The Divorced Military Queen Awakens (by Sadie Baxter) novel Chapter 507

Chapter 507 I Am Her Boyfriend

In Jexburgh’s elite circles, Weston’s name was synonymous with courtroom victories, especially in the high–stakes world of corporate finance.

“Goodness! That’s Weston Windore, the barrister! He’s really Ms. Wentworth’s boyfriend?”

“I’ve never heard her mention him before.”

Conversation splintered into a dozen cager whispers, speculation filling the air thicker than perfume.

“Ms. Wentworth, is Mr. Windore really your boyfriend?” the boss of their partner firm asked, stepping forward with undisguised curiosity.

Laura forced a brittle smile, the corners of her mouth trembling as though the expression itself were made of glass. From the edge of her vision, she stole a glance at Weston standing calmly beside her.

She knew that to contradict the claim now would be to strike Weston across the face in front of everyone, and polite society loved nothing more than a public scandal.

“Y–Yeah, that’s right,” Laura managed, her voice thin enough to slip through a keyhole.

When she had first agreed to a year–long arrangement with Weston, her plan had been simple: appear on his arm at a few gatherings among his circle, then melt back into anonymity on her own side of town.

Weston’s dramatic declaration had shattered that hope; the room now thrummed with attention, and the notion of keeping low became as impossible as hiding a fire in a velvet box.

She could already picture the pitying eyes she would collect a year from now, once their contract ended, and how she would be forced to invent yet another tidy excuse for yet another artificial heartbreak.

“You’re truly fortunate, landing a boyfriend as formidable as Mr. Windore!”

“With him at your side, no company in Jexburgh will dare haul Azure Technologies into court again!”

“Exactly! With a boyfriend like that, Ms. Wentworth can swagger through the whole market!”

Laura kept up the parade of strained smiles until the muscles around her mouth began to cramp and twitch.

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Only after she finally escaped the orbit of well–wishers did Laura seize Weston by the sleeve and drag him toward a quiet alcove behind a marble column. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“Thought I’d drop by to check on my nephew,” Weston replied, his tone cool as slate.

“Well, Harlan’s already left. Why haven’t you?”

Weston’s gaze locked on her. “Laura Wentworth, are you that eager to see me gone?”

She rolled her eyes. Yes, I am.

“Does even the great barrister Mr. Windore need to hunt for a girlfriend tonight?” she asked.

“I told you, I already have a girlfriend. As to why I’m still here? I’m worried she’ll sneak a little extracurricular romance the moment I turn around, so I have to keep her in sight.”

Laura’s molars ground together. Sneak around behind you? We’re nothing more than a signed

contract!

“Relax. Even in a contractual relationship, I stick to basic decency. If I ever look for another man, it’ll be after our agreement ends. I don’t intend to seem two–timing to whoever comes

next.”

Weston’s face darkened a shade. “You’re that keen on finding a new boyfriend?”

“I’m not exactly young anymore. In two years, I’ll be thirty. Wanting a boyfriend isn’t a crime.” She shot him a look.

Without warning, Weston stepped closer, the air around him seeming to compress until it pressed against her ribs.

“What are you doing?” Laura’s unease spiked as she shuffled backward.

Something about Weston in that moment felt unmistakably off, as though she were staring at a stranger wearing his face.

“So to you, I’m just a plaything?” he asked, advancing until her back hit the wall, leaving no

room to retreat.

Laura swallowed a startled cough. He heard every word I’d just said?

Trapped in the corner, Laura found both of Weston’s hands braced on either side of her shoulders—an escape route sealed shut.

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She’d always thought this dramatic move looked charming on TV dramas.

Living it herself felt mortifying beyond measure.

Weston bent his head until his breath fanned across her cheeks. “Hmm? Cat got your tongue?”

“Yes, and what of it!” Laura snapped, her head whipping up like a cornered fox finally baring its teeth. “Isn’t this–us–nothing more than a game to you, anyway?”

Weston’s expression darkened, the chandelier’s gilded glow chiseling unforgiving shadows along his cheekbones. If all he wanted was a casual thrill, he would have stayed away tonight and spared himself her poisonous barbs. There were scores of women eager for a fleeting dalliance. Why pursue the one who had once cast him off with a curt phone call?

Laura lifted a hand and planted her palm firmly against Weston Windore’s broad chest. She gave two brisk shoves, but the man might as well have been carved from granite; not a single inch yielded beneath her push.

She shoved his chest–once, twice–but he stood immovable, a marble statue fixed to the polished floor.

“Step aside, Weston. I’m co–hosting tonight’s event, and in five minutes, I have to be on stage to run the raffle,” Laura hissed, frustration flashing across her face.

She flicked a glance toward the wall clock behind him; fewer than three minutes remained before her cue.

Weston’s eyes glinted. “And if I refuse to let you go?”

“What is that supposed to mean? Do you want everyone walking in here to see us like this?” She frowned, searching his face for reason.