A Secretive Deal with My Billionaire Boss novel Chapter 220

Madison

I stared at Hazel, considering her question. What’s the worst that could happen? Alexander could fire me. Or laugh in my face. Or realize I was jealous, which I definitely wasn’t.

“I haven’t thought about asking him directly,” I admitted. “Maybe I could casually mention Katherine’s name and see how he reacts.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Hazel clapped her hands together. “Just drop it into conversation naturally. Like, ‘Oh, I met someone named Katherine today at the coffee shop. Isn’t that funny?“”

“You think that would work?”

“Worth a shot.” Hazel nodded, stretching her arms above her head. “Just remember, some men get weird when you bring up ex–girlfriends. Like, nuclear meltdown weird.”

“What do you mean?”

“Some men are strange creatures,” Hazel explained, shifting to face me directly. “They’ll talk about sports statistics from 1987 but mention an ex, and suddenly they’ve got amnesia. My ex would literally leave the room if I brought up his college girlfriend.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. It’s like they’re allergic to their romantic history. Either they get super defensive or pretend the relationship never happened.” She shrugged. “It’s some psychological thing–they compartmentalize better than we do. Once a relationship is over, they box it up and stick it in the attic of their mind.”

I considered this. “So if Alexander gets weird when I mention Katherine…”

“Then she definitely matters,” Hazel finished my thought. “Or mattered. A lot.”

“I’ll try mentioning her name casually and see how he reacts,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

“Good luck with that,” Hazel smirked. “So, speaking of Alexander…. do you call him Mr. Knight all the time?”

I felt my cheeks flush. “Only at the office.”

“Mmhmm.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “And what about when you’re alone? Still Mr. Knight, then?”

“No, of course not,” I lied, avoiding her gaze. “I call him Alexander. Sometimes Alex.”

“Alex,” she repeated, testing the name. “Cute. Very intimate.”

I nodded, hoping she’d drop it. The truth was, I’d never called him anything but Mr. Knight. Even during our most intimate moments, he was always Mr. Knight. And strangely, he’d never corrected me or asked me to use

his first name.

Maybe he preferred keeping that distance between us. Maybe using his title maintained the power dynamic he seemed to enjoy so much. Or maybe he actually liked hearing me call him Mr. Knight in private. Ct

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Chapter 220

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For his part, he always called me Madison, only switching to Ms. Harper in professional settings or around others. The contrast wasn’t lost on me.

“You know what you should do?” Hazel’s eyes lit up with mischief. “Start calling him pet names. Men love that stuff.”

“What?” I nearly choked. “Like what, exactly?”

“I don’t know. Honey, baby, sweetheart.” She ticked them off on her fingers. “Or get creative–tiger, stud muffin, hot stuff.”

I burst out laughing. “Can you imagine his face if I called him ‘stud muffin‘ in the middle of a board meeting?”

“That’s exactly my point!” Hazel slapped the couch cushion. “It would drive him crazy. Men like him need to be knocked off balance sometimes. Trust me, he’ll fall even harder.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said, trying to picture myself calling Alexander anything but Mr. Knight. The thought alone made my cheeks burn.

“You should try it,” Hazel insisted. “Whisper it in his ear when no one’s around. Watch him melt.”

“I said I’ll try it,” I replied, more to shut her up than anything else.

Hazel stretched her legs across the couch, her expression shifting from playful to thoughtful. “Wait a minute. Do you know where Katherine lives? Maybe we could track her down directly.”

“Caroline mentioned something about London,” I said, recalling our conversation. “She said Katherine went there a few years back.”

“London?” Hazel’s eyes lit up. She pulled her laptop back onto her knees. “That narrows things down.”

“What are you doing now?” I leaned over to see her screen.

“Going back to Discord, but with better search parameters.” Her fingers flew across the keyboard. “Katherine… London… Knight…”

I watched as she navigated through several servers, typing rapidly. “You think you’ll find her?”

“You underestimate the power of bored rich people with nothing better to do than gossip.” She clicked through to another server called “International Elite.” “These people document everything.”

After a few minutes of searching, Hazel let out a triumphant “Aha!” and turned the screen toward me.

“I found three possibilities,” she said, pointing at her screen. “One is Katherine Williams, a famous athlete who dated a British royal. Another is Katherine Astor, daughter of some tech billionaire who’s known for her designer bag collection.”

“And the third?” I asked, my heart beating faster.

“Katherine Sinclair.”

“Who’s Katherine Sinclair?” I leaned closer, trying to see the screen.

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“Let me check…” Hazel scrolled through the page and then clicked on a photo attachment. “Boom. Got a picture.

“I

She turned the laptop toward me, and I felt the air leave my lungs. The photo showed a stunning woman at what appeared to be a high–end charity gala. She stood alone, champagne flute in hand, wearing a backless emerald gown that hugged every perfect curve. Her blonde hair cascaded over one shoulder in elegant waves, and her smile, confident and alluring, commanded attention even through the screen.

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