Chapter 49: Strangled him

Sienna folded her arms. "Fine. I shouldn’t have ignored you. I’m sorry."

Callahan watched her for another moment, his amusement lingering, "Accepted."

She relaxed a little, only for him to add, "Next time, you can tell me you’re refusing to be my date. It saves us both a great deal of trouble."

Sienna stared at him, "Who said I was refusing?"

His gaze held hers, and the smile at the corner of his mouth deepened, "Your actions, Miss Qing."

This petty man... He usually called her ’Mrs. Hawke’ after their marriage but he swiftly switched to ’Miss Qing’ to let her know his stance.

"I am not fully responsible. I thought you already had a date..."

"And what made you entertain such a thought?"

Both the people looked at each other.

Somewhere far in a luxury apartment, Leon let out a violent sneeze, "Ugh! Which bastard is scheming against me?!"

...

Jace excused himself from the ballroom and headed toward the washroom at the end of the corridor, his phone pressed to his ear.

The moment he pushed open the door, he noticed that the lights were off.

He paused, glancing at the darkened place before stepping inside anyway.

"I’m still at the charity gala with a friend," he said into the phone. "We should be leaving soon."

Thinking of Sienna and Callahan who were on their little date on the terrace, he smiled and added, "She might not need me to escort her anymore. Just make the arrangements for the photoshoot and I will see it done tonight."

The call ended, and Jace switched on his phone’s flashlight, sweeping the beam across the marble counters and closed stalls.

He had barely taken a step when an arm clamped around his throat from behind, dragging him backward.

His phone slipped from his hand and struck the floor.

Before he could recover, hot, ragged breaths brushed his ear, followed by a low, unfamiliar voice, "Who are you?"

Jace barely had time to react before his attacker slammed him against the wall.

Pain shot through his shoulder, but instinct took over. He drove his elbow backward, twisted against the crushing hold, and managed to wrench himself loose.

The man lunged at him again, and the two crashed into the counter, sending a glass dispenser shattering across the floor.

"Have you lost your mind?" Jace snapped, blocking another strike as he angled the phone’s flashlight.

His opponent was tall and strikingly handsome, with sharp features that might have belonged on the cover of a luxury magazine.

Yet there was something deeply unsettling about his appearance.

His eyes were bloodshot, his breathing uneven, and the vicious glare fixed on Jace’s face made him look less like a man picking a fight than a beast cornered by an invisible enemy.

The man seized Jace by the collar and slammed him back against the wall.

"Who sent you?" he demanded, his voice rough with a fury that seemed entirely out of proportion to the situation.

Jace gripped the man’s wrist, trying to pry it away, but the strength behind the hold was alarming.

Then he noticed the tremor in those fingers and the way the stranger’s gaze kept slipping past him, as though he were seeing something that wasn’t there.

The man’s expression twisted, his jaw clenched so tightly that a muscle jumped beneath his cheekbone, and for one brief moment, his grip loosened before tightening again.

Something was seriously wrong with him.

"Hey, look at me." Jace kept his voice firm, forcing himself not to struggle harder, "I’m not whoever you think I am."

The man seemed barely aware of his surroundings, caught in the grip of something that had nothing to do with Jace.

"Listen," Jace continued, watching his face carefully, "You’re in a washroom at a charity gala. Nobody is attacking you. Let go of me, take a breath, and try to figure out where you are before you break something else."

The man’s eyes flashed dangerously, but his hold faltered again.

Jace seized the opening, shoved himself free, and stepped out of reach.

He kept his hands raised, ready to defend himself if necessary, while the man staggered back against the wall, one hand pressed to his temple.

For a while, neither spoke.

Jace retrieved his phone and left the flashlight pointed toward the floor, giving the man room as his breathing gradually settled and he closed his eyes as though fighting through a headache.

When he finally looked up again, the feral confusion had receded from his gaze.

Jace straightened his rumpled collar and studied him, "Are you all right?"

The man blinked once, then glanced at the shattered glass on the floor and the disheveled state of Jace’s clothes.

Whatever had possessed him moments ago seemed to have vanished, replaced by a composure so effortless that Jace almost wondered whether he had imagined the entire encounter.

Then, the man smiled.

It was a bright, charming smile, the sort that could probably persuade a room full of people to forgive him for just about anything.

He brushed a hand over his hair and straightened his jacket before reaching into his pocket for a card.

"My apologies. That was an unfortunate misunderstanding," Victor held the card out to Jace with an easy, almost playful air.

"Let me make it up to you. If there’s something you need, name it. Money, a favor, an introduction. I’m sure we can come to an arrangement," he added.

Jace stared at him, momentarily speechless. Then his expression hardened.

"An arrangement?" He let out a disbelieving laugh, "You nearly strangled me, and now you are deciding a price on me?"

The man’s smile flickered, though he kept the card extended, "I was hardly in the right state of mind."

"And somehow that makes this better?" Jace’s voice turned icy. "Whatever your problem is, deal with it. I don’t know who you are, and I couldn’t care less how much money you have."

Jace didn’t wait for a response. He stepped around the broken glass, retrieved his phone, and headed for the door.