Chapter 60
He’d once ruthlessly criticized this place as nothing but a den for idle people who had nothing better to do than drink in the middle of the day, but now Cairn found himself here more often than anyone else in Baltan.
People who had once eyed him with suspicion quickly realized he usually kept to himself, quietly coming and going without fuss, and so they eventually stopped paying him any attention.
Still, every so often, Cairn would draw a few curious looks—he blended into the hazy, lamp-lit scene a little too well, especially when his appearance was unusually disheveled. The man who sat silently beneath the foggy lights, surrounded by drifting cigar smoke, had a strangely magnetic presence.
Even when other men approached to strike up conversation, Cairn would only give a slight nod, never really engaging. The only one who could be called his companion here was Victor Regid.
Victor, who had always enjoyed drinking, now visited even more frequently.
A raucous voice rang out beside Cairn.
“Sir, why are you always trying to study? Save your books for the desk, and when you’re in bed, just stick it in. That’s what women really like, I’m telling you!”
Victor, tipsy as usual, was showing off his questionable expertise in bedroom matters—something that had become more frequent of late.
Baron Bercy’s divorce had left a mark on the men of Baltan as well. They were shocked that a marriage could end over ‘something like that’, and even more scandalized that a wife, who ought to be obedient—at least in bed—had dared to rebel for just that reason.
Of course, they also took notes, and some, like now, even came to notorious libertines like Victor for advice.
“You have to go hard and fast, that’s the key. The rougher it is, the more often she’ll feel it.”
The truth was, most of the so-called tips being shared were nothing but useless talk. Cairn had been frequenting the White House, but he’d come to the firm conclusion it was hardly worth his time.
If he’d listened too closely to these tips, his own clumsy first night might have gone even worse, he thought as he got to his feet.
Since it would be his last visit, he decided he ought to give Victor—a man who’d once made moves on Lilien—a reality check before leaving for good.
Hearing the commotion up close, Cairn strode over and sat down right in front of Victor.
“…What?”
Cairn’s sharp eyes flicked down to Victor’s trousers, then to those of the man beside him—no one escaped his clinical gaze.
‘If that’s all the size he’s working with, then maybe the advice of being rough is helpful.’
With that barely enough size, going rough wouldn’t hurt anyone.
For some men, Victor’s advice might actually help, but for anyone with more than the average endowment, it was pointless. Sometimes, gut instinct trumped logic, and right now, Cairn’s instinct told him he was absolutely right.
“What’s with the staring, Lord Headington?”
Despite Cairn’s overt scrutiny, they could do little but squirm uncomfortably, forced to sit there with the outline of their groins on full display.
“‘Just put it in and she’ll like it,’ huh…”
Cairn’s eyes narrowed.
“I suppose for some, that makes sense.”
The words seemed to agree with Victor, but there was something unmistakably condescending about them. Victor wasn’t the only one who felt humiliated—every man around the table suddenly felt as if they’d been stripped bare.
“Carry on, gentlemen.”
Whether he noticed the ripple of discomfort he’d caused or not, Cairn casually buttoned his jacket and stood. The men watched him go, still dazed from the encounter.
Even his measured walk out of the smoky, alcohol-scented lounge was immaculate. The only thing he couldn’t conceal was the blue veins standing out on the back of his hand.
As Cairn stepped into the street, the gaslights illuminating the night flickered off, and his sharply defined face faded into the darkness.
Only then did his impassive expression show a hint of change.
A low, cold whisper drifted into the night air.
“Leaving….”
She said she’s leaving… She really meant it
The reason he’d always been able to play it cool with Lilien, even as she made it clear she’d never let herself be caught, was because she was always within reach. She’s living in Baltan, under his watch.
He’d thought he could close the net around her whenever he chose, but she’d dug herself a backdoor out with surprising boldness.
No matter how desperately she struggled, in the end, things would go as Cairn intended. He could suffocate every last escape route she had—except for the one, himself.
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