Page 88 of The Boss and the Wedding Mess
"What?" I stare at her in astonishment. Her bag—with her phone still inside—since she's not holding one—is hanging on the coat rack.
"Yes, it’s really important. Sorry. You can keep everything, of course. Enjoy!"
She rushes to the door, slips into her heels, and grabs her handbag. Before I can say anything, she’s already out the door.
"Okay, thanks. Um. Well, if you..."
"See you soon!" And she’s gone.
Okay? What was that about?
I stand in the doorway baffled, peering out into the hallway. Stephanie runs to the elevator—then changes her mind and takes the stairs instead. Someone’s in a real hurry.
"And she just ran off?" Vanessa asks, puzzled, as I sit on her couch and we share the pralines.
"Yeah, as if she was completely shocked that Marc had talked to Alex. I mean, those two are best friends. Of course they talk to each other."
"That is really strange," says Vanessa, taking one of the macarons. "God, these are delicious—even the vegan ones. They're just a bit firmer, but otherwise? Absolutely amazing."
"Yeah, I agree... that it’s strange. And that those are delicious."
What could that mean?
"What if you tell Alex about it?"
"I shouldn't get involved," I answer.
"Probably better that way."
Yes. Indeed.
Chapter 26
Alexander
I treat myself to a good whiskey in the club's lounge. There are many men here tonight—familiar faces not just from the media, but also from the real estate and corporate sectors.
Cornelius Grey has surely founded a very exclusive club here. I've already had several interesting conversations and made some good networking. Coming tonight was a good idea—especially since I got my eye on one of the servers, whose hip swaying is extraordinarily appealing.
“Mariella,” says a voice next to me. I glance over and see a man I don’t know. I’d guess he’s in his late thirties, early forties. “She’s a real wildcat in bed and is up for a lot.” He sits down beside meand raises his glass in a toast. “But with the right tip, she can be tamed.”
I lift my glass too, but I don’t comment on his remark.
“Alexander Blackthorn, right?”
“And who do I have the honor of speaking with?” I shoot back immediately.
His cold smile makes it obvious he’s a very stern man, and probably not here just for pleasure.
“Matthias Volt,” he answers curtly. The name, of course, rings a bell right away—the owner of Volt Security himself.
"Out without security?"
“They’re waiting downstairs,” he replies. “It definitely has its advantages not always being in the spotlight.”
True.
I’d never actually known what he looked like. Dark hair slicked back, sharp cheekbones, clean-shaven, dark eyes. His hands look strong, and his gaze is icy. I once heard he has ties to various mafia organizations. Probably necessary if you’re in the security business.
