The Divorced Military Queen Awakens (by Sadie Baxter) novel Chapter 307

Chapter 307 Dinner Meeting Tension

Chapter 307 Dinner Meeting Tension

Stop right there. For heaven’s sake, Laura, where is your mind galloping off to?

Weston’s voice cut through the cabin. “Staring at me like that–regretting the breakup?”

“Not even close.” Laura yanked her gaze back to the windshield. Decisively ending things back then was in her book, the single smartest move she had ever made.

Had she hesitated, she might have fallen for that dangerously handsome face all over again.

Weston leaned in, his voice a blade cutting through the hum outside the windshield. “Do yourself a favor, darling. When we sit down, bury whatever pride is left. No one at that table can know you dumped me without regret.”

Laura shot him a sideways glare, lashes flicking upward like drawn blades. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

. Weston settled back, expression unmoved, eyes catching reflections of neon rain. “It means you’d better act like breaking up was the worst mistake of your life, and that right now you are hopelessly in love with me.”

Laura’s brow tightened. “Weston, it’s only a dinner meeting. Surely we don’t have to go that far.

He did not blink. “We do,” he said, the words striking like frost on glass.

The sedan rolled to a graceful stop before a private club, its headlights washing the limestone façade in pale silver. Laura stepped out first, heels tapping like nervous metronomes. Weston matched her stride, guiding her through bronze doors and down a hush–carpeted corridor into an intimate private suite.

The moment they crossed the threshold, a jovial voice rose above the murmurs. “Mr. Windore, at last. We thought you were going to stand us up.”

A second guest, eyes sharp with curiosity, tilted his glass toward Laura. “And this lady is?”

Weston slipped an arm around her waist with practiced ease. “My girlfriend, Laura Wentworth,” he announced.

An electric ripple traveled through the room. Stares flicked her way–some surprised, some amused, some unreadable shadows of something else entirely.

Weston began the social waltz, naming each face–finance magnates, media brokers, consultants–drawing invisible threads between Laura and the power network that fueled Jexburgh.

Listening, Laura felt a quiet jolt run through her. These were not ordinary names; each belonged to a pillar in Jexburgh’s elite circles.

Her own start–up had turned a tidy profit, yet in front of these titans, she suddenly felt like a freshman who had wandered into a graduate seminar. On any other night, meeting even one of them would have taken months of strategic networking and an improbable stroke of luck. Yet Weston was serving her the entire directory on a silver platter, as though opening doors were as effortless as breathing.

Laura offered handshakes and warm nods, her manners precise, her smile measured, determined not to

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Chapter 307 Dinner Meeting Tension

betray the churn in her stomach.

Someone chuckled. “Never thought the great Mr. Windore had a girlfriend. We were this close to pairing you with Serena here.”

Conversation tilted, chairs turned. Every gaze now settled on a woman whose presence felt like moonlight drawn indoors.

The woman, Serena Wynn, wore an ivory suit dress, its clean lines accentuating a cool, almost austere

grace.

She offered a mild smile. “Oh, you exaggerate. I could never measure up to Mr. Windore. He’s always treated me like a junior colleague. Besides, Ms. Wentworth’s name rings a bell–it sounds a lot like his ex’s

That single remark shifted the atmosphere yet again; curious, probing stares converged on Laura as though she were suddenly under a theater spotlight.

In that moment, Laura understood why Weston had staged their little pre–game briefing in the car. He was drafting her as a human shield against incoming admirers.

Weston lifted his glass, voice casual. “Laura and I dated once, drifted apart, then crossed paths again. Turns out the feelings never left, so here we are–this time, I doubt we’ll ever split.” He looked at her, eyes steady

What a joke. In a year we’ll be strangers again.

Still, Laura managed a gentle laugh. “Yes, getting a second chance with Weston has made me incredibly happy,” she said, forcing warmth into every syllable.

Someone clapped their hands. “Then let’s toast to the two of them.”

Chairs scraped, glasses lifted, the room quickly filling with warm amber reflections and the soft music of

toasts.

Laura limited herself to two small sips, then excused herself under the pretext of freshening up.

After washing her hands, she stepped back into the corridor–and nearly collided with Serena, who seemed to be waiting.

From the woman’s rigid posture and the impatient tap of her heel, Laura could tell she had been standing – here for one reason only: waiting for her.

“What is it?” Laura asked, eyebrow arched high, voice cool as glass.

“You’re not good enough for Mr. Windore,” Serena said, her words sharp and precise, each syllable aiming to wound. “I heard you’re nothing but a nouveau–riche upstart. You hurt him once–left him bleeding. How dare you crawl back now?”

Laura rolled her eyes, amused by the revisionist history on display. Back then, I was the one left bleeding, not him.

“Whether I’m good enough for Weston is between him and me. What business is it of yours? Who exactly are you to lecture me?”

Serena lifted her chin. “I’m speaking as someone who cares about Mr. Windore. I have no idea what you

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