“You’re not the same,” Stella answered before she even realized it. As she saw Weston’s expression shift, she quickly changed the subject. “Where are you taking me?”
Weston didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he lifted his hand and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, his eyes lingering on her red lips. A fleeting, almost predatory look crossed his face as he leaned in, gently biting her lip once more.
“Since you have nothing to do this afternoon…” he murmured, his voice low and suggestive. “Then stay with me.”
Stella had never expected Weston to bring her to see his friends so openly, and it left her feeling a little uneasy. The sound of billiard balls clacking against each other echoed from the pool hall, breaking the otherwise quiet atmosphere. It wasn’t crowded, but the people here exuded an air of sophistication and power.
When they entered, a young waiter immediately approached them. “Mr. Ford,” he said, with a respectful bow. “Please, follow me.”
Stella followed Weston, confused and slightly nervous. It wasn’t until he led her to a familiar face that she began to understand why she was here. “Did you bring her?” Xavier said, sinking a ball into the pocket before straightening up and walking toward them. His gaze fell on Stella, and she instantly recognized him—the man who had left the girl stranded on the highway.
Xavier’s gaze was appraising, and Stella remembered that he had brought the girl back to the city, just like he was doing now. Although he wasn’t surprised Weston had brought her to this place, he was puzzled. Weston had never brought a woman to a venue like this. He had brought Guinevere before, but that was because she was one of the players.
“This is…” Xavier began, his curiosity piqued.
Before Stella could respond, Weston stepped protectively in front of her, blocking Xavier’s view. “Elle,” Weston said curtly, as if that was all there was to say.
Xavier raised an eyebrow, sensing Weston’s possessiveness. He had never seen Weston so protective over a woman before. The usual, condescending look softened as Xavier extended his hand toward Stella. “I’m Weston’s uncle, Xavier. We’ve met.”
Stella nodded, recalling their previous encounter. “I remember. You left a deep impression on me.”
Xavier smiled inwardly at her response, noting the strength in her demeanor. She was a woman with a strong sense of self-preservation, something he admired. He leaned in slightly, his voice smooth and deliberate. “You and Weston are…?”
He didn’t look at Weston, choosing instead to keep his attention on Stella, as though probing her for an answer.
Stella hesitated for a moment, the weight of his question pressing on her. “A friend,” she replied, her voice steady, but her eyes betraying a flicker of uncertainty.
The moment she spoke, she could feel a gaze on her. Without needing to turn, she knew exactly who it was. Weston’s silent intensity was palpable.
She hadn’t said anything wrong, she reassured herself. To the outside world, they were friends. It wasn’t like she could openly claim to be Weston’s lover—especially not in front of his uncle.
Xavier, who was well aware of Weston’s history with Guinevere, had deliberately asked the question with the intention of teasing Stella. He had no intention of prying further, though he sensed Stella’s reluctance.
Stella wasn’t fond of the Ford family, and Xavier, having grown up surrounded by women, could read her emotions easily. He understood the unspoken tension and chose not to press further. With a flick of his wrist, he turned his focus back to the pool table, lining up his next shot with ease.
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