Regretting the Wife He Threw Away novel Chapter 45

Stewart’s brows drew together ever so slightly as he glanced down at Rosita.

Sensing his gaze, Rosita looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, her voice soft and sweet. “These heels are killing my feet today.”

Stewart didn’t reply. Instead, he turned his head, looking over at Briony.

Briony stared straight ahead, her expression cold and distant. As she brushed past Stewart, she didn’t spare him so much as a glance.

Stewart’s sharp gaze followed her, but his dark eyes betrayed nothing.

Rosita slowly let go of his arm.

“Wow, that woman who just walked by—she’s gorgeous!”

Peyton whistled. “I was thinking about giving it a shot and chatting her up, but then I saw her head into that private suite with Mack and his crew. Those guys are notorious for how they treat women—way too risky for me. Last thing I need is to catch something. Forget it.”

Hearing this, Cedric Clarke instinctively looked at Stewart.

Stewart’s face was unreadable, his expression as cool and composed as ever.

Still, Cedric couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more going on between Stewart and Briony.

It was just something men could sense about each other.

“You don’t know a thing—stop talking nonsense.” Cedric shot a look at Jason. “That’s Mack’s sister. Their relationship’s not exactly great, though.”

“The Kensingtons?” Jason’s eyes widened in surprise. “You mean that old-money family that treats women like bargaining chips? I can’t believe Mack’s sister is that stunning. How did they manage to keep her hidden all this time?”

“Ms. Kensington actually cut ties with her family ages ago,” Rosita said gently, glancing at Jason. “Jason, she’s had a really tough time. Please, don’t give her a hard time.”

“Oh!” Jason suddenly remembered. “She’s the one all over the news lately—‘the disowned daughter of the Kensingtons,’ right?”

“Jason!” Rosita’s tone turned sharp, her brows knitting together. “Don’t call her that. She and her mother have both been through a lot.”

Jason scoffed, a crooked grin on his face. “She doesn’t seem too pitiful to me, not if she has the guts to go after Stewart.”

As he spoke, he dialed, then sauntered off, phone pressed to his ear. “Hey, babe…”

—

Stewart and Rosita took the elevator down to the parking garage, where their assistant, Carl Shaw, pulled the car around.

Carl got out and opened the back door for them.

Rosita slid gracefully into the back seat.

But Stewart didn’t follow. He just stood there, car door open, unmoving.

Rosita looked up, puzzled. “Aren’t you getting in?”

“I want Carl to take you home first,” Stewart said quietly, his voice low.

Rosita froze, staring at him in surprise, her own voice barely above a whisper. “Stewart, are you going to see Ms. Kensington?”