The Monster at My Feet novel Chapter 17

The man was dressed in a tailored black suit. His facial features were so sharp and flawless he looked almost unreal. His brow was furrowed in what seemed to be a permanent scowl, and his complexion was deathly pale, lacking any color even in his lips.

The only exception was a faint, dangerous tinge of red at the corners of his eyes, exuding a chilling, volatile hostility that instantly overshadowed his striking beauty. It was the kind of presence that made people terrified to stare.

As he walked through the hall, guests murmured sycophantic, cautious greetings to "Young Master Graves."

But he barely acknowledged them, offering only a slight, dismissive nod without uttering a single word. He raised a hand slightly behind him.

Two men in black suits and sunglasses stepped forward instantly. One guided him to a secluded sofa in the darkest corner of the room, while the other hurried to pour him a drink.

Only then did the crowd dare to resume their whispering.

"I can't believe they actually managed to invite him."

"Weren't you looking for a chance to network with Young Master Graves? This is it."

"Are you insane? You never know what mood he's in. If I catch him on a bad day, my career is over."

Sylvie tilted her head, her curiosity piqued.

The man sat with his long legs crossed, his head slightly bowed, strands of dark hair falling over his eyes. He raised a hand to accept the glass from his bodyguard. His long, elegant fingers tapped the crystal twice before he slowly lifted his gaze, surveying the room.

Those narrow, bloodshot eyes locked dead onto Sylvie's bright, inquisitive gaze.

In an instant, the noise of the banquet faded to static. The eye contact lasted no more than a second, yet it felt like a suffocating wave of dark, violent ocean water crashing over her.

Sylvie's heart skipped a beat. She saw his pupils contract violently. His entire body went rigidly tense, like a wild animal cornered by a predator.

She was baffled by his reaction.

Just as she tried to get a better look, he dropped his gaze, his eyes hidden once more. He muttered something, and the bodyguard standing next to him shifted slightly, completely blocking Sylvie's line of sight.

Her blatant rejection caused the smirk on Jasper's face to slip. "What's the matter? Miss Vance doesn't want to accept my invitation?"

Lawrence, noticing the tension, marched over, glaring darkly at Sylvie. "What did I tell you before we got here?"

Jasper laughed, playing the peacemaker. "It's fine, Mr. Lawson. It's probably her first time at an event like this. She's just a bit shy. But really, girls should be a bit more outgoing. No need to be so prudish."

His eyes roamed hungrily over her body, locking onto her narrow waist as he stepped into her space again. "Come on."

His hand reached out once more. Sylvie stepped back again, the sweet, angelic smile never leaving her face.

She was completely unbothered.

If she had panicked or frowned in disgust, Jasper would have known exactly how to manipulate and pressure her. But her reaction—smiling cheerfully while staring him down—threw him off. For some reason, Jasper felt like those innocent eyes were looking at him as if he were a piece of trash stuck to her shoe.