Page 28 of The Boss and the Wedding Mess
Back at my desk, I close all my applications, shut down the computer, and take my empty teacup to the kitchen. Only then do I check my phone. Vanessa has sent me dozens of messages, but I’ll deal with those later because a new number has popped up.
Nervously, I tap the chat.
Stephanie: : Hey, it's me. The bride who almost didn't get married. Alexander gave me your number. If you have time tomorrow after work, I'd really appreciate it if we could meet. Preferably at your place. I'd rather not discuss certain things in public, and Marc is here all the time.
Me: Hey. I'm really glad you want to talk to me. I want to apologize in advance and explain to you tomorrow, calmly, how this terrible mix-up happened. I'll happily send you my address. I probably won't be home until around 5:30 PM today, and maybe tomorrow too. So if you'd like to come around 6, I'll definitely have time for you. Is there anything special you'd like to drink or eat? Tea? Coffee? Cookies? Let me know so I can pick up a few things.
I grab my bag and type the last words while walking, then send the message and head to the elevator. Okay, let’s see—what else do I need to do today? Shopping would be good. And go to the gym later. I really need to work out hard and get my butt in gear.
Downstairs, I say goodbye to security and head to my car. Of course, I notice the looks from others. I was never popular, but once you start paying attention, the staring is uncomfortable. I don’t even want to know how bad my reputation is. Being a woman in such a high position isn’t easy, and my female colleagues especially seem to need someone to hate. They probably bet on whether I’m sleeping with my boss—and now surely assume I’m going after Alexander too.
Ridiculous. They should get to know Mr. Blackthorn better. He’s such a wonderful person. Well, except when it comes to theft. Or tardiness. Okay, fine—he does have his quirks, but he's an old-school gentleman. If you behave properly, he has no reason to get upset.
I slip into my car, kick off my high heels, and massage my feet before pulling on my comfy sneakers. I’ll change clothes as soon as I get home then head straight to the gym. I want to hit the treadmill, do some time on the ergometer, and strength training. The more muscles, the more I burn—which means I can eat more. And I love food.
If Stephanie replies soon, I’ll shop beforehand, so I don’t have to do it tomorrow after work.
Well, let's go. Home it is.
Chapter 10
Alexander
“Alexander?” she asks nervously.
At first glance, she looks like a doll come to life, but her expression gives her away—she’s shy.
“Do we know each other?” I ask. Wouldn’t be the first time someone came running up after a one-night stand. But I haven’t been in London for what feels like an eternity, and I’d remember someone like her. Unless she completely reinvented herself. She’s not really my type anyway—I go for classic elegance, not so colorful.
“My name is Vanessa. I’m London’s best friend. Your PA.”
Perfect. Just what I needed.
“And I take it she has no idea you’re here talking to me?”
“I’ve been texting her all afternoon, but she hasn’t replied. London gets so wrapped up in work she forgets everything else.” She takes a step closer. I’m only a few feet from my car. “I wanted to apologize in person. London had nothing to do with the church incident.”
“Well…” I appreciate her loyalty, but still: “As far as I remember, she stormed into the church.”
“Yes, but that’s my fault. I gave her the wrong address on purpose—I didn’t realize a wedding was happening there. She was so determined, and I panicked. It’s all on me. Please don’t fire her! She loves her job!”
I sigh. "And to tell me this, you came all the way here to talk to me?"
“I took a taxi.”
“You don’t drive?”
“I had a few drinks.” And she's been crying too. "Things are a bit rough right now,” she sobs. “And now I’ve ruined London’s career because I—” Her words dissolve into loud, bitter sobs.
“Okay, okay. Breathe.” I should have some tissues in the car. I dig into the glove box, find a pack, and hand them to her. She follows me and immediately goes through two of them.
“I’ll drive you home and you’ll get some rest, okay?” That sounds like a reasonable idea.
She nods tearfully and I step aside so she can slip into the passenger seat. Looks like I’m taking a detour tonight, but this way I'll get to know her a bit better. With some luck, she might share some insider stories about London and give me teasing fodder.
I slide in, buckle up, then remind her: “Seatbelt, please.”
“Oh—right! Yes, yes..." She needs another tissue, then she puts on her belt too. “By the way, this is a really nice car.”
