Page 28 of King of Deception

nine

Head in the Clouds

Ella Rose

“And then we exchanged numbers!” I leaned over the table, glowering at Alex.

“So?” he chuckled, securing his glass of water while his other hand held the surface in place. “Chill. What’s the matter with you?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

Rolling his eyes, he sat back, taking his mimosa with him. “Don’t tell me it’s because he’s a waiter. I’ll be so disappointed!”

“No!” my pitch climbed up. “It’s because he has zero ambition.”

Mockingly, he widened his eyes. “Oh.”

“Oh? That’s exactly how everyone will react on my fiftieth birthday when I announce that I’m VP of Finance while Abel’s still serving cocktails.”

“Damn, girl, you’re spiraling.”

“Excuse you?”

“You literally just met this guy—”

“And slept with him,” I winced, putting my hands over my head. “What was I thinking?”

“You were in the moment. You were mad at Jude, and you had some fun.”

“But that’s precisely how I ended up with Jude. Couldn’t resist his charms, overlooked all the signals… and now I have a stalker and no relationship.”

“You’re twenty-eight.” He faked a scared look from over his glass as he sipped.

“Which is why I should know better. What am I doing?”

“Oh my God, Ella. You’re blowing this out of proportion.”

“I’m freaking out.”

“I don’t know why. If he calls you, just don’t answer. I’m sure he’ll get the message.”

“Right. Like that worked with Jude.”

“From what I heard, he’s the opposite of Jude.”

“Yeah? How? Painfully good looking—check.” I held up my fingers, counting, “Popular with the ladies—check. Somehow fits into the crowd of the rich and famous, even though he doesn’t actually have any skills to grant him a position there—fucking check!”

“Funny? I can’t recall a single time Jude made me laugh—uncheck. Content with his job and life? Jude was never satisfied, clawing his way up with his nails and teeth—uncheck. And let’s not forget… cunning!” he chuckled. “Sorry, sister, but you have to admit that he got you into bed, making it look like it was your idea.”

“God!” I groaned before realizing that the waiter was towering over me with my brunch.

“Green egg white omelet,” he said as he carefully lowered my plate onto the table.

“Thanks,” I grinned in an attempt to erase the memory of me acting weird a second ago.

“And orange blossom ricotta pancakes for you.” He put the dish in front of Alex, whose eyes instantly gleamed. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, could you bring my friend here some chamomile tea?” Alex pointed at me with a lazy finger. “She’s having a panic attack.”

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