Chapter 511

It was Tristan Davis’s face, looming a little too close for comfort.
Emily Blair instinctively pulled back. “What are you doing?”
His eyes, usually a deep brown in daylight, seemed to shimmer with hints of blue in the evening shadows. Suddenly, Tristan flashed her a smile.
Emily froze for a moment, caught off guard.
Five years had changed them both. Tristan’s features had sharpened, grown more striking-he seemed even more magnetic than before. With his height, build, and looks, he could easily be mistaken for an international top model.
Not just any model, either-he’d be the kind who rocketed to stardom overnight, the sort every high-society woman wanted on her arm.
A wicked thought crossed Emily’s mind: If Tristan really were a model, she’d have every right to become his patron. And if he ever decided to find a benefactor, she certainly wouldn’t let anyone else have him. If she held the purse strings, he’d have to do whatever she wanted.
“Emily, what’s going on in that head of yours?”
His question jolted her back to reality. Emily stared into his eyes for a moment, realizing just how far her daydream had gone. With the subject of her fantasy standing right in front of her, she suddenly felt uneasy.
Tristan’s gaze and tone were both serious-there wasn’t a trace of teasing in his voice.
“Nothing. Why are you so close?” she shot back, trying to sound casual.
Tristan studied her in silence for a few seconds before speaking. “I get the feeling your thoughts weren’t exactly innocent just now.”
Emily kept her face blank. “You’re seeing things.”
He leaned in, his eyes fixed intently on hers.
Emily swallowed, pressing herself back against the seat. She felt a little guilty-after all, she’d just been mentally casting Tristan as her kept man.
Tristan had always been sharp; Emily could only hope he hadn’t seen through her embarrassment.
But after a moment, he chuckled, his voice low. “Alright, I’ll stop teasing.”
He reached over and gave her shoulder a light pat. “We’re here. Let’s get out.”
His words made her realize the car had already pulled up outside The Lane Estate. Looking ahead, she saw a line of cars parked along the left side of the entrance, at least a dozen.
Warm yellow lights glowed in the estate’s courtyard, illuminating the grounds. A handful of men and women stood chatting under the lights, clinking glasses, laughter ringing out in the night.
Emily stepped out of the car.
It was habit—no matter what she was saying, her eyes always took in her surroundings. As she and Tristan got out, the people in the courtyard turned immediately to look.
“Who is that?”
“Looks like Mr. Bennett.”
“No, I don’t think that’s Mr. Bennett.”
A few voices murmured in the crowd.
The estate’s entrance was dimly lit; from the courtyard, no one could make out their faces clearly at first. All they could see was a man and a woman—the woman had her arm hooked through the man’s, both tall, striking, and impossibly well put together. The pair stood out from the crowd, a picture-perfect couple.
“Huh, I don’t remember seeing them before.”
“Neither do I. They don’t look familiar.”
As the two drew nearer, the golden light spilled over their faces.
For a split second, the crowd fell silent; you could hear a pin drop.
The man was dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, every line accentuating his broad shoulders and lean frame. Even with most of him covered, there was no mistaking the physique of someone who’d outshine any top model.
But it was his face that truly stunned—finely chiseled features, strong jaw, high- bridged nose, every angle seemingly sculpted to perfection. Under the warm glow of the lights, his good looks were almost unreal.
“Is he mixed-race?”
“I’ve seen plenty of handsome men, thought only Mr. Lane deserved the title of top- tier, but this guy… he’s right up there.”
“And the woman beside him… isn’t that Emily Blair?”