Boss, Your Ex-Wife is Unreachable Now! novel Chapter 39

"Is it really that soon?" Rosamund feigned a sigh, her tone playful. "And here I was, thinking you two missed me as much as I miss you, hoping we could all get together again as soon as possible."

York caught himself—he'd clearly said the wrong thing. He hurried to make amends. "Not soon at all! Actually, Beasley and I were just talking about throwing you a huge welcome-back party. Since you're coming home on Christmas, why not make it that day?"

Beasley shot York a look, brow furrowing.

York noticed and quickly changed the subject. "Anyway, Rosa, you haven't told me why you called. Did something happen?"

Rosamund's warm laugh drifted through the phone. "Nothing serious. I just wanted to ask if there's anything you or Beasley would like me to bring back as souvenirs."

She added, "A gift should be something that really means something to you, otherwise what's the point?"

Her easy confidence came through in her voice—none of the coyness or pretense some women affected. York liked that about her. In fact, sometimes he couldn't help but compare Rosamund to Willow.

Willow, when they'd first met, had seemed utterly charming—beautiful, clever, with those clear, guileless eyes that gave the impression she was untouched by the world. But that was just the surface. Underneath, she was calculating, always scheming.

A true two-faced operator: sweet and innocent in public, cold and sharp in private.

These days, she didn't even bother to keep up the act—she barely hid her disdain for him and Beasley.

"York, why'd you go quiet?"

Rosamund's puzzled voice yanked York out of his thoughts before they could wander further.

He snapped back to the present. "Oh, sorry! I'll ask Beasley what he wants. As for me, anything from you is perfect."

Beasley shot him another glare.

Before York could even pass along the question, Beasley spoke for himself. "It's the thought that counts. I'm not picky."

York, of course, had his own spin on that. "He says the same as me—anything you pick, he'll love."

"Do you have a lead actor in mind?" Beasley asked.

He'd invested in a couple of movies before, but never meddled in casting. His only demand to the director was to make a good film—money was never an issue.

That approach had paid off handsomely; both films had raked in box office hits worth billions.

But this time it was different. York was the driving force, and Rosamund was the star. There was no way York hadn't thought about the male lead.

Sure enough, York grinned. "I do. Though he's a newcomer."

Beasley's eyebrow arched higher. "Who?"

York revealed the answer with a flourish. "Eve's classmate—Emmett Simmons."