Chapter 117
Chapter 120
Madison
I wandered over to the railing, clutching my purse like it contained state secrets instead of my lip gloss and phone. The city skyline sparkled across the water, Manhattan’s lights reflecting on the Hudson’s dark surface like scattered diamonds. It was beautiful, but I wasn’t in the mood to appreciate it.
Where had Alexander disappeared to with Leo?
Behind me, laughter erupted from a group of women whose collective jewelry could probably fund my mother’s medical bills for a decade. A silver–haired man in a tuxedo was telling some story that had them all in stitches. Everyone seemed to be having the time of their lives while I stood alone, feeling like an imposter in a world I didn’t belong in.
A couple swayed to the string quartet’s music, the woman’s red gown flowing around her like liquid fire. Another pair in the corner was “discussing business” with their faces about two inches apart. Sure, business–the kind that ends up horizontal.
I checked my phone. No messages from Alexander. Typical. He brings me to this floating palace of wealth and power, then abandons me without explanation. I should be used to his games by now, but somehow, he always found new ways to keep me off–balance.
The string quartet transitioned into something classical that I vaguely recognized but couldn’t name. Around me, New York’s elite mingled and networked, their laughter tinkling like the crystal champagne flutes they held.
I took a sip of water, having set aside the champagne Alexander had warned me not to drink.
“You look like you’re plotting someone’s murder p>
I jumped at Alexander’s voice behind me. He’d materialized out of nowhere, looking unfairly handsome in his tuxedo. Not a hair out of place, not even a hint that he’d been doing… whatever he’d been doing for the past twenty minutes.
“Where did you go, Mr. Knight?” I asked, trying to keep my voice neutral.
His lips quirked up. “Miss me that much p>
“I’m asking where you went, leaving me alone,” I clarified, meeting his gaze directly. “You brought me to this event and then disappeared without a word p>
Alexander glanced around before stepping closer, his cologne enveloping me in that familiar scent that made my knees embarrassingly weak.
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“I found our bartender,” he said quietly, his breath warm against my ear. “A woman hired him to slip something into my drink that night p>
My eyes widened. “What woman? Who was it p>
“That’s the problem. We don’t know who she is–just that she goes by ‘S.‘ We need to find her, and soon.” He ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in the tightness around his eyes.
I felt a chill run down my spine. Someone had deliberately targeted Alexander.
“Shall we go p>
I nodded, relieved to be leaving this floating monument to excess. Alexander guided me through the crowd with practiced ease. People parted for him like the Red Sea for Moses, some nodding respectfully, others trying to catch his attention. He acknowledged a few with brief nods but kept
moving.
As we descended the gangway, the cool night air was a relief after the perfume–heavy atmosphere of the yacht.
His car waited at the curb, and John stood at attention beside it. As we approached, John opened the door.
I slid into the buttery leather interior, still processing what Alexander had just told me. Someone deliberately drugged him? A mysterious woman known as “S“? It sounded like something out of a spy novel. What was her full name?
Alexander settled beside me, his thigh pressing against mine in the spacious backseat. He didn’t need to sit so close; there was plenty of room, but I wasn’t complaining.
“John, take us to Marcello’s,” Alexander instructed, his voice carrying that natural authority that made people jump to attention.
“Yes, sir.” John nodded and pulled away from the curb.
The restaurant was tucked away on a quiet street, its facade understated but elegant. A small brass plaque reading “Marcello’s” was the only indication we were in the right place. John pulled up to the entrance and came around to open our door.
Alexander stepped out first, then extended his hand to help me. As I emerged from the car, in close to John.
“You can head home for the night. I’ll drive Ms. Harper back to her place myself p>
he leaned
John’s expression remained professionally neutral. “Very good, sir. Have a pleasant evening p>
As John walked away, Alexander guided me inside with his hand at the small of my back. The maître d
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‘practically fell over himself greeting Alexander, leading us to a secluded corner booth without even checking a reservation book.
“Mr. Knight, always a pleasure. Your usual table p>
The restaurant was intimate, with soft lighting and white tablecloths. Only about a dozen tables filled the space, each separated enough to ensure privacy. Classical music played softly in the background.
“You must come here often,” I remarked as we settled into our booth.
“When I want to avoid being seen.” Alexander’s eyes met mine over the menu. “The food is excellent, and they understand discretion p>
A waiter appeared with a bottle of wine without being summoned. “The 2015 Barolo, as usual, Mr. Knight p>
“Perfect, thank you, Antonio p>
The waiter poured a small amount for Alexander to taste. He swirled it, sniffed, then nodded his
approval. Antonio filled our glasses and disappeared.
“So,” I said, taking a sip of the wine, which was probably worth more than my weekly salary, “are you going to tell me more about this mysterious ‘S‘ person p>
Alexander’s expression darkened. “There’s not much more to say. The bartender, Tyler, mentioned that she paid him ten thousand dollars to slip something into my drink p>
“But why would someone want to drug you p>
“Corporate espionage, perhaps. Or someone hoping I’d make a fool of myself publicly.” His lips curved into a wicked smile. “Instead, I ended up in bed with my beautiful assistant p>
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Lucky you p>
“Indeed.” He reached across the table, taking my hand. His thumb stroked my palm in a way that was somehow both soothing and arousing. “But I don’t like being manipulated, Madison. I need to find who’s responsible p>
Antonio returned to take our orders. Alexander recommended the truffle risotto, and I went with it. He ordered the osso buco for himself.
When we were alone again, I asked, “Do you have any suspects? Anyone whose name starts with S p>
“Several. Scarlett, for one p>
I nearly choked on my wine. “Why would she drug you p>
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“Scarlett has always been complicated. There’s also Savannah Voss at Apex Industries. We’re competing for the same development project in Chicago p>
The food arrived, saving me from having to respond. The risotto was divine, creamy, and fragrant with earthy truffles. Alexander watched me take my first bite with satisfaction.
“Good p>
“Amazing, Mr. Knight,” I admitted. The rich and earthy flavors danced across my tongue with just the right amount of creaminess. “I might need to find out who the chef is and beg for cooking lessons p>
Alexander smiled, pleased with my reaction. He took a sip of his wine, eyes never leaving mine. “I’ll introduce you after dinner if you’d like p>
I nodded, trying not to think about how natural this felt, sitting across from him in this intimate restaurant, sharing an expensive bottle of wine like we were a normal couple instead of… whatever
we were.
G
Gregory Ellington Author
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Lucia Morh
Lucia Morh is a passionate storyteller who brings emotions to life through her words. When she’s not writing, she finds peace nurturing her garden.