Page 79 of I'm sorry, Princess
I’m going to destroy Beaumont.
Not just him, his entire family.
And I’ll start with his daughter.
Chapter Twenty-four
Lorenzo
The Moretti Estates 20th Anniversary. Another tedious, fucking pointless party where I’m expected to play nice, smile, and pretend I enjoy socializing with people I barely tolerate.
The anniversary is tomorrow, and Ashley already planned every detail. She’s efficient, obsessively so, and if there’s one thing, she’s good at, it’s organizing these events.
Invitations have already gone out, even to the Attorney General and his lovely, perfect little family.
I wonder if she’ll come.
The thought lingers longer than it should, but I push it aside. I have more important matters to deal with.
The news from Andres hit me harder than I’d like to admit. I told him to keep digging, to find every scrap of information he could about my father’s dealings withBeaumont. Something doesn’t add up. Francesco confirmed the basics about the business proposal, but there’s more. There’s always more.
The knock at my office door pulls me from my thoughts.
I don’t bother looking up. The sound of her heels clicking against the floor tells me exactly who it is. Ashley.
Her tall frame comes into view, and I already know why she’s here. It’s the same thing every year, and I know how this ends.
Her eyes meet mine as she steps into the room, her usual uniform on full display, red lipstick, a low neckline that barely conceals her assets, and legs that go on forever beneath a silk dress.
She leans against the doorframe, confidence oozing from her every move.
“Mr. Moretti,” she begins, her voice smooth and practiced, “we need to discuss your plus one for tomorrow.”
I don’t bother lifting my head from my phone. I’m in the middle of texting Kirill. He needs me to deal with some senator who’s become a problem. It’s always senators.
“Mhm?” I mutter, barely acknowledging her.
Let her interpret that however she wants. It’s more entertaining that way.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see her shift her weight, waiting for me to give her my full attention. But I don’t. Not yet.
She knows the game, and she plays her part well.
But I have little patience for games tonight.
There are bigger things at play, and this party, this conversation, it’s just noise.
Noise I’ll deal with, as always.
But first, Kirill.
And then, perhaps, I’ll decide what Ashley deserves this year.
I’ve never seen Ashley annoyed, at least, not visibly. She’s too good at keeping her composure. But I know what she’s waiting for. She probably wants me to ask her to the party, like every other year.
“Lorenzo, you need a date for tomorrow,” she says finally, her tone perfectly professional but edged with expectation. “Do you have someone in mind, or shall we go with our usual arrangement and attend together?”
There it is.
