Chapter 218
“Surely even someone as busy as you has time for a meal, right?” Garry stood up, smoothing the front of his suit jacket. “All I wanted was to invite you to dinner.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t make a habit of dining with strangers.” Briony could tell he wasn’t here for anything important, and she had no interest in arguing. “You should go. I have work to do.”
With that, she turned and walked out of the lounge.
Garry, however, didn’t leave.
He sat back down on the sofa, picked up the magazine he’d been leafing through earlier, and idly flipped a
page.
It was barely three o’clock.
Once Briony stepped into the restoration studio, she was fully absorbed in her work.
Outside, rain drizzled steadily against the windows.
Time always seemed to fly by when she was focused.
On rainy days, dusk came sooner than expected.
By five, the world beyond the windows was already shrouded in darkness.
The city’s neon lights flickered on, painting streaks of color across the wet glass.
A knock sounded at the door–Hannah.
“Come in,” Briony called, setting her tools aside and glancing toward the entrance.
Hannah slipped in, shutting the door behind her, her expression exasperated. “So, um, Mr. Ferguson still hasn’t
left.”
Briony blinked in surprise.
She checked the clock.
Five o’clock.
Three hours…
He really has nothing better to do, does he?
Briony pulled off her safety glasses and rubbed her brow. “If your shift is over, don’t worry about him. Just head home.”
“Alright!” Hannah grinned in relief. “I’m clocking out then!”
“Drive safe. It’s wet out there,” Briony reminded her.
“I will! You too, Briony!”
Briony just nodded.
One by one, Hannah and the rest of the staff packed up and left for the evening.
Briony had no desire to go out and face Garry, so she decided to put in a little overtime.
She was deliberately avoiding him.
And Garry, of course, knew it.
By half past five, he finally emerged from the lounge and made his way to the studio door.
He knocked.
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Briony heard it, but purposely ignored him, turning up the gentle background music to drown out any further interruptions.
Garry picked up on the message. The corners of his mouth quirked upward as he listened to the music drifting through the door.
It was obvious she was doing it on purpose.
But instead of being annoyed, he just smiled–his interest only deepening.
Briony worked straight through until six–thirty.
She glanced outside.
Through the frosted glass doors, she could see the studio was empty.
She took off her safety goggles, tidied up her bench, slipped out of her work coat, and headed for the exit.
The sprawling studio was quiet.
A golden retriever pup, curled up in its bed, perked up as s oon as Briony appeared, tail wagging furiously.
Briony walked straight to her office, shrugged into her coat, grabbed her bag and car keys, and headed out.
The puppy trotted over to her. She crouched to give him a fond pat. “I’m heading home now. See you tomorrow.” The puppy whined softly, reluctant but obedient, watching as Briony walked away.
She locked the main doors and turned–only to jump when she saw Garry waiting in the hallway.
He chuckled at her startled reaction, the cigar between his lips curling up in a grin. “Am I really that scary?”
Briony’s expression frosted over. “Mr. Ferguson, this really isn’t funny.”
“Isn’t it?” Garry stubbed out his cigar and tossed it in a nearby trash can. “Personally, I think it’s pretty fun. I have a thing for chasing after cool, untouchable beauties like you, Ms. Kensington. It does wonders for a man’s ego.”
Briony didn’t dignify that with a response.
She headed to the elevator and pressed the button.
When the doors slid open, Briony stepped inside. Garry followed her in.
She ignored him, pressed the button for the parking level, and stood silently. With security cameras in the elevator, she wasn’t worried.
“So, you and Stewart were at city hall today?”
Briony glanced up, meeting Garry’s eyes in the mirrored elevator wall.
“Were you following me, Mr. Ferguson?”
“Following is such a harsh word. Let’s just say I pay close attention to you, Ms. Kensington.”
Briony frowned.
She didn’t like dealing with Garry, but every time they’d met, she’d sensed the tension between him and Stewart–a barely concealed hostility.
She asked, “What exactly is your relationship with Stewart?”
“We used to be comrades.”
Briony’s eyes widened. “Comrades?”
Garry grinned. “Looks like Stewart never told you what he was up to overseas those two years, huh? That’s
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interesting.”
Briony had no patience for his cryptic tone.
The elevator dinged. As soon as the doors opened, she strode out.
Garry called after her. “Stewart’s not going to let you go that easily.”
Briony paused, turning to face him. “What do you know?”
His eyes sparkled with amusement. “I know all Stewart’s secrets. Trust me, he’s selfish, possessive, and obsessed with control. If he doesn’t want to let you go, you’ll never escape that marriage.”
“He’s about to marry Rosita,” Briony shot back, frowning. “No matter how powerful he is, he can’t commit bigamy!”
Garry’s smile turned sly. “You’re too naïve, Ms. Kensington. If he’s bold enough to plan a wedding with another woman while refusing to divorce you, that means he’s already worked out how to handle it.”
Briony gripped her bag tighter. “You’re not telling me this out of kindness. What do you want?
Garry stepped closer, his tone low. “You really are as sharp as I thought.”
Briony took a step back.
He stopped, the handsome lines of his face somehow radiating danger.
“I can help you get a divorce,” he said softly. “And when it’s over–marry me.”
