Chapter 35

Chapter 35:

The building stood like a smug, glass monolith right in the middle of downtown, prime real estate with a reflective metal façade that flashed sunlight in every direction, as if it were trying to blind the poor.

Sixty-eight floors of money.

It towered over everything, like it knew it owned the skyline.

LGH didn’t just deal in real estate and finance.

They had their fingers in every pie—tech, hospitality, tourism, you name it. If it generated income, they were knee-deep in it.

The place was also a hotspot for influencers and wannabe TikTok stars. I’d passed it plenty of times and seen people doing twirls or filming dance routines right outside the entrance.

I’d never actually gone in.

Inside, it was all clean lines, matte finishes, and subtle displays of wealth. Like, “Yes, this chair costs more than your car, but we won’t mention it.” You couldn’t get past the lobby without clearance.

Which meant I was promptly intercepted by the front desk, where a girl with perfect eyeliner looked me up and down like I’d shown up to a Met Gala in Crocs.

“You can’t go upstairs without an appointment,” she said, smiling the way dentists do before drilling into a nerve. “Mr. Laurent gets swamped with requests every day. His calendar’s booked out months in advance.” She gave me another once-over.

I could tell exactly what she was thinking—here’s another one, trying to land a billionaire with a fresh blowout and a hopeful bra. Joke’s on her. I hadn’t even bothered with mascara.

“Maybe come back in three months,” she suggested, this time with a sprinkle of pity.

I didn’t argue.

There was no point.

I found a seat in the lobby’s visitor zone and texted him: I’m at LGH. Can I leave the jacket at reception?

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Ten minutes ticked by.

Then five more.

By the time the reply came, I was seconds away from hurling the jacket at the nearest bin and calling it a day.

Ashton: “Contact Dominic Everett, my assistant p>

He sent a phone number.

No explanation.

No “thanks p>

I stared at the message, already annoyed.

All this hassle for one stupid jacket.

First, I had to take time off.

Then I got treated like a groupie or wannabe gold-digger.

Now I had to track down his assistant like I was hand-delivering the Ark of the Covenant?

God, I was such a mug.

All this effort for a guy who texted like a contract clause.

Still, I’d already come this far.

Might as well see it through and avoid the karmic curse of unfinished favors.

I called the number.

Not five minutes later, the elevator dinged, and out walked a man—tall, sharp suit, not a hair out of place.

He moved like he had three meetings and a merger deal waiting, but still smiled when he reached me.

“Thanks for coming all this way, Miss Vance. I’ll take the jacket from here p>

At least someone here had manners.

I handed it over, then asked, mostly to make conversation, “Is your boss in a meeting p>

Dominic blinked. “Mr. Laurent didn’t come in today. No meetings. He’s… on a date p>

“A date?” The word just slipped out. “With who p>

Dominic glanced around.

He looked like a kid sitting on a Christmas secret.

Clearly dying to spill, but also shackled by his corporate leash.

I just stared at him.

Waited.

Eventually, the leash snapped.

“Octavia Grey,” he whispered, like it was classified intel. “She’s been after our boss for ages p>

I blinked.

Octavia Grey.

The hottest A-lister on the planet right now.

She had just won the biggest film award in the country for some critically acclaimed indie drama.

You couldn’t open your phone without her face popping up—red carpets, interviews, aesthetic brunch pics.

She had that lethal combo of fame, talent, and bone structure.

But I’d seen her in clips—she was the definition of icy-hot.

Always looked like she’d sooner roll her eyes than flirt.

And now she was chasing Ashton Laurent.

While I was trying to process the mental image of those two breathing the same air, Dominic dropped another bomb.

“Miss Vance, I’m sure you know, um, our boss is in a rush to get married p>

I didn’t know whether to laugh or wince.

The fact that even Ashton’s assistant openly discussed his desperation to tie the knot made my brain glitch.

I said, “Yeah, I know p>

Ashton had said he wanted me to think about his little marriage proposal.

But from the looks of things, I wasn’t the only one on his shortlist. If I said no, maybe he’d be signing marriage papers with Octavia Grey by tomorrow.

The man wasn’t kidding about being in a rush.

It was a business deal for him, obviously.

He probably thought any warm body would do.

But was it the same for me?

If I said no to him, would I also have options?

Technically, yes.

There was Rhys, with Louisa’s blessing, and Leonard—someone my mother tried to set me up with.

Last night, I blocked Rhys.

It felt amazing for about seven hours.

Then this morning, he called me from two different numbers, like a desperate Tinder ghost who couldn’t take a hint.

And my mother had been blowing up my phone too.

I didn’t even need to pick up to know what she’d say.

Looking at it now, marriage with Ashton might actually be the smartest move I could make, and possibly the only move, short of moving away and changing my name.

Dominic spoke again.

“Please excuse my being so direct, but I’ve worked with Mr. Laurent for years and, trust me, he’s not into those celebrity types. You’re the one he’s most satisfied with, Miss Vance. You should really consider your position p>

“Right.” I nodded. “I’ll think about it p>