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Chapter 74: Chapter 74: A Woman as a Bet?

Lynn Winslow was the one driving down the mountain. Ian Sterling was still buzzing with an excitement that hadn’t faded, making it impossible for him to drive. Worried about heightening his excitement, she drove very smoothly.

She lazily turned the steering wheel, occasionally glancing sideways at Ian Sterling. His expression was calm, but his arm was still trembling.

"Do you have to be so dramatic, baby?" she asked with a smile. "It’s not like this is your first time."

Ian Sterling slowly shook his head and raised a hand to cover his eyes. His voice was still hoarse. "This is different."

’How is it different?’ Lynn Winslow didn’t understand.

Ian Sterling pursed his lips, let out a deep breath, and forcibly suppressed the strange sensation coursing through his body.

After returning to the club, they went to rest in the private lounge reserved for their group.

Lynn Winslow leaned against Ian Sterling, playing on her phone. As she listened to the men discuss a project, she grew bored. Not wanting to interrupt, she leaned close to Ian Sterling’s ear and whispered, "Ask them for a cigarette and a lighter for me."

Ian Sterling simply leaned over, picked up the pack of cigarettes and the lighter Nigel Abbott had tossed on the table, and handed them to her, ignoring the looks everyone was giving them.

Lynn Winslow took them and started to get up, but Ian Sterling grabbed her hand. "Where are you going?" he asked, confused.

"I’m going outside. You guys keep talking. I’ll be back in a bit."

The others in the lounge were all considerate of Ian Sterling’s delicate constitution, always stepping outside to smoke. Lynn Winslow was even more determined than they were to keep him away from second-hand smoke.

Ian Sterling squeezed her palm before letting go, his gaze following Lynn Winslow’s retreating figure until the lounge door swung shut.

Kenneth Keller raised an eyebrow. "Lynn Winslow smokes?"

Now that he no longer had to worry about his posture making Lynn Winslow uncomfortable, Ian Sterling crossed his legs. He grunted in affirmation, then frowned at Kenneth. "What’s the big deal?"

Kenneth Keller had only been asking casually. Ian’s response made him laugh in exasperation. He rolled his eyes and didn’t deign to reply.

Lynn Winslow walked out of the clubhouse, leaned against a dark, frosted-glass wall to the side, and lowered her eyes to light her cigarette.

She had just taken two drags when she heard a man and a woman arguing nearby. At first, Lynn Winslow wasn’t curious, figuring it was just a couple’s spat and deciding not to meddle. But then she heard the woman’s shrill, tearful denunciation.

Lynn Winslow frowned. The cigarette still held between her slender fingers, she took a few steps toward the corner and saw two figures grappling with each other.

The woman was crying. "You made a bet with someone else! What gives you the right to use me as the wager?!"

"This is how we play here. I can’t be the guy who can’t afford the stakes, can I?" the man said impatiently. "I’m just asking you to spend one night with him, it’s not a big deal. I’ll just buy you a designer bag to make it up to you. Won’t that be enough?"

"Spend one night with him?" the young woman repeated, staring at the man in disbelief. Tears streamed down her face, stark even in the dim light.

"Aren’t we boyfriend and girlfriend? Can you just shove your girlfriend off to spend time with other men?" she demanded, before screaming, "Are you even a man?!"

SLAP! Humiliated, the man flew into a rage and slapped the woman across the face. He grabbed her by the collar, hissing through clenched teeth, "Who the fuck said we’re boyfriend and girlfriend? You’re just a gold digger. Did you really think you could sleep your way to the top just because I took you out a few times? Let me tell you, you’d better listen and go back with him obediently. Or else I..."

"Or else you’ll what?"

Lynn Winslow genuinely hadn’t wanted to meddle, but the man’s words were growing more and more vile. She couldn’t resist cutting him off.

The man glared at the woman who had interrupted him. She was a stranger, so he assumed that, like the woman he had by the collar, she was just another piece of arm candy brought by one of the other young masters—a tool to be used as a betting chip.

