Revenge marriage to my ex-husband’s Rival

9.

He couldn't remember what he was doing in the hotel that night. Perhaps closing in on a deal, meeting with a woman, or just about for a leisurely outing, but he simply couldn't forget the image of her as she walked through those doors, unknowing, or perhaps, knowing her.. uncaring of the attention her presence commanded.

She wore a red dress. Simple in its cut but elegant in its execution, hugging her ample curves in a way that was both sophisticating and provocative with a daring slit that exposed a smooth tanned leg. A clothing far more luxuriant than befitting for the relatively relaxed environment.

He hadn't intended to approach that night. He never did. She was just a curiosity that hadn't grown enough for him to personally seek her out. But something was different about her that night. For one, she was alone. Without that poor excuse of a man trailing after her.

While Delarney could be found in all sorts of places without her, be it he was doing official business or engaged in underhanded activities, but she..she was never found outside without the company of the slimy bastard. So what could she be doing all the way here, by this time of the night, and in all places at the hotel bar, making a bee line towards the counter.

She didn't seem to be alright. She still walked with her confident, elegant swagger, but there was a subtle tremor in her hands, a slight unsteadiness to her step. And the fact that she was headed to the bar was all he needed to know about her state of mind at the moment.

He couldn't remember for how long he'd been watching her, but he could distinctly remember whoever it was accompanying him for the night excusing themselves and leaving him alone at the table. It didn't matter; his attention was entirely on her. As she approached the bar and slid onto a stool, he saw her hands clutch the edge of the counter with an intensity that betrayed her inner turmoil.

But he didn't approach her still.

He watched from a distance, observing her as she ordered drink after drink. It started innocently enough—a glass, then another. But as the minutes turned into hours, her consumption increased. The bartender hesitated before serving her the nth drink, but her steely glare silenced any objections.

Now he couldn't sit still. Not when she seemed so determined to drink herself to oblivion. And also because he could no longer contain his curiosity. What was it? What made the cold elegant heiress descend into such reckless abandon? He couldn't just watch any longer. He had to intervene.

Rising from his seat, he made his way to her, every step purposeful yet careful. He leaned over the bar, his presence commanding as he deftly plucked the drink from her grasp just as the bartender handed it over. Startled, She turned angrily to confront him, but she paused, seeming confused as she blinked rapidly, trying to focus on him.

He chuckled, watching her struggle, and off handedly he took a sip of the liquid, pausing at the strong unexpected taste. "Whiskey? Who would've thought the elegant Aria Moretti was such a heavy drinker," he said smoothly, his voice dripping with a mixture of amusement and mockery.

"And who the f**k are you?" Aria slurred out, trying to make out the blurry image of the tall man in front of her.

"You wound me," he chuckled. "I at least thought we could be considered acquaintances."

As his words sank in, She felt a tinge of familiarity wash over her. She squeezed her eyes shut in a long blink, then reopened them, before she finally looked up from his impeccable black suit, her breath hitched as she locked eyes with the familiar striking face standing before her.

From his razor-sharp jawline to his high cheekbones, Sebastian was the epitome of male beauty. His dark hair was perfectly styled, not a strand out of place, contrasting with his piercing blue eyes that seemed to look straight into her soul. His skin was smooth and unblemished, the kind that seemed to glow with a natural radiance, making him appear almost unreal in the dim light of the bar.

His lips, curved into a knowing smile, were full and perfectly shaped, full of both charm and danger. He stood tall, with a broad chest and shoulders exuding strength and confidence, his tailored black suit fitting him like a second skin. There was an air of effortless sophistication about him, as if he was born to command attention and admiration. His every movements exuded an authority that was impossible to ignore. He was the kind of man who turned heads wherever he went, his presence magnetic and almost overwhelming.

His arresting eyes bore into hers, and a smirk played on his lips. "Sebastian," she whispered before she could catch herself, the name a mix of surprise and something she couldn’t quite identify.

"Surprised to see me?" he asked, his tone teasing. "You look like you could use some help." Her face was fully flushed and her words slurred, but she presented a damn too irresistible picture for any to ignore.

"Help?" she scoffed, trying to sound defiant but failing miserably. "I don’t need help. Especially not from you."

