Chapter 239

The good news was, he hadn’t heard any loud music on her end just now.

Evelyn must have left the club already.

But if she wasn’t heading home, where the hell was she planning to stay the night?

Nathan’s eyes darkened with suspicion.

He snatched his phone again and dialed Alexander’s number this time.

“Hello?” Alexander answered, sounding slightly bewildered by Nathan’s call at this ungodly hour.

“Where are you?” Nathan demanded, his voice sharp.

“At home,” Alexander replied cautiously.

“Where’s Evelyn?” Nathan pressed, his tone leaving no room for evasion.

Alexander’s brows knitted together. “You’re looking for Evelyn? Why are you calling me instead of her?”

“Answer the damn question!” Nathan snapped, ignoring his deflection.

Alexander pressed his lips together, hesitating for a split second—just long enough for a soft, unmistakably feminine moan to drift from beside him.

The sound carried clearly through the phone.

Nathan’s expression twisted instantly. “Whose voice was that?” he growled.

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“Uh… Oh, that? You must be hearing things,” Alexander cleared his throat, his voice laced with poorly concealed amusement.

After a deliberate pause, he added smoothly, “Evelyn isn’t here with me. Anyway, my phone’s dying. Gotta go.”

Without giving Nathan a chance to respond, he ended the call and powered off his phone, his movements swift and deliberate.

He cast a sideways glance at the television.

The moan had actually come from the show playing in the background, but Alexander had deliberately avoided clarifying—just to see how Nathan would react.

Deep down, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Nathan cared more about Evelyn than he let on.

He’d sensed it in Nathan’s clipped words, seen it in the way his jaw tightened whenever Evelyn’s name came up.

What he couldn’t figure out was why Nathan was suddenly acting this way now.

It didn’t make sense.

Shaking his head, Alexander tossed his phone onto the bedside table to charge and headed for the shower.

After a quick rinse, he toweled off his damp hair, his stomach growling in protest.

Deciding to whip up something simple, he padded downstairs to the kitchen.

Just as the water began to boil for pasta, the doorbell rang—sharp, insistent, and relentless.

Alexander sighed, turning off the stove. He already had a sinking suspicion who was on the other side.

With a quick twist of the lock, he pulled the door open—only to be met with a fist flying straight at his face.