Burn Me Once, Burn With Me novel Chapter 389

No wonder Dad was always so distant with Frieda, even after all these years together. Coming home for him was no different from clocking in at the office—expressionless, detached. Now it made sense. Gennifer’s mother was breathtakingly beautiful.

A sigh welled up in Gennifer’s chest, and she unconsciously straightened her back.

To be fair, if it really came down to looks, Frieda was stunning in her own right—absolutely top-tier. But after so many years of hardship, she no longer carried her mother’s effortless grace. The shine in her eyes had dulled, her beauty faded, as if she were a pearl left too long in the shadows.

“Thank you, Mom.”

Gennifer’s eyes crinkled with a soft smile as she accepted the compliment.

Violet couldn’t help but look her daughter up and down, her satisfaction growing by the second—until something seemed to occur to her. Her brow creased ever so slightly.

“But tell me, what exactly was Frieda thinking raising you like this? I hear you’re working as a lawyer now? A woman should be pampered, darling—not slaving away in some dreary office. You’re your father’s daughter, after all.”

She winked at Hanley as she spoke, her playful charm impossible to ignore. Like a mischievous kitten, she made Hanley’s heart skip a beat, a teasing glint in her eyes that left him smiling despite himself.

At this, Gennifer flushed with embarrassment. “It’s not so hard for me, really.”

Her face lit up as she hurried to change the subject. “Mom, do you know Cassian? He’s the wealthiest man in all of Quinborough now. I… I like him.”

She ducked her head, cheeks glowing red.

“Oh?” Violet’s eyes sparkled with interest. “That’s my girl. You’ve got a good eye, going straight for the top.”

Gennifer squirmed under the praise, but Cassian’s chiseled features flashed through her mind, and her gaze turned dreamy.

In Quinborough—maybe even the whole country—Cassian was in a league of his own.

“But from the way you said it… you haven’t landed him yet, have you?” Violet teased, her voice laced with amusement.

Gennifer clung to her mother’s arm, pouting. “He’s just gotten divorced, but it’s only a matter of time.”

“Recently divorced?” Violet tapped a manicured finger on her chin. “With his status—Quinborough’s top billionaire—he must have women falling at his feet. Who was his ex-wife? To have snagged a man like that, she must be something.”

At the mention, Gennifer’s expression soured, annoyance flickering across her face.

“You know her. Frieda’s daughter—Ruby.”

The room fell silent, the tension at the table suddenly thick and uncomfortable.

After a long pause, Violet gave a sharp, dismissive laugh. “Ruby?”

She narrowed her eyes, pretty face twisting with disdain. “Don’t worry, Gennifer. What kind of daughter could Frieda have raised? That woman couldn’t outshine me back then, and now she’s just a pawn in our little game. I believe in you. You’re destined to be Mrs. Cassian, darling.”

She squeezed Gennifer’s hand for emphasis.

The hostess’s eyes lit up with curiosity and excitement. “Right this way!”

She shot the two of them a knowing look, almost giddy as she led them to their table.

After all, she’d worked at Quinborough’s top restaurant for years and had seen her share of celebrities and models. But never had she seen a couple so striking—both in looks and presence.

The man looked cool and aloof, but the way he gazed at the woman was pure devotion, like a loyal puppy desperate for her attention.

A bit flustered herself, the hostess seated them at the best window table. “These are our best seats, and it just so happens this one was left open.”

Ruby glanced over, catching the stiff movements of the people at the adjacent table.

She shrugged and nodded. “We’ll take it.”

Sylas, ever perceptive, noticed the tension at the nearby table too. His eyes narrowed as thoughts raced through his mind. He was starting to realize why Ruby had agreed to this dinner. Maybe he was just her “pawn” tonight, and the thought made his expression turn a little mournful.

Ruby, knowing all too well how sharp he was, reached up and patted his slumped shoulder, leaning in close to whisper with a chilly smile, “If you don’t want to eat, you’re free to leave.”

Her words were blunt, her smile a little too sharp—even Sylas’s favorite playful curve of her lips seemed frosted over.

But Sylas was too distracted by the warmth of her breath on his ear, lingering like a spark that set his cheeks ablaze. His back was even stiffer than before, his mind spinning from her touch.