Chapter 7: Stay Away From My Uncle

John felt restless, sipping from the glass of wine in his hand as he watched Lala intently.

“John, come with me,” a voice said behind him.

He didn’t react. His gaze remained fixed on Lala and Philip.

“John!”

The sharper call startled him. He flinched and nearly spilled his drink. Turning, he found a man about six feet tall in a black suit, staring at him with furrowed brows.

John immediately forced a smile. “Mr. Wilson—sorry. You were saying?”

Mr. Wilson followed John’s line of sight, gave a small nod, then said again, “Come with me.”

John set his glass down and went with him, letting himself be led away.

Unaware she’d been watched the entire time, Lala finished the tour with Philip. When they finally had a moment, she asked the question that had been bothering her.

“Is this just a one-time thing to you?”

Philip blinked, surprised, then smiled and shook his head. “No.”

Before she could respond, a group of men closed in around him. Philip glanced at Lala, apologetic. “I’m sorry—can you give me a minute?”

Lala nodded.

Lala slipped away to the restroom. Earlier she’d been wound tight with nerves, but once she stood before the mirror and let out a long breath, some of the tension finally eased.

She touched up her powder and stepped out—only to find John blocking the hallway.

She shifted to the side to let him pass.

He didn’t move.

Frowning, she stepped the other way. John mirrored her again. Lala lifted an eyebrow. “What?”

John’s voice came out sharp. “What are you doing with my uncle?”

The question caught her off guard. She stared at him, speechless.

When she didn’t answer, he pressed on. “I saw you two talking. He even introduced you to his friends. Since when are you that close?”

Lala’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you were in a relationship with Hannah. Unless I’m mistaken, you’re about to marry her. So why do you care who I’m friends with?”

“This isn’t about Hannah,” John cut in.

He drew a breath, his tone firm. “I’m not comfortable seeing you with my uncle.”

For a beat, Lala could only look at him, baffled by the audacity. Then she shook her head. “I’m not going to live my life the way you dictate it. Stop making everything about you—especially when it comes to me.”

She turned to leave.

Behind her, John called out a warning. “My uncle isn’t a good guy. He’s played with a lot of women’s hearts. He’s single in his thirties for a reason—he’s a complete casanova. If you get close to him, you’ll end up hurt and miserable.”

Lala didn’t respond. She just walked away, emotions tangled tight in her chest. She hadn’t expected the man who’d thrown her away for her best friend to show up now—after all the pain he’d caused—making demands like he still had a right.

“I’m done,” Philip said when he found her. “Do you want to leave?”

“I want to leave too,” Lala replied.

Philip smiled, and together they headed for the exit.

John stepped out from the restroom area and spotted them. His chest tightened. Restlessness crawled under his skin as he followed at a distance, needing to know where Philip was taking her.

Near the parking lot, he watched Philip open the car door for Lala. She got in.

John took three steps forward, an impulse rising fast—drag her out, stop her, say something that would change this. But he stopped short, turned away, and covered his mouth with his hand, frustration and anxiety churning in his gut.

All he could do was watch as Philip drove Lala home.

When Philip pulled over and parked, silence filled the car. Nearly a minute passed before Lala finally spoke.

“Thanks for the ride. I’ll get going.”

She hesitated, then climbed out slowly. Philip didn’t look at her for long.

“Goodnight,” he said.

That was it.

Disappointment sank into her chest. With her eyelids lowered, she shut the door and turned toward her building, shoulders slumped. She’d been sure he would mention what had happened between them the night before—but he didn’t. She let out a frustrated sigh as she walked away.

Behind her, Philip drove off.

Later, Lala lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling, the same heavy feeling refusing to lift. By dawn, she still hadn’t slept much.

Then the doorbell rang.

Her heart jumped. Excitement rushed through her as she threw off the covers, convinced Philip had come back—finally ready to talk. She hurried to the door and yanked it open.

It wasn’t Philip.

John stood there.

Lala froze, shock flashing across her face as she frowned at him. John looked tense, nervous—his hands fidgeting like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“I warned you to stay away from my uncle,” he blurted out. “But you still let him drop you off. You even waved goodbye. And you looked disappointed when you got out of the car—so what’s going on between you two?”

Lala’s frown deepened. “Did you follow us home?”

John’s jaw tightened. “That isn’t the question. You need to avoid my uncle. He isn’t a good guy, he’s—”

“Can you stop parroting this?” Lala snapped, half-yelling as frustration spilled over. “I don’t want to hear it. Whatever I have with your uncle has nothing to do with you—”

“It has everything to do with me!” John cut in.

Lala’s eyes widened, stunned into silence.