Chapter 69

Angela POV

"The Grand?" I asked as Christopher's Mercedes pulled up to the iconic hotel entrance. "Isn't this a bit excessive for a casual lunch?"

Christopher's amber eyes met mine briefly in the rearview mirror, a hint of amusement playing at his lips. "Since when has Angela Wilson ever settled for casual? Besides, I remember how much you used to love their afternoon tea."

I did love it, once. Back before Wilson Investment collapsed. Back when my family name still meant something in this city.

"Things change," I said softly.

"By the way," Christopher said, "how is Christina's injury?"

"You're asking the wrong person," I said coolly. "Maybe you should ask Sean. He's been at the hospital with her."

Christopher's lips curved into a knowing smile. "And here I thought you didn't care about Sean anymore. But your tone suggests otherwise."

We settled at a quiet corner table. I ordered a light salad and some clear soup, avoiding my usual favorites.

"No lobster roll today?" Christopher asked, watching me scan the menu. "You used to love their seafood."

"I'm trying to be more health-conscious these days."

Christopher's eyes narrowed slightly at my response, but he simply nodded and turned to the waiter. "A pot of cinnamon apple tea for the lady, please. And bring us the full afternoon tea service."

"You remember my tea preference?" I asked, surprised.

"I remember everything about you, Angel."

There was something in his tone-a careful observation that made me wonder just how much he'd noticed about my recent changes.

"You know," Christopher began as he poured the steaming liquid with practiced grace, "My company is hiring right now. Someone with your experience would be particularly valuable."

I took a careful sip of tea, using the moment to gather my thoughts. "Are you offering me a job, Christopher?"

"I'm offering you options." His voice was gentle, but his eyes were intent. "The world is bigger than Sean Shaw's shadow, Angela. You're too talented to play the role of trophy wife forever."

The tea suddenly tasted bitter in my mouth. "Is that what you think I am? A trophy wife?"

"I think," Christopher leaned forward slightly, "you're someone who deserves more than being defined by your marriage to Sean Shaw. The Angela I knew would never have settled for such a limited role."

"The Angela you knew didn't have to watch her family's legacy crumble," I replied sharply. "Sometimes we make choices we never thought we'd make."

A flash of regret crossed Christopher's face. "If I had been here when Wilson Investment collapsed-"

"Don't." I cut him off. "We both made our choices, Christopher. You chose London, I chose-"

I smiled slightly. "Can we not talk about this?"

Christopher nodded apologetically. "I just want you to be happier."

"I need to use the restroom," I said with a small nod.

As I walked towards the ladies' room, I noticed Rachel Miller's daughter in the hallway.

The last time I'd seen her was at that discreet clinic. It was her love for her unborn child that had moved me, that had made me change my mind about the abortion.

In a way, her determination had given me the courage to keep my own baby.

Now her face was tear-stained as she argued in hushed but heated tones with a man I recognized as a senior manager from Morgan Stanley.

I slowed my pace, not meaning to eavesdrop but unable to avoid hearing their conversation.

"You can't just pretend this isn't happening," she was saying, her voice trembling. "I'm pregnant, and you-"

"Lower your voice," the man hissed. "This isn't the place for this discussion."

"Then where is the place?" Her voice wavered between anger and desperation. "Your office, where your wife might stop by? Or maybe your house, where your children-"

"I said, be quiet!"

I felt a surge of sympathy for the girl as she continued in a whisper that carried the weight of steel. "You have until tomorrow to decide. Either you help me handle this, or your wife finds out everything."

She turned and walked away quickly, leaving the man standing there. I waited a moment before continuing to the restroom, not wanting him to notice me. When I returned to the table, Christopher was checking his phone.

"Everything alright?" he asked, glancing up. "You were gone a while."

"Just ran into someone I know," I said vaguely, noticing my tea had grown cold.

I hurriedly ate a little of my food, then said to Christopher, "It's getting late. I should head back to the office."

When I tried to get the check, I discovered he had already paid.

"I thought I was treating you to lunch?" I asked.

He smiled. "Next time then. You still owe me a lunch."

I couldn't shake the feeling that he had planned it all-the "chance" encounter downstairs, paying the bill before I could, deliberately creating an opportunity for another lunch.

But why? Could he possibly...?

I shook my head, dismissing the thought.

I was surely overthinking this. How could there ever be anything between Christopher and me?

He was just an old friend, albeit a somewhat annoying one.

Christopher insisted on driving me back to the office. As we walked out of the hotel, a familiar figure caught my eye-Rachel's daughter's boyfriend, that manager, with his arm around a sensual, mature woman.

The rage that bubbled up inside me was sudden and overwhelming. Perhaps it was my own situation that made me particularly sensitive, knowing I too would soon be facing life as a single mother. Without thinking, I strode over to them.

"How dare you!" I slapped him hard across the face, my palm stinging from the impact. "She's pregnant with your child, and here you are with another woman!"

The man stared at me with confusion and anger. "Who are you? I don't even know you!" he snapped. Then he raised his hand to strike me, but Christopher was there in an instant, catching his arm in a grip that made the other man wince.

"I suggest you reconsider that action very carefully," Christopher said, his voice carrying a dangerous edge I'd never heard before. The man struggled briefly before Christopher's grip tightened, forcing him to step back.

After the man and his companion hurried away, Christopher pulled out a silk handkerchief and meticulously wiped his hands.

"You know him?" Christopher asked casually, though his eyes remained sharp.

"He hurt someone I care about," I replied simply. Something in my tone must have told Christopher not to press further.

"I didn't realize you had such a strong aversion to touch," I commented, watching as he disposed of the handkerchief in a nearby bin.

Christopher's lips curved into a slight smile. "Not an aversion to touch in general," he said softly. "Just to touching anyone who isn't you."

The intimate tone of his voice made me uncomfortable, but before I could respond, my phone rang. It was Sean.

"Where are you?" he demanded. "The meeting's about to start and you're nowhere to be found."

"I was out for lunch," I said, keeping my voice steady. "I'm on my way back to the office now."

When Christopher's car finally pulled up to the office building, I saw Sean waiting at the entrance, his expression stormy.