoxicating, even alluring. Now, it churned his stomach—thick, oppressive, and suffocating.
Disgust warred with obligation—the promise he'd made, the two debts he owed her for saving him. They were the sole anchors preventing him from having her forcibly removed.
Wordlessly, his expression glacial, Luke took a single, deliberate step back—a movement that instantly carved an impassable chasm between them.
Ella stood frozen, publicly rebuffed. The sudden yawning distance was a silent, crushing humiliation. Her lips parted in a soundless gasp.
Fortunately, Yvonne's voice sliced through the excruciating silence. "Ella! Come here, my dear. I simply must introduce you. Everyone is positively dying to meet you."
"Oh! Coming, Yvonne." Ella called back. She cast a fleeting, uncertain glance at Luke. "Luke, I'll go accompany your mother." Seizing the lifeline, she practically fled his presence.
Swathed in exquisite, bejeweled gowns and wielding the status of Luke's girlfriend, Ella navigated the glittering crowd.
The intoxication was undeniable—watching the elite, those who would once have looked straight through her, now tripping over themselves to offer flattery.
This world of fawning admiration felt infinitely safer, a gilded cage far preferable to standing beside Luke's chillingly formidable presence.
While Ella flitted from cluster to cluster like a jeweled moth, Luke turned his back on the glittering facade and strode, cold and purposeful, from the ballroom.
Meanwhile, in Luke's private suite, Jane sat utterly motionless on the sofa, her expression wiped blank. Hayden hadn't escorted her out. Per Luke's instructions, he'd brought her here. "Ms. Ritter," he stated formally, "Mr. Drake asked you to wait for him here."
Silence met his words. Jane hadn't uttered a syllable since leaving the ballroom, retreating into a shell that the world around her seemed to have ceased to exist.
Observing Jane's face—blank and drained of all color—Hayden suppressed a sigh. He placed a small tube of ointment on the table beside her. "For your ankle, Ms. Ritter.
"Clean clothes have also been provided," he added, gesturing slightly. "Attend to the ankle and change. Remaining in those wet things will only invite a chill."
He had delivered the necessary information and provisions. His duty was fulfilled. Whether she chose to utilize them was beyond his purview.
Receiving no response, not even a flicker of acknowledgment, Hayden offered a final, dutiful courtesy. "I'll be stationed outside should you require anything, Ms. Ritter." With that, he turned, exited the lounge, and closed the door firmly behind him, resuming his post.
Only when the door clicked shut did the rigid tension finally ease from Jane's frame. She stared vacantly at the medicine bottle on the coffee table, then at the neatly folded purple dress laid out on the sofa.
Her gaze dropped to her own soaked, ruined dress. A soundless, bitter laugh shuddered through her. 'What a fool I am. Walking straight back into Ella's snare, inviting fresh humiliation. The justice, the fairness I'd naively clung to—it was all a vicious, cruel joke.'
Jane's bitter laughter dissolved into silent tears. She folded in on herself, drawing her knees tightly to her chest and locking her arms around them. Utterly alone, she resembled nothing so much as a wounded creature, retreating into the shadows to tend its injuries.
Luke strode alone down the corridor leading from the ballroom to his private suite. From a distance, he spotted Hayden standing rigidly at attention outside the door.
"Mr. Drake," Hayden acknowledged with a respectful bow.
"Where is she?" Luke demanded.
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