Trapped in a Secret Marriage with a Dangerous Billionaire - Chapter 109

Chapter 109: Finding an Opportunity

Asher clasped Abigail’s hand firmly, guiding her toward the dance floor with purpose. Halfway there, however, she planted her feet and tried to tug her hand free, her eyes meeting his daringly.

“I don’t want to dance with you,” she said, her tone calm but resolute.

He arched a brow, his grip tightening briefly before he released her hand. “Perhaps next time, we shouldn’t pair up if you’re so against it dancing with me,” he said smoothly, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. “Or would you prefer I find someone else to dance with?”

Not to his surprise, Abigail agreed immediately, her chin lifting. “Go ahead.” Her disinterest was as clear as day, and her nonchalant shrug only fuelled his determination.

Asher’s smirk deepened. “No chance. I’m a man of honour and I will only dance with my partner tonight.” Without waiting for her agreement, he took her hand again, his grip firm yet careful, and continued toward the dance floor.

Despite her protests, Abigail found herself swept into the swirl of music and movement. Her frustration simmered beneath the surface as she begrudgingly followed his lead. She would be causing a scene if she tried to force herself out of his grasp.

—

Meanwhile, Olivia wandered through the crowd, her sharp eyes scanning for Owen. Her patience was running thin. “Where could he have gone?” she muttered under her breath as she weaved through the elegantly dressed guests.

Just as she was about to give up, she caught sight of him near the door, his unmistakable figure accompanied by another woman. Olivia’s steps faltered, and a cold knot formed in her stomach.

Her gaze darkened as she trailed them quietly, exiting the ballroom and stepping into a dimly lit small hallway that led to a sculptured balcony. The narrow space stretched out in silence, save for the faint sound of giggles echoing from the balcony. Olivia’s fists clenched at her sides as she followed the sound, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor.

What she saw made her breath hitch. There, partially concealed by the shadows, was Owen, his lips pressed firmly against the woman’s as his hands cradled her face. Their masks were still on, but there was no mistaking the heated intimacy of the moment.

Olivia’s heart thundered in her chest, a mixture of fury and humiliation surging through her veins. Backing into the shadows, she swallowed hard and clenched her fists. “That scum,” she hissed under her breath.

Unable to watch any longer, Olivia turned and hurried back to the ballroom, her mind racing. This wasn’t just betrayal; it was blatant disrespect. Every ounce of self-worth she clung to felt like it was being chipped away by Owen’s shameless actions.

That man just didn’t know how to hold back as long as he was disrespecting her in public without caring that she was there.

—

Stepping back into the ballroom, Olivia forced herself to straighten her spine, masking her agitation behind a composed façade. Her gaze landed on Aurora, who sat at a table alone with Nene, standing quietly behind her.

Drawing in a steady breath, Olivia smoothed her dress and approached with a fawning smile. “Hello, Mrs. Scott. We meet again,” she greeted warmly.

Aurora glanced up, her surprise masked by polite curiosity. “Good evening,” she replied, her tone neutral but civil.

“May I sit?” Olivia asked, and without waiting for her permission, she pulled out the chair beside her and settled in. “You seem a little tired. Has the activities tonight been too much?”

Aurora’s expression didn’t shift, though her gaze briefly flicked away as if uninterested. “You could say that,” she replied simply.

Olivia wasn’t discouraged by Aurora’s distant demeanour. Instead, she saw this as a rare opportunity to plant a seed and clutched onto it with everything in her. After a calculated pause, she began, her tone casual yet intentional. “Mrs. Scott, I’m not sure if you’ve heard of my family—the Swifts.”

Aurora’s gaze returned to her, a spark of intrigue in her eyes. “Go on.”

“My family owns the renowned wine company, Vintage Cellar,” Olivia continued, a hint of pride colouring her voice. “It was built from the ground up by my father, who we lost about five weeks ago. And the champagne served at your ball tonight is from Vintage Cellar, specially crafted by my older sister, Aurora.”

Aurora’s lips curled slightly at the irony. “Your sister’s product? That’s impressive! But how so?” she asked with a tinge of surprise and curiosity in her tone.

“Yes,” Olivia said eagerly, sensing an opening. “Fruit Punch Champagne is her creation. Your husband has always been a major sponsor of her product, which makes it surprising that he didn’t invite her tonight to introduce you two at least.”

The subtle jab wasn’t lost on Aurora, though she maintained a calm expression. Behind her mask, she suppressed a laugh at Olivia’s transparent attempt to stir tension.

On the other hand, Olivia hid a smug smile as she continued filling Aurora’s ears with words that should provoke her spirit. She believed that no woman, no matter how learned and composed she was, would tolerate another woman being so close to her husband. And Olivia knew this through what was happening between her and Owen currently.

Meanwhile, Nene stepped forward as Olivia reached into her purse and presented her complimentary card. “Here’s my contact information in case you’d like to learn more about our products,” she said with a hidden meaning behind her statement while expecting Aurora’s card in return.

But Nene intercepted the card smoothly, her voice firm but polite. “I am Mrs. Scott’s assistant. Here’s my card if you’d like to get in touch.”

Though slightly irked, Olivia masked her disappointment with a tight smile. She extended her hand toward Aurora. “It was a pleasure meeting you tonight, Mrs. Scott.”

Aurora raised her champagne glass instead, the subtle dismissal clear. Olivia nodded stiffly and rose to leave, her mind already churning with plans to gain Mrs. Scott’s trust.

As Olivia walked away, Aurora’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “Xander was right,” she mused silently, watching Olivia retreat. “It’ll definitely be easier to work with someone this desperate.”

—

Back on the dance floor, Asher twirled Abigail with surprising grace, earning a reluctant smile from her. “Not bad,” she admitted grudgingly just as the song ended. Then without waiting she left his side and grabbed a cocktail from a passing waiter.

“This is your tenth glass tonight,” Asher said, stopping beside her. “If I were you, I would stop drinking now.”

Instantly, Abigail snapped her gaze to him. “I didn’t know you were keeping count, Mr. Moore,” she said, taking a sip while peering at him through her glass.

“Don’t worry, time will tell on you soon,” he said with his hands crossed behind his back as his gaze settled on her drink.