?<strong>Chapter 615:</strong>


    Gavin gave Freda a head-to-toe sweep, then shed his signature charming smile. “That dress looks fantastic on you.”


    Freda hadn’t expected apliment from Gavin, especially after theirst unpleasant encounter. “Thanks, yours too,” she replied politely, eager to move on.


    But fate, it seemed, had a cruel sense of humor. Theo and his date were waltzing further and further away, Freda trailing behind them like a lost satellite.


    The final notes of the melody faded, and Theo escorted his dance partner off the dance floor, hand in hand. Freda didn’t get a chance to squeeze through the crowd to speak with him.


    She saw clearly the tenderness in Theo’s gaze as it lingered on his dance partner. Every ounce of gentlemanly charm was directed at that girl.


    Theo hadn’t even nced at Freda the entire time. Disappointment gnawed at Freda. They’d been a couple, yet here he was, treating her like a stranger. It felt like their shared history meant nothing to him.


    Freda stopped abruptly. She didn’t have the courage to confront Theo. Dejected, she turned and began walking back, but she was interrupted once more by Gavin.


    Gavin was surrounded by several women, their faces flushed, eyes sparkling. They chirped like excited birds, all vying for his attention. It seemed they all wanted to dance with him.


    Freda couldn’t help but scowl. How could anyone fall for such a man? She believed those women were all clueless, falling for his deceptive gentle facade.


    Convinced of Gavin’s duplicity, she watched, waiting for him to make his move. But to her surprise, he politely dismissed all thedies. He didn’t agree to dance with any of them. Reluctantly, the women dispersed, despite their unwillingness to ept rejection.


    Freda’s eyes widened. This wasn’t ying out as expected. She quickly reassured herself that this must be part of Gavin’s game and spected he might have another hidden agenda, pretending to be a celibate gentleman.


    Lost in her self-constructed narrative, she didn’t notice Gavin approaching. He took a slow sip of wine, studying her. He found her face a kaleidoscope of emotions, shifting with each passing second. He couldn’t decipher her thoughts, but his gut told him they weren’t pleasant.


    “What’s on your mind? You look like you’re wrestling with a dilemma,” he said kindly.


    Freda jumped, ncing around nervously. Regaining herposure, she sidled up to him, feigning curiosity. “How’d you get in? Did your friend bring you in?”


    Gavin was confused. “I came with an invitation,” he exined. “Why do you ask?”


    Freda scrutinized him. “But you’re just a violinist. Who gives an invitation to a violinist? Are you sure it was addressed to you?”


    Understanding dawned on Gavin. He took another measured sip of his drink. “Miss Jimenez,” he began, “why the prejudice against artists? Or is it just me you have a problem with?”


    Freda, caught off guard, stammered, “No, that’s not it! I was just… curious. Can someone like you attend these events?”


    Gavin chuckled. “Excuse me for a moment. I’ll be right back.”


    Freda, at a loose end, waited patiently to see what he’d do next. A few minutester, she saw him returning, not towards her, but weaving through the crowd. He reached the center of the dance floor, violin in hand.


    The dance floor was less crowded now because the previous song had ended. Gavin stood poised in the center, raising his violin. Freda drifted closer, watching him from the edge.


    Was this some kind of self-important performance? A fancy venue already had an orchestra, yet he felt the need to be the center of attention.


    Freda wasn’t about to stop Gavin, though. In fact, she rather enjoyed the idea of him making a fool of himself. The resident orchestra was ying a slow waltz,pletely different from the piece Gavin envisioned. Out of respect, he decided to wait until their section finished beforeunching into his own melody.


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