After the gala was still going on, the lights dazzling and the music humming through the hall, George’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out, glanced at the screen, and his lips parted slightly.
A message from Rosy.
Rosy: George, please can we talk? I’m in your mansion.
His jaw tightened.
For a second, he just stared at the message, the noise around him fading. Then he looked up to see Thalia was laughing softly, surrounded by businessmen and women, her glass of champagne in her hand. She didn’t even notice when he slipped his phone back into his pocket and quietly turned to leave.
Without thinking twice, he walked out of the hall, loosened his tie, and headed straight for his car.
As he drove into the night, his thoughts spun wildly.
What does she want to talk about now?
H
