Chapter 640

Lucas Sterling was the kind of man who made perfection look effortless.

Hardworking. Refined. A pedigree that could silence any critic.

Even the way he handled a steak knife was mesmerizing—graceful, precise, like he'd been trained by royalty.

Natalie Beaumont blinked, caught off guard. Then she smirked. "Lucas has always been the most beautiful man I've ever seen."

Evelyn Sinclair felt the weight behind those words. There was something raw in Natalie's voice, something tied to Lucas.

And Roman? Just a prop. A shield.

Evelyn tilted her head. "How did you meet Tristan Whitmore's ex-wife, anyway?"

That disastrous wedding reception had left her curious.

Natalie shrugged. "She used to attend events as his wife. People ignored her—Tristan never cared enough to change that. I felt bad. We ended up talking."

Evelyn nodded. "Makes sense."

"She's pitiful," Natalie admitted. Then, softer: "I know you mean well, promoting her firm. But be careful. If this backfires—"

Evelyn smiled.

Only a real friend would say that.

The kitchen door swung open. Lucas emerged, carrying a platter of grilled steak.

Broad shoulders. Sharp jawline. Arms that could double as sculpture.

Evelyn rolled her eyes. "My brother’s face is a crime against women. Why couldn’t he be a bald, two-hundred-pound mess?"

Natalie burst out laughing.

Lucas shot Evelyn a glare and tossed his apron aside. "Disappointed I wasn’t born ugly?"

Evelyn grinned. "Jules, his steak is worth the ego."

Natalie moved to the table.

Lucas pulled out her chair before she could touch it.

Evelyn yanked her own seat out. This is how he treats his sister?

Lucas sat beside Natalie, slicing her steak with the precision of a surgeon.

Roman, seated next to Evelyn, coughed awkwardly. "Need help with yours?"

Evelyn waved him off. "I’ve got it."

Lucas gave her a look but still swapped plates with her, his movements smooth.

Dinner was laughter and wine. Lucas refilled Natalie’s glass, nudged side dishes toward her, asked if she liked the seasoning.

When the plates were cleared, Evelyn leaned in.

"Jules," she whispered. "Is my brother courting you?"

Natalie stiffened.

Evelyn pressed. "He likes you. Do you still like him?"

Natalie toyed with the jade pendant at her throat. "He seems reckless, but he’s serious about love. I’ve never seen him learn to cook for a woman. Or stress over gifts. Or use his sister as an excuse to invite her to dinner." She met Evelyn’s gaze. "Should I consider him?"

Evelyn smirked. Time to play wingman.

Silence stretched.

Then Natalie laughed—soft, bittersweet. She pinched Evelyn’s cheek. "Lil E, meet Adrian Prescott. My new boyfriend."

A glass shattered in the kitchen.