A Summer with My Bitter Rival - Chapter 4
Chapter 2.2 Night of the Yacht Party (2)
The final guests of the party had arrived. A couple made their way onto the deck, moving with the confidence of people who believed they were the stars of the event.
The moment Emeline recognized one of them, her heart sank.
The man escorting Count Fendine’s daughter—Lady Fendine’s fiancé.
He casually surveyed the crowd and then flashed a dazzling smile meant to captivate everyone.
“Oh my…”
Even the women who had once gossiped about his countless scandals fell silent in that moment, all collectively holding their breath.
His blond hair was neatly styled, and his sharp, striking features were as bold and impressive as his golden locks. He had the polished look of a nobleman raised with strict discipline, but the permanent smile he wore made him seem oddly carefree.
That contrast, as strange as it was, only made him more captivating.
Emeline couldn’t pull her eyes away from the familiar face she hadn’t seen in four years. Her lashes fluttered with unease.
‘It’s been so long. I haven’t seen you in three days, but it feels like months. Didn’t you miss me? I couldn’t even sleep, thinking of you.’
The uninvited memories came flooding back. His gentle smile now overlapped with the one she remembered from the past.
With a shyness he rarely showed, he had once whispered to her,
‘I just… couldn’t stop thinking about you. I wanted to see you.’
His voice from the past echoed in her ears.
Her heart began to race. It was as if she’d been thrust back into that moment in time.
And then, his gaze swept over the crowd, landing on her. For a fleeting second, it looked like his eyes narrowed.
Startled, she quickly looked away.
Was it her imagination, or had he really been looking at her?
Emeline hurriedly urged Matisse, trying her best to appear unaffected.
“Let’s not concern ourselves with them, my lord. Let’s go.”
“Of course.”
Together, they moved to a different spot on the deck, and Emeline took a breath of fresh air, trying to steady her mind. But Zenon’s presence seemed to follow her wherever she went, his scandals trailing after him like a shadow.
It wasn’t long before a conversation nearby caught her attention.
“Lady Fendine truly is fortunate. I heard she’s going to Elvarto’s opera house with Lord Zenon next week.”
Emeline, sipping her champagne, found herself unintentionally listening in on their conversation.
“Oh my, next week…? Isn’t that when they’ll be performing that romantic play everyone’s been talking about?”
“Yes, they’ll be attending on opening night. My fiancé, Mr. Heref, finds such plays dreadfully boring and refuses to go.”
“My husband’s the same way, but Lord Zenon certainly knows how to win a woman’s heart. He’s quite the romantic…”
“Well, I’d still prefer a man who’s a bit aloof over one surrounded by endless scandals.”
“That may be true, but… with a face like that, maybe just once wouldn’t hurt.”
The ladies fanned themselves as they giggled with flushed cheeks.
Listening in on their conversation, Emeline inwardly snorted.
‘Didn’t he once tell me that he thought those plays were ridiculous?’
He had caused scandals with Emeline and every other woman he’d met, yet now he was suddenly serious about his fiancée?
A real romantic hero, isn’t he?
While she had spent the last four years in torment, he seemed to be living his best life.
Emeline emptied her champagne glass and cast a glance in his direction. She wanted to take a quick look at how well Lord Zenon was getting along with his fiancée. But just as she turned her head, by some strange coincidence, her eyes met his.
A pair of green eyes, shrouded in darkness, were calmly watching her.
Even though his fiancée was happily chatting beside him, his attention was solely fixed on Emeline, the smile on his face nearly gone.
Emeline froze for a moment before quickly looking away.
Why is he looking this way?
A feeling of unease washed over her.
Sensing her discomfort, Matisse asked, “Is everything alright?”
“Oh… I thought I heard someone calling my name. I must’ve been mistaken.”
Emeline smoothly deflected the question.
Time passed.
While Matisse was momentarily occupied with other guests, she found herself unconsciously glancing back in his direction again—drawn by the unease she felt before.
And once again, their eyes met.
This time, his fiancée, Lady Fendine, was nowhere to be seen.
With one hand tucked into his pocket and a cigar in his mouth, he stared at her, just as he had before. His bold, unwavering gaze sent a chill down Emeline’s spine.
It was too deliberate, too prolonged to be a coincidence. There was purpose in his gaze.
Emeline furrowed her brows. She could have laughed at the absurdity. He was the one who had abandoned her, and now he had the audacity to look at her with those dark, brooding eyes? What was his game?
‘Are you regretting it now? Or are you hoping that if I show you even a hint of longing, you think you can toy with me again?’
Reaching this conclusion, she let out a small scoff.
Acting on impulse, Emeline latched onto Matisse’s arm, and he, always quick to pick up on cues, politely ended his conversation.
Emeline cast a sidelong glance at Zenon before looking up at Matisse.
‘Too bad, Zenon. If you got my letter, then you should already know. But if you still want to see it for yourself… well, I have nothing to hide.’
With a subtle smile, Emeline stepped closer as she gazed up at Matisse affectionately.
“Lord Renier, I hear there’ll be fireworks soon. That would be the perfect time to make our relationship public, don’t you think?”
When all eyes would be on them.
They both shared the same goal: to put on the perfect display of their engagement.
Emeline smiled softly as she added,
“Will you kiss me then?”
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