Chapter 475
Chapter 475:
I stared at him, incredulous. “Don’t tell me you’re actually thinking of buying Fabrizio’s company p>
“Why not? That way, I could move the HQ to Skyline, and you wouldn’t have to travel p>
I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or glare. “That’s not how this works p>
He didn’t seem put off. “Look, if everything goes smoothly, I’ll be back in a week. Maybe sooner. I don’t need a babysitter. This is my job, and I don’t just show up at your office uninvited and tell you what to do, do I p>
He eyed me sharply. “You could show up anytime. You don’t need an invitation. You’re my wife p>
“Fiancée,” I corrected automatically. “Not wife yet p>
“We’re married in the eyes of the law,” he reminded me. “The wedding certificates are real p>
“Right.” I stopped mid-step. “Wait, if that’s the case, why are we still having the wedding p>
“Because it’s a ceremony. A way to officially announce our relationship to the world p>
“I thought we already did that when we went public on X and Insta,” I muttered.
Ashton turned to face me, his tall frame blocking the harsh overhead light. “Are you getting cold feet p>
“Nope,” I said quickly. “My feet are warm, very warm.” I hooked my arm through his elbow. “Let’s go. I’m already late p>
We reached the security checkpoint. I stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “I know your day’s full. Go on. I’m fine p>
As I walked away, I felt his gaze burning into my back.
By the time I cleared security, the gate was nearly finished boarding. Once settled in my seat, I was about to switch my phone to airplane mode when a headline popped up: Granger Development Group again.
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The boardroom drama had been dominating the feeds lately: inheritance mess, family infighting, rumors of a power grab. Apparently, Clive Granger had been sick since last winter. His health had taken a nosedive, and now he was desperate to hand over the company.
The biggest shock? He wasn’t passing control to Rhys, his eldest child and only son. Well, it turns out that last part wasn’t true. Daniel was actually Clive’s illegitimate son.
Word was, Clive planned to transfer thirty percent of the company to Daniel. And Daniel hadn’t wasted time. In a matter of weeks, he’d pushed Rhys out of the management team and raked in massive profits from a new pharmaceutical venture.
I skimmed the article and swiped it away. If Daniel and Rhys were busy tearing each other apart, they’d have less time to bother me. Good.
Hours later, Paris greeted me with gray skies and the thick scent of petrol and damp tarmac.
Fabrizio Marchetti met me at the gate, perfectly put together as usual: tailored suit, flawless tie, not a hair out of place. He grabbed my luggage without asking and led me to a sleek black car waiting outside.
“I’ve arranged a house for you,” he said smoothly as we drove. “You mentioned you don’t like hotels p>
The house was two stories, with a limestone facade, dark green shutters, and high hedges flanking it. Inside, it was serene, with only one housekeeper and the crisp scent of lemon polish and fresh bread filling the air.