Almost a Wife Never His Love novel Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Val-de-Rêve shimmered. Inside a five-star hotel off the Champs-Élysées, the International Design Association’s gala

pulsed with energy.

Crystal chandeliers scattered light like diamonds. Champagne flutes clinked. Couture gowns brushed against tailored

tuxedos.

Nova Sterling stood at the epicenter, a vision in liquid-silver satin. Her hair cascaded in loose waves, minimalist diamond

studs catching the light. She looked like the goddess of stardust made flesh.

Champagne flute in hand, she conversed effortlessly with design directors from Maisons like Dior and Valentino-her confidence magnetic.

“Nadia,” a French couturier murmured appreciatively, “your ‘Stardust’ collection… Those fluid lines? It’s like wearing

captured moonlight.”

Nova’s smile was poised, ready to reply-when a blade-sharp gaze pierced her composure.

She turned. Her brow furrowed fractionally.

Zane Blackthorn.

In razor-cut black wool, granite-faced, his gaze laser-locked on her.

Ivy clung to his arm in saccharine pink tulle. Her sugary smile curdled the moment she recognized Nova.

Nova’s gaze slid away, seamless. She resumed her conversation as if they were ghosts.

Zane cut through the crowd toward her.

“Nova Sterling.”

A ripple of tension. The designers nearby discreetly withdrew.

Nova lifted her chin. Her smile was polished, glacial. “Mr. Blackthorn. What an unexpected… coincidence.”

“You’ve been hiding.” His voice vibrated with suppressed fury.

Nova laughed softly, swirling her champagne. “Hiding? We’re divorced..”

Zane’s brow tightened.

Ivy scurried after him, reclaiming his arm with possessive force. “Oh! Ms. Sterling!” Her voice dripped faux-surprise. “Fancy

meeting you here.” Her eyes raked over Nova’s gown. “Divorce agrees with you, it seems. Found a generous… patron to get

you through these doors?”

Nova’s expression remained unruffled. She flicked a dismissive glance at Ivy. “Invitations are merit-based, Ms. Callahan. Unlike some, I don’t require… escorts for credibility.”

Ivy’s eyes flashed with venom. She manufactured a quivering lip. “Credentials What credentials? Unless…” She leaned in, stage whispering the poison: “…you offered special favors?”

Chamer 14.

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