Claimed By Mr. Billionaire Novel

Chapter 127: Circling Sharks

Why was it that every single time, this man had me completely under his thumb? After washing her hands, Summer took a steadying breath and walked out of the restroom.

Finished, a woman stood alone in the narrow corridor outside. She looked striking, her curves enveloped in a slinky, provocative dress that shimmered under the faint light. A slender hand held a cigarette delicately between two fingers, and wisps of smoke curled lazily around her, veiling her expression in a haze of mystery and allure. Yet the woman's sultry gaze was impossible to ignore; one glance could pull you under. She was dangerous and seductive, like an enchantress straight out of a myth.

Summer recognized her immediately. This was the same woman who had just been dancing with Fraser. Summer walked past her without saying a word, maintaining an expression of calm indifference. But just as she passed, a slender, jade-like hand suddenly reached out, blocking her path.

"Ms. Stewart, isn't it?" The woman's voice was soft, dripping with allure, tinged with a faint huskiness from the cigarette she was smoking. "I'm Madeleine," she continued. "Heiress of Marc Gerber."

Summer stopped and turned to look at her. "What is it?" she asked, her tone cool and distant.

Madeleine asked directly, "What's your relationship with Fraser?" Summer's brows knitted together. "I don't think I need to explain that to you."

Madeleine let out a low, smoky laugh. The thick scent of cigarettes filled the narrow hallway, and Summer instinctively took two steps back. "I've decided I want him," Madeleine said bluntly. "I don't care what's going on between you two. I'll have him. I want to sleep with him."

The sheer boldness of the statement made Summer's stomach twist with discomfort. "You should probably tell him that directly," Summer replied, her voice clipped. "It's not something I can help you with."

Madeleine gave a soft hum. "You don't mind?" she asked, tilting her head, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. "My sixth sense tells me you've already slept with him."

"Is every French woman this direct?" Summer's face stiffened, her expression faltering for just a moment. "Don't get me wrong," she said lightly. "I have no desire to be his woman. But you can tell me—how is he in bed? He doesn't strike me as the cold type."

Summer stared at her, momentarily at a loss for words. How did this woman even come to the conclusion that Fraser might be cold? But being questioned so bluntly snapped something inside her. "Seven times in one night," she said evenly. "What do you think?"

Madeleine's eyes lit up instantly. "Oh my god," she breathed, her gaze gleaming. "He's definitely my type."

"But," Summer added sharply, "you won't get the chance." With that, she turned on her heel, stalking off with a heart full of frustration and simmering irritation.

By the time she returned to the ballroom, the music had faded, and the atmosphere had shifted back to its usual opulence. Crystal glasses clinked, laughter rippled through the air, and wine flowed freely as the city's elite slipped seamlessly back into their revelry.

Traver, a familiar face, invaded her thoughts. "Did we meet before?" he said, his voice curling in a casual tone. "You look familiar, but I didn't even catch your name."

Summer felt a wave of irritation rise again. How could he not remember her? "I'm Summer," she replied, forcing a smile.

As she scanned the crowd, hoping to find a moment of escape, her phone buzzed softly in her pocket. With a sigh, she reached for it, her heart racing as she wondered who could be reaching out to her now.