The Ruthless CEO's Revenge Wife-Chapter 220: THE YATCH PARTY - PART 3

The air around them seemed to hush. The music kept playing somewhere behind them, laughter rising and falling but Logan couldn’t hear it anymore.

All he saw was her.

Jean, who had built walls taller than anyone, who had learned to wear coldness like armor... and yet, somehow, kept a door unlocked just for him.

Logan exhaled, his jaw tightening, pulse loud in his ears. Slowly, deliberately, he lifted her free hand in his and brushed his thumb over her knuckles.

"Then don’t," he murmured. "Don’t shake anyone’s hand. Ever. Let them say what they want. I don’t give a damn."

Jean’s lips parted, surprise softening her gaze, something unspoken blooming in her eyes.

"Just keep letting me touch you," Logan added, his voice rougher now, the promise coiled tight in every word. "That’s enough."

And for the rest of the evening, Logan stayed even closer to her side than before... his hand never far from hers, as if daring the whole world to try and come between them.

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The laughter, the clink of crystal glasses, the smooth swirl of music drifting over the waves... none of it mattered to Tyler as he stepped onto the yacht deck.

For a moment, no one noticed him. His presence, a dark ripple sliding silently into golden waters.

Then he saw them.

Jean.

And the man beside her.

Logan Kingsley’s posture was unmistakable... He was protective and possessive. A hand hovering just above the small of Jean’s back as though it belonged there. And Jean herself... He caught it in that breathless second... As if the way she leaned just slightly toward Logan, the softness in her gaze, the faint flush across her cheeks.

Tyler felt something sharp twist inside him.

That smile... It wasn’t the cold, polished mask she wore for the world. It was softer, and raw... something Tyler had never seen on her face when she was near anyone else. Not even near him.

He clenched his jaw so hard it hurt.

She never looked at him like that. Never had.

And worse... Logan wasn’t even hiding it. The bastard stood there as if the whole damn ocean belonged to him, as if Jean belonged to him. As if it were his right to have her.

Tyler’s gaze darkened, a dangerous calm settling over his expression. His fingers curled around the crystal glass he held, the edge biting into his palm.

She’s supposed to be mine.

All these years, he had watched her from a distance... waited for the perfect moment to make her see that no man, not even Logan Kingsley, could love her the way he could. The way he would break her just to put her back together again.

But here she was... Letting someone else touch her, look at her, claim her so openly.

His pulse thundered in his ears, fury mixing with that black, gnawing obsession.

A waiter passed by; Tyler barely registered the polite nod he returned. His gaze was locked on Jean... At the slight tremble of her hand as Logan brushed his knuckles, on the softness in her face that should have been his to see.

It should have been me.

The yacht deck seemed to blur at the edges. The laughter around him turned hollow, distant.

Then, as Logan leaned closer to murmur something to her... Tyler felt something cold snap inside.

Enjoy it while it lasts, he thought, his stare unblinking, eyes dark with promise. Because when I take her away... you’ll understand what it means to lose everything.

And in that moment, Tyler Dominic silently vowed. No matter how many kings she hides behind... Jean Adams will belong to me.

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The evening breeze was warm on Logan’s skin, carrying faint traces of salt and champagne. For a moment, it felt almost perfect. Jean’s hand resting lightly in his, her guarded walls lowering just enough for him to glimpse something real.

Then... The air around him shifted. A ripple of unease across the deck.

Logan’s gaze, honed by years of boardroom tension and darker rivalries, scanned the guests automatically. Laughter, clinking glasses, the gentle roll of the yacht underfoot... All normal, all expected.

Until his eyes landed on a figure standing slightly apart from the others.

Broad shoulders, sharp suit, eyes locked on them with a stare that was too direct, too hungry to be casual.

Tyler Dominic.

Logan’s jaw tightened, something cold settling deep in his chest. For a heartbeat, the noise of the party seemed to fade, replaced by the low, instinctive drum of warning.

Tyler didn’t flinch under his gaze. Didn’t even pretend to look away. Instead, his stare stayed pinned to Jean... Lingering in a way that made every protective instinct in Logan burn hot and fast.

