Chapter 665

Preston Sinclair hesitated, his gaze lingering on Evelyn with unspoken words. She noticed his hesitation and rose gracefully, wrapping a cashmere shawl around her shoulders.

"Let me walk you out."

They reached the grand entrance of Sterling Manor. When she offered his car keys, Preston chuckled and shook his head. "My driver's already on his way. I just wanted a moment alone with you."

Evelyn paused, studying him.

His smile had always been his most disarming trait—warm enough to brighten the darkest room. She exhaled softly. "What is it?"

Preston's eyes crinkled. "Evelyn… may I call you that?"

She frowned slightly. "You never needed my permission."

Without her usual structured blazer, the shawl softened her edges, making her look less like the formidable CEO and more like the girl next door. The contrast tugged at Preston’s chest.

He lowered his head with a quiet laugh. "Calling you 'Ms. Sinclair' makes me feel like we're still strangers."

The confession slipped out before he could stop it.

Evelyn arched a brow. "We are strangers, for the most part." She had been clear—no mixed signals, no false hope.

His smile turned wry. "But we're friends now, aren't we?"

She gave a curt nod, realizing she'd misunderstood. "Then call me Evelyn."

The corner of his mouth lifted. He tested the name, savoring it. "Evelyn."

Something in his tone made her uneasy. His eyes, usually so composed, held an unfamiliar intensity—one that mirrored her own reflection back at her.

Then, without warning, he stepped forward and pulled her into an embrace.

His arms were solid, his warmth startling. By the time she registered the contact, he had already released her.

Her expression frosted over. "Mr. Sinclair—"

A bitter smile touched his lips. "Forgive me. It's just… frustrating, watching Nathan Blackwood treat you like that and being powerless to intervene." His voice dropped. "Jealousy got the better of me. Hit me if you must."

To his credit, Preston owned his mistake like a gentleman—no excuses, no manipulation.

Evelyn exhaled sharply. Nathan was infuriating, but Preston’s sudden vulnerability left her at a loss. Rejecting him outright felt cruel, especially with their business ties complicating things.

Noticing her conflict, Preston reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Don’t overthink it. I was just making excuses for bad behavior."

Relief flickered through her. "Don’t joke like that again, Mr. Sinclair."

Affection was dangerous. She didn’t need tenderness—not when she was still picking up the pieces of her heart.

Preston smirked, deliberately ignoring her warning. "If you won’t hit me, I should go."

His car had arrived.

"Safe travels," she said briskly, offering a polite smile.

He laughed. "Rushing me off like Oliver?"

Before she could react, he cupped her face and pressed a featherlight kiss to her forehead.

The gesture stunned her.

Preston saw it then—the tangled mess of emotions Nathan had left behind. Evelyn had loved him fiercely once, like a moth to flame. Even now, despite the ashes of that love, Nathan’s apologies and desperate attempts to atone still rattled her.

She heard him. But she couldn’t—wouldn’t—respond.

The pain he’d caused was a lesson etched in blood. Love was a luxury, not a necessity. And Evelyn refused to be fooled again.

Not by Nathan.

Not even by Preston.

He saw the war in her eyes—the harder she tried to forget Nathan, the more his shadow loomed. Her pulse raced, her face paling with quiet despair.

"Fall for someone else?" she muttered. "You, Mr. Sinclair?"

Preston held her gaze. "Would that be so impossible?"