Unmasking the Heiress by Sisi Yea

Chapter 15

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The bedroom door stood closed before Julia, She knocked tentatively, only to be met with Walter's gruff voice from within.

""Leave me alone."

The rebuff startled Julia, but she did not give up. "Walt, it's me, Julia. Can I come in?"

Her voice was a soft whisper in the tense silence.

Inside, Walter broodingly sat on the couch with a cigarette dangling from his lips. He was the picture of brooding, his eyes fixed on the window where he had last seen Evangeline's retreating figure. No answer came.

With a deep breath, Julia smoothed her skirt and pushed the door open.

Chaos greeted her. The bedroom was in disarray, Evangeline's clothes strewn about as if in the wake of a storm. Walter lounged on the couch by the window, his profile a mask of icy detachment.

He was the epitome of allure, his very presence a siren call of raw magnetism that kept others at bay-a trait she found utterly captivating.

However, as she stepped forward, Walter's gaze snapped to her. His voice was a low rumble, quiet yet the frown creasing his forehead was a clear sign of his annoyance. "I won't repeat myself. Leave!" Julia froze.

It made no sense. Walter despised that vixen Evangeline, did he not? Why did her leaving throw him into such a stormy mood, enough to lash out at her?

lay the skirt Evangeline had worn. Draped over the couch, grazing his pants-intimacy she had longed for

never fit in, no

she knew Walter too well-his temper, his coldness. Anyone who crossed his bottom line might never get another chance to approach

not irritate him. Evangeline and Walter

play the Gordon family's lady for three years? Walter never laid a finger

would come. She would be the queen of that domain soon

head, but when she spoke, her tone was soft

if you ever need

no reply from him, Julia clenched her jaw and walked away, her

face was a mask of tension, his whole demeanor screamed 'back off. The pain had ebbed away,

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believe Evangeline had hit

the filter, but the dull ache lingered, along with

floor.

in his head, the memory of her stripping

could not even pinpoint

call came in. "You sound like you're in a bad mood. Catch your in the act,

hanging up

about a drink to drown your

""Where at?" "Our spot."

girt