A Secretive Deal with My Billionaire Boss novel Chapter 191

Chapter 191
Madison
I waited until I was home, comfortably seated on my couch with a steaming mug of coffee in hand, to text Hazel about the article. The soft cushions beneath me provided a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling in my mind.
Me: I talked to Alexander about that article. It’s an old photo from months ago. There’s nothing to worry about.
Her response was immediate, like she’d been hovering over her phone waiting.
Hazel: Are you SURE? Men lie, Madison. Especially rich playboys with a different model on their arm every month.
Me: He explained everything. The photo is from a business dinner before we started dating.
Hazel: And you believe him? Just like that?
I took a sip of coffee, considering my response. Did I believe him? The way he’d handled Wilson from PR certainly suggested he was genuinely upset about the article.
Me: Yes, I believe him. He was pretty angry about the article.
Hazel: OF COURSE he was angry! He got caught!
Me: No, angry that his PR team didn’t catch it first. He basically destroyed that poor Wilson PR right in front of me.
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Hazel: Hmm. Still suspicious. I’ve read too many stories about guys like him. Just be careful, okay? I don’t want you getting hurt.
Me: I appreciate the concern, but it’s fine. Really.
Hazel: If you say so… But if that billionaire cheats on my best friend, I swear I won’t let him breathe. I’ll find him and make him regret it.
I snorted. The image of her confronting Alexander was both terrifying and hilarious.
Me: I’m pretty sure that’s illegal, but I appreciate the sentiment.
Hazel: I’m just saying! Best friends protect each other. And I’ve been taking kickboxing classes.
Me: For two weeks.
Hazel: Still counts! My instructor says I have “natural aggression.”
糖
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I laughed out loud, nearly spilling my coffee.
Me: I’ll keep that in mind. But seriously, if you see any more articles or photos of Alexander with other women, let me know.
Hazel: You want me to spy on your boyfriend? HELL YES. I was BORN for this mission!
Me: Not spying exactly. Just… keeping an eye out.
Hazel: Say no more. Operation Catch-The-Cheating-CEO is officially launched! I’ll even take pictures if I spot him in the wild with another woman.
Me: Perfect. Thanks, Hazel.
Hazel: Anything for you! But seriously, be careful with him. Men like that don’t change overnight.
I set my phone down and leaned back against the couch cushions, staring at the ceiling. Was I being naive? Alexander had a reputation that preceded him, a long list of beautiful women and short-lived relationships. The tabloids loved documenting his exploits.
But I hadn’t seen him with anyone else since our arrangement began. No suspicious late-night calls, unexplained absences, or lipstick on his collar (did people still check for that?). He’d been focused on
work and on me.
Still, I couldn’t shake the tiny seed of doubt Hazel had planted. What if he was seeing someone else? What if this whole exclusivity thing was just a way to keep me in line while he did whatever-and whoever he wanted?
My phone buzzed again.
Hazel: Forgot to ask – how’s the sex? Still mind-blowing?
I groaned. Hazel never gave up.
Me: I’m not discussing this.
Hazel: That good, huh? Fine, keep your dirty secrets.
Me: They’re not dirty. Just private.
Hazel: Same difference! But seriously, I’ve got your back. If I see that man with anyone who isn’t you, I’ll document it so thoroughly it could stand up in court.
I laughed despite myself.
Me: Thanks, I appreciate it.
Hazel: Don’t thank me yet. I’ll even follow them if necessary. I’ve activated full stalker mode.
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Me: Please don’t get arrested.
Hazel: Worth it for the tea! But my investigative services aren’t free, you know.
Me: What’s your price?
Hazel: Drinks. This weekend. No excuses. I need details about this relationship that you’re so secretive about. And I need tequila.
Me: Fine. Drinks are on me. But NO tequila.
Hazel: We’ll see about that! Saturday at 8, our usual spot?
Me: Done. Now I’ve got to go get ready.
Hazel: Hot date with Mr. Moneybags?
Me: Dinner at his place.
Hazel: “Dinner.” Right. Don’t forget to eat actual food at some point!
I rolled my eyes and tossed my phone onto the bed. The clock read 6:45, just over an hour before I needed to be at Alexander’s penthouse. I wasn’t sure what to expect tonight after our confrontation in his office about the Scarlett Reynolds article.
The hot shower helped ease some of the tension in my shoulders. As steam filled the bathroom, I tried to sort through my jumbled thoughts. Alexander had denied the allegations about Scarlett, and I believed him. Mostly. But Hazel’s warnings kept replaying in my mind.
“The man changes women faster than I change my profile pic!”
I shook my head, water droplets spraying against the glass shower door. That was before our arrangement. He’d promised exclusivity, and I had no reason to doubt him.
Besides, as I wrapped a towel around my body, I reminded myself that this wasn’t a real relationship. It was a contract, a business deal, and my feelings shouldn’t enter into it.
I blow-dried my hair, letting it fall in loose waves around my shoulders, the way Alexander had once mentioned he liked it. Not that I was doing it for him. I just happened to prefer it that way, too.
My closet presented the usual dilemma. What exactly did one wear to a private dinner with one’s fake billionaire boyfriend? I settled on a simple black dress that hugged my curves without being too
obvious.
I applied minimal makeup, just enough to enhance my features without looking like I was trying too hard. I was ready with a spritz of perfume and a pair of modest heels.
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The Uber dropped me off in front of Alexander’s building at precisely 7:58 PM.
The private elevator whisked me up to the penthouse in seconds. My stomach fluttered with anticipation and lingering unease from the day’s events. When the doors opened directly into Alexander’s foyer, I took a deep breath and stepped out.
The penthouse was dimly lit, with soft jazz playing in the background. The scent of something delicious wafted from the kitchen.
“Mr. Knight?” I called out, setting my purse on the marble-topped console table.
“In here,” his voice replied from the direction of the kitchen.