A Secretive Deal with My Billionaire Boss (by Gregory Ellington) novel Chapter 377

**Wram 377**

**Chapter 377**

**Alexander**

“Let’s be honest here, you’re absolutely going back,” Anthony said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “This is just too good. Alexander Knight, reduced to shadowing his former assistant in a quaint little town in Connecticut. I can’t get enough of this.”

“I’m not stalking her,” I shot back, irritation creeping into my voice.

“What would you label it then?” he challenged, leaning back in his chair with that infuriatingly casual demeanor of his.

“Persistent inquiry,” I replied, trying to sound dignified.

“Alex, that’s literally the textbook definition of stalking,” he chuckled, clearly enjoying this.

I shot him a glare, but his laughter only grew louder.

“Listen,” he said, his tone shifting to something softer, more earnest. “I know you better than anyone. You’re as stubborn as a mule, and when you set your sights on something, you don’t back down.”

“And your point is?” I asked, crossing my arms defensively.

“My point is, you need to figure out what it is that you actually want. Is it closure? An explanation? Or are you hoping to bring Madison back into your life?” His gaze locked onto mine, and I felt the weight of his words. “At least be honest with yourself.”

I found myself staring into my coffee cup, the dark liquid swirling as I absentmindedly turned the mug in my hands. “I don’t know,” I finally admitted, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.

“That’s the most genuine thing you’ve said all morning,” Anthony said, signaling for the check. “But let’s face the facts. Madison has clearly moved on. She’s built a life for herself in Connecticut, complete with a café she created from the ground up. She might even have someone new in her life. You can’t just stroll back in and expect everything to revert to how it once was.”

“I’m aware of that,” I said, my voice tinged with frustration.

“Are you really? Because you’re behaving like a man who believes he can fix everything with nothing but sheer determination and a designer suit.”

“The suit cost four thousand dollars,” I corrected him, my pride flaring up.

“And there’s the Alexander Knight I know and tolerate,” he said with a playful grin. “But my point remains. If you decide to go back—and trust me, I know you will—you need to brace yourself for the possibility that she might tell you to get lost again.”

“She didn’t exactly tell me to get lost,” I countered, trying to defend my position.

“She told you to go back to your wife. That’s even worse,” he shot back, and I had to concede that he had a valid point.

The waitress approached with the check, and I snatched it up before Anthony could reach for it. “This one’s on me,” I declared, wanting to assert my independence.

“You always say that,” he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“Because I earn significantly more than you do,” I stated, trying to sound casual.

“And you’re so modest about it too,” he teased, standing up and stretching. “So, when are you planning on heading back?”

“Who says I’m going back?” I shot back, feigning nonchalance.

“Alex. Come on,” he urged, his tone shifting to one of genuine concern.

I let out a long, resigned sigh. “Today, at two o’clock.”

“Today? You’re actually going back today?” Anthony’s eyes lit up with excitement. “This is even better than I anticipated! What happened to playing it cool? Giving her some space?”

“I told her I’d return,” I replied, standing up and leaving cash on the table. “I keep my promises.”

“Even when the woman in question explicitly told you not to come back?”

“Especially then,” I asserted, my resolve hardening.

Anthony shook his head, laughter bubbling up once more. “You’re certifiably insane. But I respect your commitment to making poor choices,” he said, giving my shoulder a friendly clap. “Just call me afterward. I want to know if she kicks you out or throws something at you.”

“Thanks for the boost of confidence,” I replied dryly.

“That’s what friends are for,” he said as he made his way toward the door, then paused, glancing back at me. “Hey, Alex?”

“What?” I asked, turning to face him.

“For what it’s worth, I genuinely hope she gives you a chance. You’ve been miserable for five years, even if you won’t admit it,” he said, his expression turning serious. “And maybe it’s time for you to be honest about why.”

Before I could respond, he was gone, the cheerful chime of the bell above the door ringing in his wake.

I stood there for a moment, his words reverberating in my mind. Miserable for five years. Was that really true? Had I been that unhappy?

I began to reflect on my life. The penthouse that felt like a hollow shell. The engagement that had stagnated, never moving forward. The work that consumed my days but left me feeling unfulfilled. I still occasionally found myself searching for Madison in meetings, half-expecting her to walk in with coffee and that knowing smile of hers.

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath.

Maybe Anthony was right. Maybe I had been miserable. Perhaps I had simply become so adept at pretending everything was fine that I had convinced myself it was reality.

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