But this woman was stunningly beautiful and exquisite. Forget her figure—just one look at that face was enough to get a rise out of him.

It’s no wonder he didn’t recognize Lynn Winslow. He’d arrived late and missed seeing her in the dining hall. On a normal day, he’d never cross paths with Ian Sterling’s circle; when he came to the club, he was relegated to doing a few laps on one of the other tracks.

The track he frequented was filled with some of Quartos’s more notorious playboys, who often used women as betting stakes. The real scions of the city were fully aware of this but couldn’t be bothered to do anything about it.

With those top-tier young masters tucked away in their private lounge, he grew bolder. He narrowed his eyes, his voice a low warning. "Sweetheart, I’d advise you not to meddle."

Lynn Winslow looked him up and down, her contempt palpable. Lowering her gaze, she took one last drag from her cigarette before stubbing it out. "And if I do?" she asked with a light laugh. "What are you going to do about it?"

"Then I guess I’ll just have to have a little chat with your sponsor," he sneered, his expression turning vicious. He stared hard at Lynn Winslow. "Let’s see if your sugar daddy is willing to stand up for you."

"I don’t need him to stand up for me." Lynn Winslow’s lips curved into a smile as she took a light step forward. Seeing her approach, the other woman frantically tried to signal her with her eyes.

She didn’t want this newcomer to get hurt because of her.

Lynn Winslow shot her a reassuring glance, then her eyes dropped to the man’s hand, still clutching the woman’s collar. "Hitting a woman," she said coolly. "Have you no shame?"

"Ha!" The man barked a laugh as if he’d just heard the world’s funniest joke, and his grip on the woman’s collar tightened.

Lynn Winslow arched an eyebrow, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "Are you sure you won’t let go?" she asked in a soft, silky voice.

The man opened his mouth to hurl an insult, but before a word could escape, Lynn Winslow’s foot shot out and connected squarely with his most vulnerable spot. As he let out a wretched scream, her eyes narrowed with a thrill of excitement.

The man’s agonizing shriek must have attracted attention, because several more men emerged from the side door. Seeing the state of their friend, they grew enraged, shouting a curse as they moved forward.

"Who the hell are you? Do you have any idea where you are? You dare start a fight here?"

They had seen Lynn Winslow in the dining hall, but from too great a distance to make out her face. They only remembered a woman in a short skirt and leather jacket, which didn’t match the woman before them dressed in a racing suit.

Like the man now writhing on the ground and clutching his groin, they simply assumed she was some woman so favored by her sponsor that she’d been allowed to change into a racing suit and get a turn on the track.

Lynn Winslow pulled the other woman behind her, then rolled her neck to loosen her muscles.

She chuckled. "Looks like I’ll get some exercise today after all. Perfect. A chance to teach them how to be decent human beings... and how to respect women."

The other woman tried to stop her, pleading through her tears, "Don’t cross them! They’re not people we can afford to provoke. Even the big shots know what they’re like and don’t do anything. The man you’re with... he won’t be able to protect you."

"Is that so?" Lynn Winslow raised her eyes, her expression as placid as a calm sea. Her long, thick lashes fluttered. "In this world," she said softly, "there are very few people I can’t afford to provoke."

She pried the woman’s hand from her arm and advanced slowly. Before the men could react, her leg shot up in a sweeping kick, the toe of her boot connecting with the face of the man who had spoken first.

"Shit!" The others saw this and knew she was a skilled fighter. They charged forward together, planning to take her on as a group.

But they had barely taken a single step when several men appeared behind Lynn Winslow—men they all feared.

"Lynn!"

Lynn Winslow glanced over her shoulder, her expression turning chilly.

Ian Sterling rushed forward in a panic and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice tight with anxiety. "Are you hurt?"

Lynn Winslow brushed his hands off and took a step back. "So, you knew," she stated, her voice cold. "You knew they use women as betting stakes here, didn’t you?"

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