Page 25 of Fixer for the Billionaire

And it feels damn good.

As Alex and I walk into the Seattle Starlight atrium, the transformation amazes me.

The sky-lit atrium, with its thirty-foot ceilings, outdoor courtyard, and rooftop views of North Seattle, now resembles a magical garden. Twinkling lights and pastel flowers everywhere—it’s straight out of a fairytale.

Our consultants, Puddle and Glitter, are nothing short of magicians.

And I'm not the only one enchanted.

"Wow," Alex murmurs, his hand resting on the small of my back as we wait to be checked in.

I can feel his gaze on my upswept hair and the curve of my red dress. For the first time in ages, I let my shoulders drop, soaking in the moment.

It's not even Alex I'm leaning into. It's the atmosphere, the evening, the escapism.

I catch a glimpse of my date—Alex, looking at me with eyes full of apology, the same eyes that have been sorry since he came back, blaming his cold feet on stress at work and family issues.

It's an excuse I'm willing to accept tonight, especially after my mom's call a few days ago. After refusing treatment for her depression again, she ended the call with a bitter "I hope you're happy, ingrata."

Ungrateful—a label that's haunted me since my dad left at thirteen, and after every failed relationship my mom has had since.

But tonight, I refuse to dwell on that. Tonight is about forgetting.

"Are you okay?" Alex whispers, his concern breaking through my thoughts.

I nod. "Yeah, just lost in thought."

He gives my hand a reassuring squeeze, and I respond with a small smile. Alex, with his dark hair and height, is the epitome of the perfect date.

Calm. Polite. Well-educated. No drama.

Unlike him.

And as if my thoughts have summoned him, I spot Quentin at the atrium entrance, scanning the room. And he's not alone.

Standing next to Delilah—the woman who fixes our company's copy machines—I've never really spoken to her, but I think that's her name—Quentin looks even more handsome than usual.

His dark-blond hair is its typical kind of messy, and his deep green eyes are lit up with laughter as he chats with Delilah, standing tall beside him.

But what really gets me is how casually his arm is thrown over her shoulders, sending a pang right through my heart.

As if he can tell I'm watching him, Quentin turns his head, and our eyes meet. Just like that, my heart starts to race.

I quickly look away, feeling heat fan over my neck.

"Something wrong?" Alex asks, noticing where my attention had gone.

"No, it's nothing." I force a smile. "Actually, I'm kind of thirsty. How about we grab some drinks?"

"Sure," he says with a smile, reaching for my hand again. "Lead the way, mi amor."

I try to laugh off his cheesy line, but I take his hand anyway.

We head to the bar, a trail of warmth following us through the crowd. I can feel Quentin's gaze on me, but I'm determined to stay focused on Alex.

Gripping Alex's hand tighter, I square my shoulders and refuse to look back.

Chapter Eleven

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