Chapter 48

After Brinley finished her porridge, Austin washed the plates with quiet focus. She lingered in the doorway with her arms folded, studying him.

His casual home clothes looked understated, his sleeves rolled back to reveal lean, defined forearms.Though his dishwashing was clumsy at best, the simple effort carried a warmth that wrapped around her like a blanket.

This was the same man who could be cold and commanding in public, yet here he was-patiently cooking soup for her, reminding her to eat, insisting she rest early.

Her chest softened with a sudden rush of emotion.

"Austin," she murmured, her voice gentle. "Thank you."

With a sideways glance, Austin's eyes gleamed in amusement. "What exactly are you thanking me for? For making you finish your porridge?"

"Yes." Brinley gave a sincere nod, her voice softening. "And... thank you for looking out for me."

The moment the words slipped free, a rush of embarrassment flushed her cheeks. She spun on her heel,hurrying toward the stairs with a flustered wave. "Anyway-it's late! I should get some rest!"

Austin's eyes followed her retreating figure. A quiet laugh escaped him, his gaze warm with unspoken affection.

Weeks drifted past like a breath, and before long, the evening of the racing association's banquet was upon them.

Brinley had planned to show up solo, but Austin insisted on going with her, swearing he'd keep to the background as the quiet plus-one.

Resistance didn't last; she agreed with a small,resigned nod. With her arm hooked through Austin's, Brinley crossed the threshold into the gilded hall, attention snapping toward them at once.

Stares drifted their way-some curious, some appraising, and some brimming with outright hostility.

"Looks like my wife is drawing more eyes than the project tonight." Austin kept his voice low and teasing as his thumb pressed lightly at her wrist, a quiet reassurance.

Brinley brushed past his words without a second thought, her eyes drifting over the shifting tide of people.

Grayson Deleon, the man spearheading the project, was nowhere in sight, yet the hall buzzed with businessmen who had clearly come because of him.

She even caught the sharp profiles of several well-known racers.

Back when she competed, the helmet had always shielded her face, and anonymity had suited her. Now she had even less desie to let anyone connect her to that past life.

Sure enough,Colin and Milly had shown up as well.

The moment Brinley's gaze found Colin, his eyes snapped to hers, surprise flickering across his face like a sudden spark.

Colin strode in wearing a tailored gray suit, two tumblers of amber whiskey balanced in his hands. His eyes lingered on Brinley a moment longer than courtesy allowed before he approached with unhurried steps."Brinley. Mr. Moore. What a surprise running into you here."

"Mr. Palmer, are you here for the same project?" Brinley ignored the drink he extended, instead smoothing a loose strand of hair back behind her ear. Her expression stayed calm, her voice measured, yet the faint coolness in her tone kept distance between them.

The project's profits had drawn in a swarm of ambitious real estate developers, and she had already anticipated Colin would be among those vying for it.

he replied, his gaze sweeping over her with thinly veiled interest. "But tell me,Brinley-what brings you here today?" In Colin's memory, Brinley had always seemed the last person to be linked with racing.

Her gaze stayed calm as she answered, voice cool and detached, "That isn't something you need to concern yourself with."

Austin smoothly slid a glass of champagne into her hand, his movement casual yet deliberate as he blocked Colin's line of sight. His tone carried quiet confidence, edged with warning. "From what I recall, Palmer Group's strengths lie in commercial real estate. Taking on a racing-themed project might prove more difficult than expected."

For a split second, Colin's grin faltered before he regained composure. "Don't worry, we've brought in a seasoned team. Tell me, Mr. Moore-are you competing for the project as well?"

Austin's mouth curved faintly, his reply unhurried but firm. "I'm only here to accompany my wife." With a steady arm around her waist, he guided Brinley toward the center of the venue and added, "Whatever she wants to do, I'm behind her one hundred percent."

While they moved, Brinley felt Colin's stare press between her shoulder blades-and sensed a second,colder gaze lingering at the edge of the lights.

By a nearby pillar, Milly lingered with a knot of socialites, trading murmurs and quick, sidelong looks.

A moment later, her voice drifted over-soft enough to sound innocent, clear enough for the crowd to catch."Colin, doesn't it seem a bit reckless for Mrs. Moore, who's never even sat in a go-kart, to jump into a racing-themed real estate project?" A light laugh slipped from her as she added, "Maybe with Mr. Moore paving the way, any project turns into a sure thing?"

Her mocking words were nothing short of grating.

Around them, the cluster of socialites went quiet, lips flattening as their gazes flicked back and forth between Brinley and Austin, clearly waiting for the scene to break open.

By design, Milly pitched her comment to the room, angling it to imply Brinley landed projects-only on Austin's influence.

Brinley's fingers cinched around the chilled champagne flute. "Seems you're awfully invested in me, Miss Russell." A breath later, she pivoted, her voice steady and bright.

Milly blinked, thrown off balance by the reply she hadn't expected in place of polite silence.

Brinley fixed her eyes on Milly, her voice cutting with quiet certainty. "Mr. Deleon is respected for his integrity. He despises those who attempt to use their influence to sway his decisions. Are you suggesting he'd entrust the project to an unqualified party?"

Milly's cheeks burned crimson. Her eyes watered almost instantly as she stammered, "I... I didn't mean anything by it..."

Austin's voice carried a sharp edge. "Then you should think before you speak next time," he said, stepping in front of Brinley, his shoulders squared as his eyes swept coldly across Milly. "Miss Russell, if idle chatter is all you have to offer, why not lend the waitstaff a hand with the trays? At least that would be more useful than peddling gossip."

A ripple of muffled laughter stirred through the crowd.

Milly's lashes trembled, her eyes brimming as if on the verge of spilling over. Yet she swallowed back any reply, only sending Colin a helpless, wounded look, as though begging him to intervene.