Ex Cried as I Wed a Tycoon novel Chapter 138

“My apologies, I really am sorry. I got a bit carried away with the good mood and the drinks tonight. Really, I apologize,” Mr. Smith stammered, awkward and contrite.

“I hope there won’t be a next time. I’m quite particular about those things, so I hope you’ll understand,” Effie replied coolly.

With that, she didn’t give Mr. Smith another chance to speak. She turned and strode away, not looking back.

Mr. Smith watched her retreating figure, a brooding look flickering in his eyes.

Effie felt utterly disgusted.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that her hand was filthy. The moment Mr. Smith had reached out to grab her, she’d felt goosebumps race up her arms.

She dug a pack of wet wipes from her purse and scrubbed her hands, trying to wash away the sensation.

When she returned to the dining room, Lyman was waiting, his brow faintly furrowed, gaze fixed on the doorway. He was clearly looking for her.

Seeing her come back, his expression softened a little. He leaned closer and asked quietly, “What took you so long?”

Effie didn’t want to make a scene at the dinner table, so she just smiled and replied, “I just needed a breath of fresh air in the little garden out back.”

Lyman immediately picked up on the forced brightness in her smile, but given the company, he let it go. He simply gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Tired? Do you want to head back to the room and rest?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine. Mrs. Smith is still here—I’ll stay a bit longer.”

Not long after, Mr. Smith returned as well, cheeks flushed, his eyes unfocused. He was clearly even drunker than before. He sat down, but kept casting sidelong glances at Effie—his stare was unsettling, almost predatory.

In truth, Mr. Smith was feeling anxious. He worried Effie might tell Lyman what had happened earlier. He had looked forward to this business partnership for a long time—he couldn’t afford to screw it up now.

Still, just the thought that this woman belonged to Lyman, and that he might somehow win her over, filled him with a twisted sense of superiority.

Lyman’s expression darkened; he rapped his knuckles lightly on the table, his tone perfectly neutral. “Mr. Smith, let’s discuss the partnership details tomorrow. I think we should call it a night.”