Chapter 249
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Chapter 249:
He dialed Jocelyn immediately.
“Where are you?” he demanded.
“At the dress fitting,” she answered. She sounded calm. Unaware. “Why p>
“Fire him,” Gaston said. “The manager p>
“What? Why?” She sounded genuinely confused.
“He touched you,” Gaston said, his voice tight with a fury he knew was partly irrational. “I saw the photo. It’s already online p>
“You’re spying on me?” Jocelyn’s voice rose.
U𝗉𝘥𝘢𝘁𝖾𝗌 𝖾𝘷e𝗋у 𝗐𝗲𝖾k 𝗼ո
“The world is spying on you — I’m watching the news,” he snapped. “He’s playing an angle, Jocelyn. Fire him p>
“Gaston, stop,” she said, her own frustration rising to meet his. “He’s an employee in my hotel who helped me avoid a puddle in the rain. I’m not firing someone because you’re feeling insecure p>
She hung up.
Gaston stared at the phone for a long moment. Then he threw it across the room. It hit the wall and shattered.
He pressed the intercom.
“Xavier,” he said. “Dig up everything on Branden Cole. I want to know what he ate for breakfast in third grade p>
“On it,” Xavier replied without hesitation.
In the dressing room, Jocelyn sat on a velvet stool, still fuming. She looked at the diamond necklace in the mirror.
He’s too possessive, she thought. He treats me like property.
But beneath the frustration, a quieter voice suggested that Gaston tended to see things she missed — that his instincts were rarely wrong.
She picked up her phone and texted Branden.
Please maintain professional distance going forward. Mr. Collins is… old-fashioned.
Branden read the message in the staff break room.
Perfect, he thought. Friction created.
He reached into his locker and closed his hand around a small vial of clear liquid.
Tonight was going to be very interesting.
The gala was in full swing. The ballroom of the Wolfe Hotel had been transformed into a wonderland of crystal and white roses.
Jocelyn arrived alone. Gaston was late. They hadn’t spoken since the phone call.
She held her head high, the diamond necklace sparkling beneath the chandeliers. She worked the room, shaking hands, smiling, playing the part of the perfect hostess.
But inside, she was anxious.
Branden was there, directing the catering staff. He looked professional, seamlessly blending into the background.
He approached her with a silver tray.
“Champagne, Ms. Wolfe?” he offered. “You look like you could use this p>
Jocelyn hesitated. She was thirsty, her throat dry from the stress.
“Just one,” she said. “Thank you, Branden p>
She took a flute and brought it to her lips. It tasted slightly bitter.
Dry vintage, she thought. She drank half of it in two gulps.
Branden watched her without moving. He simply smiled.
Ten minutes later, the room tilted.
Jocelyn grabbed the edge of a table. A flush of heat rolled through her body, starting at her toes and rushing up to her face. Her legs felt heavy, as though they were made of lead. The murmur of the crowd became a dull, distant roar.
Did I drink on an empty stomach?
She stumbled slightly. The lights blurred into streaks of gold.