Zella
“She's a gold digger,”
I raised my brow at the woman a few seats away on the high table who was gossiping with her friends very loud enough for me to hear.
The ballroom glowed with chandeliers, and there was the buzz of too many voices. The conference had been Isaiah’s idea of “a simple outing,” but there was nothing simple about it. There was nothing simple about Isaiah, I was beginning to learn. The press had to have taken at least a thousand pictures of us right from when he arrived till now as we sat.
I could already picture the headlines - Isaiah King and his new, gold digging, young bride.
“Ignore them,” the source of my problems muttered, squeezing my knee with his hand. He looked like the picture of ruthless elegance. His usual black suit and that stony expression o
