Chapter 8
Apr 30, 2025
Miranda’s POV
I froze. The air in my lungs halted halfway as I stared at the man standing in front of me.
“Boss?” I blinked twice, still not trusting my eyes.
His brow furrowed as he called out again. “Kayla?”
I winced at the name. It had been weeks since I left the company. Why did it sting so much to hear it from him?
“What are you doing here?” I asked, clutching my purse tighter. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to deal with my ex-boss on a day like.
But he looked just as startled as I saw. His sharp features shifted from confusion to curiosity in a matter of seconds.
“I could ask you the same thing,” he replied with a slight smirk, stepping aside so I could fully exit the narrow hallway near the café entrance. “Didn’t expect to bump into you, of all people.”
“I’m just… here for a meeting,” I said vaguely, trying not to let my expression betray the anxiety bubbling inside me. “And you?”
He tilted his head. “Business. Something… family-related.”
Of course. The man had an empire to manage. Family legacies. Will requirements. Things that had nothing to do with me anymore.
I was tempted to ask him if he had gotten a new assistant.
“Well,” I murmured, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear, “It was nice seeing you again. Enjoy your meeting.”
I turned quickly, not waiting for a reply. I needed to leave since my so-called arranged groom wasn’t coming.
Maybe this is a good sign after all. Maybe he wasn’t interested either. That way, I didn’t have to go ahead with this bullshit.
My phone rang sharply, slicing through my thoughts.
I fumbled with it and answered on the third ring. “Hello?”
A deep male voice answered, one I didn’t recognize. “Hey, is this Miranda?”
“Yes, speaking,” I said hesitantly.
“This is Damon…son of Luca Alridge. I believe we’re supposed to meet today?”
My heart thumped wildly.
My spine straightened instantly. “Yes, we were. I’m actually just leaving. I thought you didn’t show up. I’ve been here for like an hour.”
“Oh. I’m inside now. Table 14. Can’t see you anywhere.”
My eyes widened, and I instinctively turned back toward the interior of the café. “You’re here? Inside?”
“Yes,” he said. “I still am. Where are you?”
“I’m—hold on.”
I started retracing my steps back into the café. The phone stayed glued to my ear as I walked through the hallway again. Just as I turned the corner, my eyes scanned the tables.
Jeremiah, my ex-boss, was still inside but with his phone glued to his ears. Looking around just like I was.
And then it clicked.
His eyes met mine, and realization slapped me hard across the face.
My mouth opened, and I stepped back in disbelief.
“What?” I exclaimed, probably louder than I intended.
Jeremiah lowered his phone slowly, his expression mirroring mine.
“You?” I whispered, my voice shaking.
Jeremiah was Damon? Wait. His father was my grandfather’s best friend? Oh my God!
How could I not have thought in that direction?
He blinked, then narrowed his eyes. “Wait… you’re Miranda?”
There was a beat of silence as we both stared at each other, neither of us sure who was supposed to speak next.
“You’re the… the guy?” I stammered, still trying to wrap my head around the impossibility of the situation. “You’re Damon Aldridge?”
He exhaled, dragging a hand through his thick dark hair. “And you’re the girl my father picked out in his will? No way…”
“This has to be a joke,” I muttered, half to myself, half to the universe. “This cannot be happening.”
We both stood there awkwardly. Me clutching my phone like a lifeline. Him rubbing the back of his neck like he was trying to massage the insanity away.
I turned to leave again. This was too much. Too ridiculous. Of all the people in New York, why did my arranged marriage have to be with the man I once called boss?
