Chapter 91
Chapter 91:
“Mr. Palmer, are you here for the same project?” Brinley ignored the drink he offered and instead smoothed a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her expression remained composed, her voice measured—yet the faint chill in her tone kept a clear distance between them.
The project’s profits had drawn a swarm of ambitious real estate developers, and she had expected Colin to be among those vying for it.
“Yes,” he replied, his gaze sweeping over her with thinly veiled interest. “But tell me, Brinley—what brings you here today p>
In Colin’s mind, Brinley had always seemed the last person who could be linked to racing.
Her gaze stayed calm as she answered, her voice cool and detached, “That isn’t something you need to concern yourself with p>
Austin smoothly placed a glass of champagne in her hand. The motion was casual yet deliberate, blocking Colin’s line of sight as he stepped in slightly. His tone carried quiet confidence, edged with warning. “From what I recall, Palmer Group’s strengths lie in commercial real estate. Taking on a racing-themed project might prove more difficult than you expect p>
For a split second, Colin’s grin faltered before he regained his composure. “Don’t worry. We’ve brought in a seasoned team. Tell me, Mr. Moore—are you competing for the project as well p>
Austin’s mouth curved faintly, his reply unhurried but firm. “I’m only here to accompany my wife.” With a steady arm around her waist, he guided Brinley toward the center of the venue and added, “Whatever she wants to do, I’m behind her one hundred percent p>
As they moved, Brinley felt Colin’s stare press between her shoulder blades—and sensed a second, colder gaze lingering at the edge of the lights.
ո𝗈𝘷e𝘭𝘴 𝗂𝘯 𝘵𝗿еո𝘥 оո
Near a pillar, Milly stood with a cluster of socialites, trading murmurs and quick, sidelong looks.
A moment later, her voice carried over—soft enough to sound innocent, yet clear enough for the surrounding guests to hear. “Colin, doesn’t it seem a bit reckless for Mrs. Moore, who’s never even sat in a go-kart, to jump into a racing-themed real estate project p>
A light laugh slipped from her as she added, “Maybe with Mr. Moore paving the way, any project turns into a sure thing p>
Her mocking words were grating.
Around them, the cluster of socialites fell quiet, lips flattening as their gazes flicked between Brinley and Austin, waiting for the scene to break open.
It was deliberate. Milly had pitched her comment for the room, shaping it to imply Brinley only landed projects because of Austin’s influence.
Brinley’s fingers tightened around the chilled champagne flute.
“Seems you’re awfully invested in me, Miss Russell.” A beat later, she turned, her voice steady and bright.
Milly blinked, thrown off balance by a response she hadn’t expected in place of polite silence.
Brinley held Milly’s gaze, her words edged with quiet certainty. “Mr. Deleon is respected for his integrity. He despises those who try to use influence to sway his decisions. Are you suggesting he’d entrust the project to an unqualified party p>
Milly’s cheeks flushed crimson. Her eyes shimmered almost instantly as she stammered, “I… I didn’t mean anything by it p>
Austin’s voice sharpened. “Then think before you speak next time.” He stepped in front of Brinley, shoulders squared, his eyes sweeping coldly over Milly. “Miss Russell, if idle chatter is all you have to offer, why not help the waitstaff with the trays? At least that would be more useful than peddling gossip p>
A ripple of muffled laughter stirred through the crowd.
Milly’s lashes trembled, her eyes shining as if they might spill over at any second. Yet she swallowed back any reply, turning instead to Colin with a helpless, wounded look—as though silently begging him to step in.