The Man Who Never Looked Away novel Chapter 24

[What did that woman just discuss on her call?]

Z replied instantly: [A P2P lending project. Mr. Harper is backing it.]

Charley: [It's suspected of illegal fundraising.]

Z: [There's a legal firewall in place, but it's full of holes.]

He stared at the screen for three seconds before typing: [Do you know what needs to be done?]

Z: [Understood.]

Charley: [Get to work.]

***

By the time Garnett finally ended the call, it was past midnight.

He walked back to the master bedroom and pressed down on the door handle.

She had locked him out.

His fingers lingered on the metal for a second before he rattled it again. It didn't budge.

Women only ever threw themselves at him. Since when did anyone dare reject him?

She was still his wife. Keeping his distance for two years had clearly made her spoiled and arrogant.

He pulled out his phone and called her. No answer.

She had put it on silent.

He, the third-generation heir to the Harper legacy, a man commanding a multi-billion-dollar empire, was currently locked out of a bedroom by his own wife.

He raised a fist to pound on the wood, but thought better of it and lowered his arm.

They were at the family manor. He couldn't risk waking his grandmother or father, and he definitely couldn't give Zenia the satisfaction of a public spectacle.

Then he remembered the adjacent study shared a balcony with the bedroom, separated by a gap of barely a foot and a half.

Retreating to the study, he kicked off his slippers and climbed over the railing barefoot.

The moment he hoisted himself up, a wave of instant regret hit him. He was on the second floor, fifteen feet in the air, with the chilly night wind whipping through his silk pajamas.

Looking down sent a rush of vertigo straight to his head.

This was his own house. He was the CEO of a major corporation, scaling a balcony like a common burglar.

Thankfully, the crossing was fairly straightforward.

He hopped over the railing, landed solidly on his feet, and breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

Smoothing out his pajamas as if adjusting a tuxedo, he reached for the handle of the glass sliding door.

The heavy brass fixture refused to budge.

That woman had actually locked the balcony doors, too!

...

Half-asleep, Lavinia jolted upright in bed at the sudden, aggressive pounding on the glass.

It took her several dazed seconds to register the looming figure standing out on the terrace.

Sitting up, he peered over the edge of the mattress. She was huddled tightly under the blanket, looking incredibly small, with only the delicate nape of her neck exposed to the cool air.

She had yelled at him for the very first time tonight. He finally realized that underneath her compliant exterior, she actually had a temper.

He felt a twinge of regret, knowing he had pushed things way too far.

Somewhere along the line, the docile, agreeable woman he had married had turned completely defiant.

He watched her for another moment. Fast asleep, she looked as innocent as a girl untouched by the world's harshness.

After a moment of hesitation, he slipped out of bed, leaned down, and scooped her up, blankets and all.

She weighed next to nothing. Holding her felt as effortless as carrying a cloud of cotton.

He gently deposited her onto the plush mattress and tucked the duvet around her.

Shifting in her sleep, she vaguely heard someone murmur near her ear, "Sleep on the bed."

She was too exhausted to pry her eyes open. Nestling into the softness, she found the spot much more comfortable.

Turning on her side, her breathing fell into a soothing, rhythmic cadence.

He stared at her face for several long seconds. Slivers of moonlight slipped through the curtains, casting a pale, ethereal glow over her features.

A faint, nagging sense of guilt washed over him.

He finally lay down and closed his eyes.

And just like that, he drifted off to sleep.