Chapter 20-wife
freēwēbηovel.c૦m "August..."
Manfred’s seductive, devil-may-care gaze faltered the moment it clashed with August’s suddenly cold and sinister eyes. Just as he was about to step closer, he halted.
"Have a drink with me."
August deliberately ignored the heat in the other man’s eyes. With a trace of melancholy, he undid his suit jacket, tossed it carelessly onto the sofa, and walked to the bar cabinet. He took out two wine glasses and an unopened bottle of red wine. His movements were smooth, almost elegant, as he popped the cork and poured two shallow glasses. The deep crimson liquid shimmered beneath the glow of the crystal chandelier, casting a bewitching, intoxicating light through the clear glass.
"What’s wrong?"
Manfred leaped onto the bar counter in one fluid motion. The apartment featured a private bar and wine rack—after all, both he and August had a taste for solitude, and alcohol was their chosen companion.
"Manfred, do you think it’s wrong of me to use a woman to further my plans?"
August took a slow sip of wine. His dark, narrow eyes churned with conflicting thoughts—there was a flicker of hesitation, but it vanished quickly. Just the memory of the inhumane torment he had endured over the past six years in America made it impossible for him to view Derrick and his son with any kind of objectivity. Even feigning a smile around them felt nauseating.
If it hadn’t been for meeting Manfred back then, he might not even be alive now.
August turned to meet Manfred’s glittering, glass-like eyes. A hand landed lightly on his shoulder. Manfred gave him a smile that could topple empires, eyes brimming with certainty and quiet triumph.
"It’s just a warm-up game," he said coolly. "Don’t get soft on me now. She just had the misfortune of showing up at the wrong time."