"Clearly," he said dryly, eyeing the empty glasses lined up in front of her. "But let's get you out of here before you do something you'll regret, Heiress."

But she froze at the sound of his last words, turning to look at him sharply as those painful words from the man who had meant so much to her reverberated in her mind like a distant echo. "What did you just call me?" she demanded, her voice tinged with both fury and desperation.

"Heiress," Sebastian repeated, unphased by her reaction. "It's what you are, isn't it? The perfect, untouchable Aria Moretti. But tonight, you're just a woman drowning her sorrows in whiskey, odd isn’t it?"

She stared at him, the weight of his words pressing down on her. For a moment, the anger in her eyes faded, replaced by a vulnerability that she quickly masked. "You don't know anything about me Leclair." she said quietly, turning away from him, ignoring his presence completely as she motioned impatiently for the bartender to serve her another glass.

Sebastian watched her with a detached curiosity, the corners of his mouth twitching into a bemused smile. "You're right," he said, leaning back against the bar. "I don't know you. But I can tell you're not here for a casual drink. Something's eating away at you, and you're trying to drown it in alcohol." He’d seen that dark look in her eyes one too many times in the mirror not to recognize it.

Aria ignored him, her focus on the bartender who, after a hesitant glance at Sebastian, poured her another drink. She grabbed the glass, her fingers trembling slightly, and downed the contents in one go. The burn of the whiskey did little to numb the pain she felt, but oddly it sobered her up a little.

Sebastian continued to watch her, his interest piqued further by her stubbornness. He knew he should walk away, let her spiral into whatever dark place she was heading, but something about her vulnerability deeply intrigued him. "You know," he said casually, "revenge has a way of consuming you. Makes you do things you never thought you'd do."

Her hand froze halfway to her mouth with another drink, and she turned to look at him, her eyes narrowing. "What do you know about revenge?"

"More than you think," he replied, his voice low and dangerous. "I've seen what it can do to people. How it can drive them to the edge and beyond. It's a powerful motivator, just as it can easily destroy you."

Aria's eyes flickered with a mix of curiosity and wariness. "And what would you know about what I want?"

Sebastian leaned in closer until he was so close he could almost count every curled lash, his gaze intense. "I can see it in your eyes. The need for payback. The desire to make someone suffer. You're not here just to drink, Aria Moretti. You're here because you're planning something, and you think you need to do it alone. But revenge is a game best played with allies." He said, his voice barely above a whisper.

She stared at him, shocked that she was even weighing his words. "And you think you can help me? Why would you even want to?" He was a lot of things, but a caring and helpful man was far from it.

He chuckled, a dark, humorless sound. "Because I'm bored, and because I like a good challenge. Helping you would certainly be...entertaining."

Aria's resolve wavered, but she couldn't deny the truth in his words. She needed help, and Sebastian Leclair was as ruthless and cunning as they came. She couldn’t go to her to family with this, nor any of her pompous friends. She needed help..and not just from anybody, but from someone who actually could. If anyone could help her bring down her husband, it was him. "What's in it for you?" she asked, her voice steadying.

Sebastian's smile widened, but there was a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Let's just say I'm intrigued by you, Aria. There is something to you that promises a storm. And I do love a good storm."

Her pulse quickened at his words, and she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over her. "That doesn't answer my question," she insisted, her voice wavering slightly. "What do you want in return?"

Sebastian leaned in closer, his presence overwhelming. "Oh, you'll find out soon enough. But for now, your trust and cooperation will suffice."

The ambiguity of his answer sent a shiver down her spine, but she knew she had little choice. Desperation had driven her to this point, and she needed his help. "Fine," she agreed, her voice barely a whisper. "I'll do whatever it takes." Even making a deal with the devil, to exact her revenge.

Sebastian's smile turned predatory, his gaze never leaving hers. "That's more like it. But remember, Aria, once you make a deal with me, there's no turning back."

She nodded, her resolve hardening. "I..I understand."

"Good," he said, leaning back and taking a sip of his stolen drink. "Now, tell me, who’s the sorry bastard that we're going to destroy?"

Aria took a deep breath, steadying herself. She hesitated for a moment, her eyes flickering with a mix of anger and pain before she spoke..