The Temporary Boyfriend

Chapter 17: Late night visitor

"So it was you," Lyvana said softly. "You sent me that expensive gown. Is it fake?"

Julian laughed slightly. A sound that seemed to vibrate right through the phone.

"Fake? Lyvana, a Blaireaux imitation is so obvious it’s an insult. I don’t do fake."

Her fingers tightened around the phone. "Then why would you send me something so expensive?"

"I thought it will look better on you than it did on the runway. Besides, I have another gift for you."

"What?"

"Open the door and find out."

Her heart skipped a beat.

She stood up, and walked to the main door. She turned the lock and pulled the door open.

"Julian."

A slow, devastating smirk spread across his face as he tucked his phone into his pocket.

"Surprise."

....

Mark drove through the quiet streets and stopped in front of Clarisse’s apartment building.

The place was modest — too modest for a man like him — but it was discreet. No doorman. No cameras worth mentioning.

Clarisse had chosen it well, or perhaps he had chosen it for her.

He got out of the car, straightened his jacket, and walked to the door. The night air was cool. He took out his key and unlocked the door without hesitation.

"Clarisse," he called locking the door behind him. ​"Clarisse?" he called out again. The house was quiet, smelling faintly of expensive candles and the dinner he’d missed.

Clarisse stepped out of the bedroom hallway wearing a flimsy see through negligee, which clung to her body exposing her curves.

​"You’re late," she said.

"Sorry," Mark murmured as he walked closer. "Lady Glowen suddenly invited Lyvana and me to dinner."

Clarisse’s face tightened. "Ugh. I hate that name."

Mark pulled her into his arms, holding her close.

"We need to stay focused," he said quietly. "Stick to the plan. Her inheritance. Her company."

Clarisse frowned. "But we don’t need it. We’ve already taken enough."

"No," he said. "It’s not enough."

What Clarisse didn’t know — what he had never told her — was the truth about the Vaughn family.

Their wealth was mostly an illusion. Years of bad investments and careless spending had drained what little they once had.

Lyvana’s inheritance was his way out.

Selling her company would give him a fresh start and enough money to kick off his campaign.

"You’re a vision, babe," he murmured as his hands roamed her back.

"Don’t change the subject," she said. "You stood me up for that silly, stupid girl."

His hands slid around her waist, lifting her effortlessly. Her legs wrapped around his hips, the sheer fabric of her negligee moving upwards, revealing she was naked underneath.

"How about I make it up to you," he breathed.

Clarisse’s lips curved into a wicked smile.

He didn’t waste a second, fumbling with his zipper, his hardness springing free.

Her fingers dug into his shoulders as he pressed against her wet folds filling her in one push. Clarisse moaned.

....

"Admit it, you did that on purpose," Lyvana said. "You wanted Mark to be jealous."

​Julian didn’t flinch. He leaned back, his thumb tracing the rim of his crystal glass, looking entirely too comfortable with her accusation.

"Of course I did," he said cooly. "Men like him only understand value when it’s written in numbers. I wanted him to feel it. I wanted him to know someone can actually spend that kind of money on you." freёweɓnovel.com

Lyvana shook her head.

"How did you know I would be at the mansion anyway."

Julian’s gaze lifted to hers. "I’ll tell you if you promise not to get angry."

Her stomach tightened. "What did you do?"

​Julian took a slow sip of his drink, the ice clinking against the glass.

"I have someone following you."

​The silence that followed was heavy.

Lyvana felt heat rush to her face. Shock first, then anger.

"What?"

"In my defense," Julian said calmly, "you were attacked once. I didn’t want to risk it happening again."

He reached out then, his thumb brushing lightly against her neck.

"Lyvana," he continued. "I’m worried about you."

Her anger wavered — but only for a moment.

"So you thought spying on me was the solution?" she said. "You didn’t think to tell me?"

"I was going to," Julian replied. "I planned to suggest that Marco drive you from now on."

A pause.

"You’re right," he added, turning back to his drink. "I should have told you."

Lyvana folded her arms.

"Call him off."

Julian exhaled through his nose, then nodded once.

"Fine. But think about what I said. Let him be your driver. I’d sleep better knowing you’re safe."

She met his gaze. "I’ll think about it."

"Fair enough," he said.

Lyvana looked away, her thoughts racing. She knew Julian had a point — one she hated admitting. Clarisse was desperate now. Her plan had failed, and desperation made people reckless. If Clarisse had tried once, she would almost certainly try again.

But if she let Julian make every decision, even in the name of protection, their alliance would quietly turn into something else.

And Lyvana had no intention of trading one cage for another.

"Here," Julian said, holding out a phone.

She blinked. "You got me another phone?"

"Yes. This one has your old number — replacing the one you lost."

Lyvana turned it over in her hand

"That’s... thoughtful."

Julian smirked. "I am a very thoughtful person."

She laughed softly.

Right then, a pair of slow, dragging footsteps shuffled into the kitchen.

Emily appeared in her pajamas, her hair sticking out in every direction, and her eyes barely open.

She froze when she saw Julian casually sitting on the kitchen counter with a drink.

She stared. Then she rubbed her eyes.

Then she stared again.

"...Okay," Emily said slowly. "Either I’m still asleep, or we’re just letting attractive strangers drink in our kitchen now."

Julian lifted his glass slightly. "Good evening."

Emily sighed. "Yeah. I’m going back to bed before this turns into a dream I have to unpack in therapy."

She turned and walked out.

Lyvana burst out laughing.

"Emy, wait."