’OUT WITH THE OLD, IN WITH THE NEW: BILLIONAIRE CEO MATTEO MONTGORY CHANGES FIANCEE YET AGAIN!’
Alia’s eyes squinted as she stared at the title of Lady Vanity’s newest article. It seed like soone in their office had leaked the quick peck that Emline had given Matteo in the office earlier, and this new source was now the leading magazine’s newest splash.
Whoever had taken it should consider quitting their office job and taking up a position as a photographer instead. The image only captured Emline and Matteo, but in a small corner in the background, Alia could be seen, her hands clenched into fists.
How cinematic.
Stuffing her phone into her pocket, Alia hastily sped down the street. She didn’t care that it was theoretically ten minutes before work ended― if she had to stay there in the office a second longer, she might get brought down to the police station for attempted assault.
Instead, before she realized it, Alia found herself right outside of Paragon Luxe. She looked up at the na of the club and then snorted. Even when trying to avoid Matteo, she ended up at an establishnt he owned.
Wonderful.
"Alia?" Cherry greeted when Alia stepped in, making her way to the bar counter where Cherry was.
It was still early and the club wasn’t packed yet. However, there already were a few other regular patrons Alia recognized from when she still worked here.
"What are you doing here?" Cherry asked. "Where’s Matteo?"
"Probably having dessert with Emline Hawthorne," Alia grumbled under her breath.
"Emline Hawthorne?" Cherry echoed, making a face. She wrinkled her nose. "You must be mistaken. Matteo hates Emline."
"Not anymore," Alia said. She showed Cherry the article she was viewing just now and Cherry’s eyes bulged out. "Guess our engagent is no more."
"Oh sweetie," Cherry said, furrowing her eyebrows as she finally tore her eyes away from the screen. "I am so sorry. I― Matteo isn’t usually this type of man, but― I’ll have a word with him! He can’t just break your heart like that―!"
"There’s no need, Cherry," Alia said. "Actually, Matteo and I aren’t really―"
"Cheryl!" soone called from the crowd and Cherry imdiately made a face. "I need another couple of bottles of your finest!"
"It’s ’Cherry’, you twat!" she yelled back, shaking her first. Her voice softened before she turned to Alia and said, "Hold that thought, Alia. I need to see what this guy wants."
Jumping over the counter, she was gone.
Alia sighed. She looked back and forth, hoping to find a bartender, but there was no one on duty yet. Making her way to the other side of the counter, she grabbed herself a glass and poured her own drink, having done so before a million other tis. She made a ntal note to pay Cherry back when she returned.
Grabbing the strongest liquor available, she swung her head back and took a gulp. The alcohol burned her throat. The second her lips left the glass, soone took a seat at the counter.
"Whiskey. On the rocks," the man said.
"Oh, I’m not―"
"Yeah yeah, I don’t care who you are," the man gruffly said, waving his hand nonchalantly. His eyes were glued to his phone. "Whiskey. Now."
Alia pursed her lips and moved to grab a glass. Cherry didn’t seem to be coming back any ti soon. It wouldn’t hurt to help with such a simple drink. As soon as she was done, she slid the drink over to the man.
"Here," she said. "Whiskey on the rocks."
The man grunted once before taking the glass, his fingers accidentally grazing hers. However, his eyes fell on her soft pale hands, and slowly, his eyes glided up her wrist, to her shoulder, to her neck, and then her face. Instantly, his eyes widened, and the gaze in his eyes turned greasy.
"Well," he said, making no move to take the glass nor remove his hand from hers. "Aren’t you a doll?"
Alia raised an eyebrow. She pulled her hand back instantly, but the man wasn’t about to let her. He snapped forward and tightened his grip on her wrist, holding her to her place.
"What are you doing?" Alia gritted out, alard. "Let go!"
"What do you say you join for a drink in one of the private rooms?" the man continued. He smiled, leaning closer to her and pulling her so that the back of her hand was now nearly pressed against his lips.
Alia sucked in a cold gasp of air, but before she could reply, the man was roughly pushed to one side. He stumbled a little and instinctively let go of Alia’s hand, to which she breathed out in relief.
Thank goodness.
"Thank you―" Her words of thanks were clogged in her throat when her eyes landed on a familiar tuft of blond hair, practically glittering like sunlight in the dim lighting of the club. Caleb stood like a knight in shining armor in between Alia and the man, using his muscular body to shield her from view.
"The fuck?" the man said once he regained his bearings. He glared at Caleb and sneered. "What is your problem, dude?"
"She said to leave her alone," Caleb said, his voice filled with warning. "Have your drink sowhere else."
"I want to enjoy my drink with a lovely lady on my lap," the man said greasily. He then leaned back, understanding dawning on his face.
"You of all people should understand, right, Caleb Walton?" he said with a laugh. "I have seen you with a new hostess here every night for the last year. Haven’t seen you in a while, though."
The man finally picked up his drink and finished it in one gulp. He kept his eyes on Caleb, grinning.
"Is this Miss the wife you cheated on? I thought she looked familiar," he taunted, causing both Alia and Caleb to grit their teeth. "I know what you said to the paps was a lie. Word on the street is that you abandoned her after finding a new warm hole to fuck―"
He hadn’t even the chance to finish his sentence when Caleb raised his fist, his knuckles connecting with the man’s cheekbones with a sickening crunch.
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