Beside him, Jean’s fingers twitched slightly against his palm. She didn’t know why, but he felt it... the subtle tightening of her shoulders, the unspoken question in her quick inhale.

"Logan?" she murmured, turning her face slightly up toward him. "What’s wrong?"

He didn’t look at her, not yet. His gaze stayed on Tyler, silently measuring the man... The cold calculation in his stare, the obsession lurking at the edge.

"Nothing you need to worry about," Logan said, voice calm but rougher than he meant. His thumb brushed over the back of her hand, grounding her... Grounding himself.

Jean frowned faintly, sensing something, but didn’t press. Instead, she shifted a half step closer to him, her shoulder brushing his chest.

Tyler’s eyes caught that motion and Logan saw it then. The flicker of something feral and resentful passing through them.

Logan’s own pulse hammered, slow and deliberate. Not tonight, he thought. You won’t touch her. Not now. Not ever.

He finally looked down at Jean, forcing his voice to steady. "Stay close to me tonight, okay?"

Her eyes searched his face, a soft confusion there but she nodded. "Alright," she whispered.

And as the yacht rolled gently over the waves, Logan Kingsley tightened his grip on the woman beside him and silently promised himself that no shadow from the past, not even Tyler Dominic, would steal what was finally becoming theirs.

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Jean had always been quick to read the atmosphere. Years of living behind practiced smiles had taught her to feel the shift in air before anyone else noticed.

And something had shifted.

She felt it first in Logan’s hand... The way his palm, usually steady and warm, went a shade colder. The subtle tightening of his fingers over hers, like he was bracing against something unseen.

She lifted her gaze to his face. His expression was calm... Too calm, carefully controlled. But his jaw was locked tight, and a faint crease cut between his brows.

"Logan?" she asked softly, voice barely audible over the muted hum of music and laughter. "What is it? Did you see someone?"

For a heartbeat, his eyes stayed locked on something behind her. Something or someone... she couldn’t see.

Then he exhaled, his gaze coming back to hers. The look he gave her was protective, but edged with frustration, as, though part of him wanted to tell her, but another part refused to drag her into it.

"It’s nothing," he murmured, his thumb brushing over her knuckles, warm and soothing. "Just stay close to me tonight."

Jean’s brows furrowed, worry pricking at the edge of her chest. Nothing in Logan Kingsley’s world was ever really "nothing."

"Logan..." she started to press, but the words died on her tongue.

His eyes that got dark and stormy for a moment now softened just slightly when they met hers. And in that look, she saw it. Concern is stronger than frustration. A silent promise that whatever shadow he’d seen wasn’t something he’d let touch her.

Jean swallowed back her questions. Instead, she took a half step closer, letting her shoulder brush his chest, grounding them both.

"Alright," she whispered, low enough for only him to hear. "But you’ll tell me if I need to know?"

A muscle in his jaw ticked, but he nodded.

And yet, even as the music swelled around them and the sea breeze cooled her flushed skin, Jean couldn’t shake the strange sensation... that somewhere, hidden in the crowd, someone was watching her with eyes that burned like ice.

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Logan kept his arm steady around Jean, though every muscle in his body felt wired tight. He could still see Tyler Dominic standing across the deck, half in the shadows by the soft gold of the yacht’s lights.

Stay where you are, Logan silently willed him. Don’t come closer.

But of course, Tyler didn’t listen.

A sleek confidence in his stride, Tyler began moving through the small clusters of guests, his steps unhurried... The faintest smile twisting at the corner of his mouth as if he were just another guest coming to say hello.

Jean felt it too. Logan sensed the slight catch in her breath, the way her fingers tightened just barely against his sleeve.

Logan’s hand settled at her waist, protective and possessive all at once.

Then Tyler stopped before them.

"Mr. Kingsley," Tyler drawled, polite enough to sound harmless but Logan caught the faint, venomous edge hidden beneath each word. "Miss Adams. Or should I say... Mrs. Kingsley?"

Jean’s expression didn’t flinch, but Logan felt the faint tension coiling through her posture.