After the meal, Dyson suddenly looked up and said coldly to Lucas, "Mr. Marson, may I have a word in private?"
Beauty's heart skipped a beat.
They had all had a few drinks earlier, and Dyson's face still carried a faint flush—likely the alcohol had emboldened him to make this request.
"Sure."
Before Beauty could even think of how to object, Lucas had already agreed.
He turned to glance at her, his deep eyes seeming to hold galaxies within them, yet the look sent a chill down her spine, as if a bucket of icy water had been poured over her from head to toe.
Everyone watched as Lucas followed Dyson into the inner room.
Beauty knew it was Dyson's bedroom, but she had no idea why he was taking Lucas in there.
The door clicked shut with a soft thud, sealing off all prying eyes and hushed gossip.
Though the room was small, it was impeccably clean and tidy.
Neither man took a seat.
