“Hello, Mr. Peters.”
“Millie, I know you’re new here, but please stop calling me Mr. Peters. Jackson will do.”
If she says it one more time, I’m going to rip my hair out of my head.Mr. Petersis my father, and hearing that name infuriates me.
“I’m sorry. I keep forgetting. What can I do for you?”
“Can you look in my email? Under the file marked “Annabelle,” there should be an email from last week with where she was having lunch today. I think she sent it on Friday.”
“Sure, hold on.” I hear her clicking away as I wait.
“Mr—I mean, Jackson, it says here she will be at Trumans for a one o’clock lunch meeting.”
“Okay, thanks, Millie. Change of plans, I’ll grab lunch while I’m out; no need to order me anything. I’ll see you later this afternoon.”
I hang up and hustle across the street, zig-zagging to dodge the cars. I have five minutes until her meeting starts, and I’m hoping I can grab her quickly to apologize for this morning and wish her luck again.
Not that she needs it. If anyone deserves this, it’s Belle. She’s put her all into this deal, and I would be shocked if they said otherwise.
Annabelle Hughes is a force to be reckoned with.
Except, looking back on our car ride together, her usual confidence was lacking, and it’s been bothering me that I played a role in her stressful morning.
I walk through the bar and see I’m too late. She’s approaching the table when an older gentleman embraces her in a hug.
“Ciao, Bella.” He greets her with a warm expression, which is promising. If you were going to let someone down, you wouldn’t be so kind. Or is he trying to soften the blow?
A woman holding his hand, maybe his wife, says hello next, complimenting Belle on her favorite suit.
“You ordering, mate?”
“Can I do takeaway?” I ask, not moving my gaze from Belle.
A second later, my proud feeling turns into something entirely different.
My stomach sinks, feeling a wave of unease wash over me as I watch a younger, good-looking man step up, kissing her and allowing his lips to linger longer than appropriate for a client.
What is this shit?
“Sei troppo, Bella.” His seductive voice is low, yet loud enough that I hear it from my hidden spot.
I know that fucking voice. I use that fucking voice.
Excuse me, Iusedthat voice.
No more, because there are no other women for me besides Belle.
He holds her cheek and kisses her again, and I can see Belle blush down her neck onto her chest.
Who the hell is this clown? And what the hell did he say?
I quickly Google what I heard…“You’re too beautiful.”
Bastard.
All I know is he better get his hands off my wife, or he won’t have hands by the end of this meeting.
“Ready to order?”
