She's Too Busy Winning to Watch Him Cry novel Chapter 307

Leo shrugged casually. "Sure, why not."

He pulled Lyra along as they followed Yvonne.

The moment they stepped into the private VIP booth, Lyra's breath hitched.

Sitting dead center in the room was Rowan. He was lazily swirling a glass of liquor between his fingers, taking a slow sip. Four or five unfamiliar men were seated around him, and the atmosphere in the room was suffocatingly heavy.

Yvonne didn't mince words. "I actually came here specifically looking for Rowan."

When Leo walked in, the mood in the booth shifted instantly.

The men around them started cheering.

"Leo! Man, it's been forever."

"Making a fortune in Monaco and not even cutting us in?"

Lyra sat close to Leo, watching anxiously as the men relentlessly raised their glasses, aggressively encouraging Leo to drink.

"Don't drink too much. You still have to take me home," Lyra whispered, squeezing his large hand tightly.

Suddenly, a suffocating, predatory gaze locked onto her from across the room.

Lyra's eyelashes fluttered violently in panic. She didn't dare lift her head to meet the man's eyes. She turned her face away, watching helplessly as Leo's face grew flushed, throwing back shot after shot.

Panic twisted in Lyra's chest. She reached out and pinched Leo's thigh sharply. "Stop drinking."

Leo grabbed her hand, but as if suddenly remembering a warning, he quickly dropped it. He offered a reassuring smile. "I'm fine. I've got a great tolerance."

Rowan had promised him there wouldn't be any chaos.

So, it had to be fine.

Sitting nearby, Yvonne noticed Rowan's intense stare and frowned in confusion, following his line of sight to Lyra. Didn't Rowan have absolutely zero interest in this girl? Why was he looking at her like he wanted to devour her?

Yvonne casually asked Lyra how she had been, inquiring if she was still working at Fairchild Holdings.

Lyra gave vague, polite answers, but alarm bells were screaming in her head.

The air felt like the dead silence right before a catastrophic storm—the terrifying stillness when a predator corners its prey.

Lyra was gasping for breath, refusing to meet his eyes. "You'll have someone take him home."

"Then shouldn't I be the one to take you home? I'd be worried sick letting you wander around all alone..." Rowan's lips pressed into a tight line. His dark eyes were bottomless as he silently pushed the car door open and grabbed her wrist.

His grip was brutal and absolute, offering zero chance of escape.

Right in front of Wesley, who was sitting in the driver's seat, Rowan forcefully dragged her into the back of the car.

Lyra fought him wildly, kicking and struggling, but she couldn't break his iron hold. "You bastard!" she screamed.

Wesley spun around in the driver's seat, his eyes wide with horror. "What did you just call him?"

Rowan didn't even blink. "She called me a bastard. Did you not hear her? If you can't understand English, get out of the car."

Still reeling in absolute shock, Wesley fumbled with his seatbelt and practically scrambled out the door.

The heavy door slammed shut, completely cutting off the noise of the city streets.

The atmosphere inside the sealed cabin instantly plummeted to freezing. The crushing dominance radiating from the man beside her made it entirely impossible to breathe.