My Boss Made Me Sext Her Billionaire Fiancé Chapter 11
Cancel the Wedding
That night I check my part-time gig group chat.
New posting. High-end gala. One-night waitress gig. Three grand for one shift.
The venue’s owned by one of the biggest companies in the city. Half the group signs up in seconds.
I throw my name in anyway.
Next morning, I’m approved. Weird — those spots go fast.
The night of the gala, I show up in a black uniform and heels that pinch. My coworker is buzzing.
“Lindy, girl, guess whose engagement party this is?”
I balance a tray. “Whose?”
“Nina Sullivan and Xander Shaw. The Shaws are locking in the merger tonight. Everybody who’s anybody is here.”
My hands don’t shake. I’ve decided they won’t.
“Cute.”
She squeezes my arm. “I saw them earlier. Ugh, they’re hot together. Perfect couple.”
I don’t answer.
I carry a tray of hors d’oeuvres into the main hall.
And walk straight into a scene.
Nina’s father — red-faced, spitting mad — voice cutting across the whole ballroom:
“*Cancel* the engagement?! Xander — is my daughter not good enough for you?!”
Every head in the room whips toward the center.
Xander stands with one hand in his pocket. Cold smile. He lifts his eyes lazy and slow.
“Why don’t you ask her yourself, sir?”
Nina stands next to him. White as a sheet. Silent.
Her father grabs her arm. “Nina — you told me things were fine! What happened?!”
Nina opens her mouth. Nothing comes out.
My coworker yanks my sleeve.
“Come *on*, we gotta go refill. Move!”
She drags me out.
—
Ten p.m. Shift over. Cash in my pocket.
I step out the service door.
Xander is leaning against the wall. Hands in his pockets. Waiting.
Like he’s been out here a while.
I walk up to him. My voice is quiet.
“Grandma’s surgery money. That was you, wasn’t it?”
He nods once. His eyes never leave my face.
“About the texts…” He stops. Starts again. His voice cracks.
“I know it was you. The whole time. Talking to me.”
“Lindy—”
He steps closer.
“The girl I fell for. That was you.”
I think about the way he smiled at Nina at the shrimp dinner. The way he sat on that couch and watched Hunter pour whiskey down my throat.
“You’re not mad I lied to you?”
“*No.*” His voice breaks on the word. “I’m glad it was you. If I’d known sooner — I never would’ve hurt you. I swear to God, Lindy, I never would’ve—”
I look up at him for a long moment.
Then, soft:
“Xander. There’s no ‘if’ in real life.”
—
The weeks after, he’s everywhere.
Outside my lecture hall. Outside the candy store. Texts:
“Can I take you to dinner?”
“Just coffee. One coffee.”
“Please.”
I never reply.
One day my classmate elbows me and nods at the window. “Lindy, who’s that guy outside? He always here?”
I keep taking notes. Don’t look up.
“No idea.”
I’m busy. Grandma’s surgery. My grad school applications. Getting my life back.
A month later, Grandma’s surgery is a success. Same week, I get the letter.
Full scholarship. New York. My dream program.
I tell Grandma we’re moving. She cries. I cry. We laugh.
Two days before I leave the city, I bump into Xander one last time.
He’s on the sidewalk with two friends. One of them is pestering him:
“Bro. Bro. What is up with that little ratty bunny in your car? You baby that thing.”
Xander smirks. “Why? Not cute enough for you?”
“…It’s, uh. It’s got character.”
Xander laughs. But his eyes land on me. Across the street. Watching.
“I like it, though.”
—