Chapter 57

"Changed your mind?" Julian Roscente sprang up from the couch. "Finally dropping the saint act?"

Nathan Evans didn't even grace him with a glance.

"Just a fling. Not my first."

Julian grinned, clapping loudly. "That's more like it! I'll set it up—clean and simple."

Within five minutes of hanging up, an address popped up on Nathan's phone.

Golden Palace Club, Room 1080

Been watching this one. Still untouched. Lucky you.

Nathan scoffed, grabbing his jacket as he strode out.

The night was ink-black. Pleasure waited for no one.

By noon the next day, Julian emerged from the adjacent suite, rubbing his temples.

He'd drunk himself into a stupor and slept till midday.

As the Roscente heir, he kept a permanent presidential suite in the family hotel—sprawling enough to fit three average apartments.

Pouring himself a glass of red wine, he shuffled toward the living room.

The moment he pushed the door open, a woman's robed back came into view. Red marks dotted her exposed shoulders and neck.

She turned toward Nathan with tear-filled eyes, only for the man to coldly toss a wad of cash at her before dismissing her.

Nathan glanced up, meeting Julian's amused gaze, and leisurely lit a cigarette.

"Damn, she was about to cry," Julian tutted. "No mercy at all?"

Nathan exhaled smoke. "Payment settled. No need for theatrics."

"Fair." Julian swirled his wine. "Join me?"

"Pass."

Only a drunk like Julian would drink this early.

Wreathed in smoke, Nathan's expression remained detached—no trace of post-indulgence satisfaction.

Julian leaned in. "Out all night. Won’t Evelyn Langley come looking?"

Nathan's brow twitched. "What is she to me? Since when does she dictate my life?"

Tch.

Still not reconciled.

"Then why not Chloe Valentine?" Julian waggled his eyebrows. "Fresh grass right there, yet you go picking wildflowers?"

That girl had curves and looks—maybe not Evelyn’s elegance, but youth had its charms.

Nathan blew a smoke ring. "Good girls mean trouble."

"Wasn’t Evelyn a good girl too?" Julian smirked. "The type to cling forever."

Nathan’s fingers stilled. "Took six years to shake her off."

Julian burst out laughing.

"Classic Nathan Evans."