Better Late, But Never His Again novel Chapter 11

Hazel's entire body went rigid.

She knew that voice all too well. Even in the chaotic noise of the venue, it pierced through the din and struck straight at her heart.

She turned around. Julian Hayes stood a short distance away, looking sharp in a tailored black suit, his gold-rimmed glasses catching the cold glint of the chandelier.

Evelyn Vance was clinging to his arm, dressed in a minimalist, floor-length misty blue gown that made her look both gentle and exuding quiet luxury.

It wasn't the light purple dress. As Hazel's gaze landed on Evelyn, her heart sank. She wasn't wearing it.

Hazel had just gone through a ridiculous, humiliating breakdown over that exact dress.

She closed her eyes, desperately fighting to suppress the suffocating wave of despair rising in her chest.

Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes again. Her gaze swept past Evelyn, lingered briefly on Julian's face, and then casually moved away as if they were strangers.

She lowered her head and resumed texting Nellie York.

[Nellie, any news on the invitation? Security stopped me at the entrance.]

Julian furrowed his brow.

He watched Hazel standing under the dim, warm light in that light purple gown. She looked stunning and ethereal, like a masterpiece stepped right out of a painting.

He had never seen this side of her.

But the way her eyes had just grazed over him—as if he were entirely insignificant—made a strange, unsettling knot tighten in his chest.

He slipped his arm out of Evelyn's grasp and walked over to Hazel, his voice low. "Why are you here? You didn't even tell me."

Hazel didn't spare him a single glance, continuing to tap away on her phone.

Julian's frown deepened. He reached out and forcefully grabbed her wrist, his grip punishing. "I asked you a question. Answer me."

Hazel winced from the pain and was forced to look up. Her usually soft eyes were now entirely unreadable, staring at him without a single trace of emotion.

Julian's heart gave an inexplicable squeeze.

He loosened his grip, his tone softening slightly. "If you wanted to come inside, you could have just told me. Why embarrass yourself by getting blocked at the door?"

Embarrass yourself.

His eyes narrowed slightly under the lights, glinting with a mix of amusement and calculated scrutiny. He looked like a predator lurking in the dead of night—dangerous, yet entirely captivating.

Zachary Ward?

Hazel froze. No, that wasn't right.

This man was wearing a flawlessly tailored black suit, the expensive cufflinks flashing under the lights. He radiated an aura of immense wealth and power that was worlds apart from the gritty vibe of Sycamore Lane.

He just stood there, doing absolutely nothing, yet it was impossible to ignore his presence.

He was the complete opposite of the man in the faded shirt sitting on that battered scooter.

She quickly dismissed the idea that they were the same person.

Zachary's eyes were always ice-cold, keeping everyone at a million miles' distance. But the man standing before her had a gaze swimming with warmth, charm, and a hint of flirtation.

"What, mesmerized?"

A deep, magnetic voice rumbled above her, dripping with playful teasing.