Chapter 375

Evelyn Sinclair turned around and shot Nathan Blackwood a withering glare.

What business is it of yours?

Nathan inhaled sharply, his jaw tightening for a fraction of a second before he schooled his expression back into indifference.

He was used to this by now.

After a long pause, Nathan muttered, "Just making conversation. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to." His voice carried a hint of wounded pride.

The three bystanders nearly choked on their drinks, their glasses slipping in their hands.

Evelyn’s pulse stuttered. She pressed her lips together.

Could this bastard act normal for once?!

Little Oliver Sinclair planted himself firmly in front of Evelyn, blocking Nathan’s path.

The boy blinked his wide sapphire eyes and stared Nathan down with all the seriousness a five-year-old could muster.

"Sir, stay away from her!"

Nathan arched an eyebrow.

He hadn’t expected the kid who’d given Evelyn white chrysanthemums to be Preston Sinclair’s son.

Not that it mattered.

He still disliked the little brat on principle.

"Sir, do you like Muse too?" Oliver crossed his arms, his delicate features scrunching up in suspicion. His sparkling eyes narrowed at Nathan like a tiny guard dog.

He could tell—this man looked at Muse with dangerous intentions.

Nathan smirked and leaned down slightly, meeting Oliver’s gaze. His eyes flickered toward Evelyn’s figure with undisguised longing before he murmured, "Yeah."

A single word, spoken softly.

Evelyn rolled her eyes so hard Nathan actually chuckled.

Adorable.

Oliver huffed, his nose in the air like a miniature aristocrat. "You’re too old for Muse! Give up!"

Nathan stiffened.

Old?!

He dominated the industry. He was the youngest in the Forbes top ten. How dare this snot-nosed brat—

Nathan’s expression darkened as he leveled a glacial glare at the boy.

Just as he was about to put the little menace in his place, Oliver tugged Evelyn’s sleeve urgently.

"Muse! Daddy’s calling us. Let’s go!"

Oliver’s voice was bright with excitement—mostly because he wanted to get Muse far away from this creepy old man.

Evelyn glanced over and caught Preston Sinclair’s subtle nod. Oliver dragged her toward the group.

Across from Preston stood the butler who’d tried to bar her entry earlier, along with Lawrence and Damian Whitmore.

The butler’s face twisted with discomfort upon seeing Evelyn, while the Whitmore father-son duo radiated smug satisfaction.

"Ms. Sinclair, you know these two?" Preston gestured at the Whitmores.

Evelyn smiled and lifted her glass. "Of course. Mr. Whitmore is a shareholder at Sterling Corporation, and this is his son, Damian."

The butler interjected hastily, "Their identities are verified. Ms. Sinclair has personally confirmed it. Mr. Sinclair, Sterling Corporation meets all our requirements for this collaboration. They’re worth considering."

Preston remained impassive, though his gaze turned stormy. Evelyn arched a brow but stayed silent.

Lawrence Whitmore seized the moment. "Mr. Sinclair, we’re extremely flexible with terms. Name your conditions."

Preston exuded an icy aura that made the air itself feel heavier. After a beat, he turned to the butler.

"What’s your relationship with them?"

The butler froze.

Lawrence jumped in. "We’re practically family! It’s thanks to him that we even got this opportunity to—"

Preston cut him off with a raised hand. His frosty gaze pinned the butler in place.

"You know my rules. Remove them."

The butler hesitated. "But Mr. Sinclair, Sterling Corporation really is—"

"I’ll consider Sterling Corporation. Just not through these two."

Preston’s voice was lethally calm.

"And I don’t need a butler who forgets his place."

His eyes were arctic.

Final.