chapter1186

The man was none other than Alaric.

He had a look that set him apart from the crowd, with piercing, narrow eyes that seemed to hold

secrets of their own, and a sinfully handsome face that blurred the lines between masculine charm and

feminine allure.

His presence was magnetic, a walking invitation to both envy and desire, and there was no mistaking

him for anyone else.

By his side trailed three women. The one keeping pace with him, Hertha recognized immediately—it

was Angelina, with whom she had crossed swords just a few days ago.

Trailing behind were two more women. One of them, a young lady, was all too familiar to Hertha. It was

Georgia, the rake-thin beauty whose advances Alaric had declined twice with Hertha's help. Despite

her high-end fashion and meticulously applied makeup, the gauntness of her cheeks betrayed a certain

world-weariness.

Georgia was arm-in-arm with a middle-aged woman, dripping in jewelry and dressed to the nines,

obviously a woman of wealth. Hertha surmised that this must be Georgia's mother.

What could bring Alaric and his mother, along with Georgia and her own, to a restaurant like this? A

brief flicker of thought and Hertha realized—they were likely discussing a union between the two

families.

While Hertha's gaze lingered on Alaric's entourage, she caught his sharp eyes glancing her way. In that

split second of eye contact, she swiftly diverted her gaze, feigning ignorance of his presence.

Her hand, hidden beneath the table, clenched tightly as she turned to face Spencer with a forced smile.

"There's nothing like hitting a bar for a drink and some music now and then. If you're into painting,

Spencer, I could show you a trick or two when I'm free."

She had intended to shock him with her supposed vices and send him packing, but Alaric's presence

had thrown her off. The fiery words she had prepared got stuck in her throat, and she found herself

speaking to Spencer with a demure tone that masked her inner turmoil.

Spencer, who had initially been taken aback by her mention of bars, thinking her to be a party girl,

relaxed when she continued. His scholarly smile returned, soft eyes behind his glasses offering a look

of gentle understanding, as he tried to cover his brief lapse in composure.

"Then let me express my thanks in advance, Ms. Kensington. I'll toast you," Spencer said, pouring

coffee into Hertha's cup and raising his in a toast.

Hertha responded in kind, clinking cups with Spencer and downing her coffee in one go—a bold

gesture that he matched by finishing his own.

Beneath the table, her hand found Thalassa's leg and gripped it tightly, seeking to steady her nerves

and resist the urge to look back at Alaric. Co?tent of Drаmа?ovels.cоm

Since Hertha had resolved to act as if she didn't know Alaric, Thalassa followed suit, pretending not to

recognize him either.