Page 12 of The Boss and the Wedding Mess
Oh damn!
I gasp in shock completely at a loss on what to say.
“If you’d just let me speak to the bride, I’d clear up the misunderstanding immediately! I went to the wrong church and—”
“As I said, you may leave.” He cuts me off with a dismissive wave. No interest whatsoever in hearing me out.
“My best friend was cheated on. She was in a relationship with a man and didn’t know she was the other woman. When she foundout he was getting married, she wanted to warn the bride. We ended up at the wrong church. It was a mistake.”
Maybe that helps?
He just looks at me silently and takes another sip. No, he’s deliberately ignoring me.
“So, if you’d give me the opportunity to explain everything to the bride, then—”
I break off as my boss suddenly enters the room.
“Ah, Miss Waverley,” he says, beaming at me. In high spirits, Mr. Blackthorn comes over, then notices his guest. “Good to see everything worked out. I see you’ve already met my son.”
Yeah, that’s it. Game over.
While Mr. BlackthornJuniorfixes me with an ice-cold look, I’m just dying inside. Damn it.
“Son?” I freeze. I knew Mr. Blackthorn has a son, but isn't he supposed to live in America? Mr. Blackthorn Senior has hardly ever mentioned him. I knew nothing about his son—appearance or name.
"Yes, my son Alexander. Have I never told you about him? I seem to recall mentioning that he lives in New York." Just barely. I hadn’t even known it was New York. My boss, a bittaller than me with thick white hair, a bushy mustache, and dark eyes, pauses to think.
"It must have slipped my mind," I answer, not wanting to embarrass him. "So he’s your special guest today?"
"We haven’t seen each other in ages. But he’s been back from America for a week now and will be living here in London." He walks over to his son, who doesn’t even bother to stand up. Mr. Blackthorn looks back at me and says, "It’s good you’re already here. You two should get acquainted."
An uncertain glance from me, is followed by a longer one at Alexander, who’s also staring at me. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I’ll discuss this with my son first. Then I’ll call you back in, Miss Waverley."
That’s my cue to leave. But I already have a sinking suspicion about what this meeting is about, and it would be the end of me. My boss might as well tie a heavy iron chain with an anchor around my neck and throw me into the sea. I can picture it vividly. He stands there smiling, waving at me and calling out: "Bon voyage." Or something like that.
When I close the door behind me, I strain to catch anything through it. Nothing. Not a single word. Great. What a mess.
I retreat to the kitchen, load up on tea, juice, and cookies, then haul my stash back to my desk. It’s just outside Mr. Blackthorn’s office, usually a peaceful little corner where I canwork undisturbed. Well, at least I could, if my thoughts weren't completely elsewhere.
Me: I tried. He was still ice cold. No chance. But the absolute worst part: He's my boss's son!
Nessa: WHAT?
Me: Yes! He only mentioned once that he has a son who lives in America, but I didn't know anything else about him.
Nessa: Oh God...
Me: Yeah, start praying. Maybe the old man up there will actually listen for once and help me out of this mess!
Nessa: And it's all my fault. I deliberately had you drive to the wrong church. I'm so sorry, London. Please, I need to do something. Can I come over? Maybe this guy will talk to me?
Me: This Alexander is an arrogant jerk. Self-absorbed and annoyingly good-looking. The type who always gets what he wants. That’s just how these rich men are. We can forget about it. Completely.
Nessa: Do you think he'll tell his father what happened?
Me: Probably. But here’s what scares me more: my boss is old and starting to get a bit forgetful, and I think he might hand the company down to his son.
