Chapter 615:

Gavin gave Freda a head-to-toe appraisal, then flashed his signature charming smile. "That dress looks fantastic on you."

Freda hadn't expected a compliment from Gavin, especially after their last 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 waltzed further and further away, leaving Freda trailing behind 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 speak with him.

She clearly saw the tenderness in Theo's gaze as it lingered on his dance partner. Every ounce of his gentlemanly charm was directed at her. Theo hadn't even glanced at Freda the entire time. Disappointment gnawed at her. They'd been a couple, yet he was treating her like a stranger. It felt like their shared history meant nothing to him.

Freda stopped abruptly. She lacked the courage to confront Theo. Dejected, she turned and began walking away, but was interrupted once more by Gavin.

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

Freda couldn't help but scowl. How could anyone fall for such a man? She considered the women clueless, falling for his deceptive, gentle facade.

Convinced of Gavin's duplicity, she watched, waiting for him to make his move. To her surprise, he politely dismissed all the women. He refused to dance with any of them. Reluctantly, despite their unwillingness to be rejected, they dispersed.

Freda's eyes widened. This wasn't going as expected. She quickly reassured herself that this must be part of Gavin's game, speculating that 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. Her face was 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, glancing around nervously. Regaining her composure, she sidled up to him, feigning curiosity. "How did you get in? Did your friend bring you?"

Gavin was confused. "I came with an invitation," he explained. "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. A few minutes later, 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 that 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 like this 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 playing a slow waltz, completely different from the piece Gavin envisioned. Out of respect, he decided to wait until their section finished before beginning his own melody.