The Divorced Military Queen Awakens (by Sadie Baxter) novel Chapter 508

Chapter 508 He Alone Was Enough

Weston’s fingers toyed with a loose curl at Laura’s check. “We’re dating, remember? If someone catches us looking affectionate, they’ll just think we’re a devoted couple. Nothing scandalous.

about that.”

Devoted, my foot. We aren’t being tender at all. You’re simply a barricade in a tailored suit.

“Weston, move now or I stop playing nice,” Laura warned, her eyes sparking.

Tonight’s mixer included executives from a partner firm; she would not create a scene in front

of them.

“Oh? And precisely how are you going to do that?” Weston asked, voice low, almost amused.

Just then, the host at the far end of the hall tapped the microphone, signaling the start of the evening’s raffle.

If she didn’t hurry to the stage now, she would be humiliated beyond recovery.

“Like this!” Laura declared, bracing herself.

Her heel came down hard on Weston’s meticulously shined shoe, the crack of impact swallowed by music and chatter. While he recoiled, pain flickering across his face, she used both palms to shove him aside and slipped free of his reach.

Weston lunged, fingers stretching to catch her wrist before she vanished into the crowd.

A lean figure darted between them and knocked Weston’s hand away. “Good evening, Mr. Windore. Ms. Wentworth has business to attend to. Please don’t detain her,” the newcomer said evenly.

Laura shot Harvey a quick, grateful nod before turning toward the stage. She did not expect to see him here.

From the stage, the host’s bright voice rang out, “Now, let us welcome Ms. Wentworth of Azure Technologies to draw tonight’s prizes!”

Heart racing, Laura hurried up the steps.

The spotlight spilled over her, bleaching the rest of the hall into darkness until she alone

seemed to exist.

She wore a perfectly fitted navy suit, the cut sharp enough to suggest command. Long, wavy

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hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing a vibrant face now composed, almost regal. Gone was the shy, doll–like coed; in her place stood a woman of poised authority. (D)

Life had dragged her through every alleyway of ambition. She had bargained, negotiated, and fought to build Azure Technologies into the force it was–a feat impossible for anyone naïve. Yet somehow, amid the grind, she had preserved a sliver of something unspoiled.

That fragment glimmered now in her eyes–clear, luminous, untouched by the cynicism swirling around her.

Watching from below, Weston felt time fold back on itself. It was those same unguarded eyes that had first snared his attention on campus years ago.

Other women who claimed to desire him had carried hunger–status, wealth, proximity to power–coursing through their stares. Laura’s gaze, in contrast, had held nothing but uncomplicated affection, as if he alone were enough.

He had yielded to her persistence partly out of curiosity, partly because her tenacity amused him. He wanted to know whether closeness would cloud that purity, whether she, too, would eventually look at him with calculation. She never did–not even the day she ended things and walked away, leaving his pride in pieces.

Harvey swallowed hard. “Mr. Windore, are you truly Ms. Wentworth’s boyfriend?”

Weston flicked his gaze toward Harvey, recognizing the man with a faint jolt. Once, Laura had hired the young man for a product launch, nothing more than a living mannequin under the lights. And now–apparently–he worked inside her company, moving freely through hallways Weston had never seen.

Weston let out a short, scornful laugh. “I thought my public declaration a moment ago made things perfectly clear. Or do you imagine I was acting? Tell me, Harvey, since when did you and Laura become so… familiar?”

“We’re… Well, we’re friends, I suppose,” Harvey admitted, his cheeks warming.

The word friends knifed through Weston’s composure. His face cooled another degree, mind sprinting down dark corridors of possibility. Will this model soon stand closer, touch her, steal the private gestures that once belonged to me–kisses, embraces, the slow exploration of skin?

A memory flared: Laura drunk to the point of slurred delight, mistaking him for a male model, clawing at his shirt, laughing into his chest.

Had she treated Harvey the same way? The question sharpened his stare until it felt like a blade pressed against Harvey’s throat.

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“If you truly are Ms. Wentworth’s boyfriend, and if you genuinely care for her, then please… please don’t break her heart again. Don’t abandon her the way you did when she needed you most,” Harvey said, mustering his courage.

“What exactly do you mean by ‘don’t hurt her‘? Tell me, Harvey, has she been recounting our history to you?”

Harvey’s mouth opened and closed, the words tangling on his tongue. “I… I just…”

Weston advanced, the polished tips of his shoes clicking once against the floor. “Just what? Exactly what right do you think you have to lecture me?”

“Mr. Windore, I know I have no right. I’m only worried about Ms. Wentworth…” Harvey stumbled back in fear.

The chill in Weston’s eyes hardened into something vicious, a silent threat that pinned Harvey in place. Harvey’s knees buckled; he missed his footing and landed on the polished marble with an undignified thud.