Chapter 23 The Wrong Man
There was something about this man–his private life wasn’t exactly spotless. Or so she assumed.
Elena was still lost in thought when a glass of orange juice appeared in front of her.
“Thanks,” she said, a little surprised, but polite.
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She took a sip and glanced over at Alexander. He’d taken off his blazer, now just in a black shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, revealing strong, lean forearms. His long legs were crossed casually as he looked toward the stage–relaxed, unbothered.
He really did seem to be here just to unwind.
Elena started to feel uneasy. “Alexander, about what I said earlier… have you given it any thought?”
She set the glass down and looked at him. Alexander’s lips barely moved. “No breakup.”
“…What?” That’s… unexpected.
She had braced herself for something like, “We can call it off, but you’re not getting a dime of the inheritance.” Instead, just two words?
“It’s about the inheritance, isn’t it?” She couldn’t figure him out at all.
He replied simply, “My grandfather made a promise to your adoptive father. He asked me to look out for you. He doesn’t go back on his word.”
Ah. So it’s Walter. That made things easier.
“Please let him know–I’m an
adult. I
take care of myself.”
Alexander didn’t respond. He nursed his whiskey, sipping slowly, eyes still on the stage.
It felt like throwing a punch and hitting air. Elena would’ve preferred him picking a fight. At least then she could fight back. But this, this calm, gentlemanly indifference, made her the only one who looked dramatic if she lost it.
So instead, she stabbed a piece of fruit on her plate and chewed with a little more spite than necessary. More desserts arrived. Cakes, her favorite kind too.
Well. Not a total waste of a night.
After two slices of cake and a few pieces of fruit, she was about to follow up again–when a voice cut through the air behind her.
“Seriously, Adrian? Tina went all in for you. And now that you’re getting engaged, you’re just gonna pretend
she doesn’t exist?”
The voice sounded familiar. Elena’s stomach dropped.
She instantly thought of the two girls she’d seen at the restaurant that day. Dropping the orange peel she was holding, she quickly turned around. A group had gathered in the back booth.
At the center sat a young man in a military jacket and ripped jeans, bright red hair catching the neon lights. Legs spread wide, a cigarette dangling from his lips.
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Chapter 23 The Wrong Man
And his face—he looked eerily similar to Alexander.
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Two girls stood in front of him, and one of them was Tia, the same girl Elena had seen before. She looked like she was holding back tears, staring at the red–haired guy with pure betrayal in her eyes.
Elena’s cyes narrowed. So… this guy–not Alexander–was the one who broke her heart? Suddenly it all clicked.
Alexander had brought her here just to watch this little cene unfold. Oh God. And she had actually lectured him over the phone for being a player?
Elena turned back around in her seat, face burning. Alexander had already set down his glass. Those usually aloof eyes carried the faintest hint of a smile. “So?” he said. “Does this clear up your misunderstanding?”
Elena was mortified. “…Yeah. Sorry. That one’s on me.”
Thankfully, he didn’t drag it out. “So. About the engagement?”
“We keep it,” she replied without hesitation.
If he wasn’t the one screwing around, then what reason did she have to walk away? Wealthy, good–looking. well–mannered–and now, innocent? She wasn’t seeing a downside.
She might’ve imagined it, but it looked like a smile flickered across Alexander’s lips when she said that. With the misunderstanding cleared up, Elena didn’t feel so guarded anymore.
After a few more bites of fruit, she wiped her lips with a napkin. “I’m heading to the restroom.”
Walking back from the restroom, Elena glanced at her phone. Nathan had asking her to call him back.
ent over a dozen messages. All
She ignored them and slid the phone into her pocket. Then–bam. She bumped into someone.
“Sorry,” she said quickly. Totally her fault–she hadn’t been paying attention.
She was about to walk away when a rough hand yanked her wrist hard, pulling her backward. She nearly cried out from the sudden force.
A cloud of alcohol hit her like a wall. The man she’d bumped into was clearly drunk, his face flushed and greasy. He grinned at her, eyes locked on her face.
“Well, well… you bump into me and just walk off?” he slurred. “You gotta make it up to me, sweetheart. I’m hurt.”
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
