Hitched & Hitched Again: A Comedy of Marital Mayhem novel Chapter 77

Chapter 77 

Had it not been for Booker’s birthday bash, their paths might never have crossed. The high. society circles weren’t exactly open for just anyone to stroll into. 

Booker was Tarquin’s go–to guy, his right–hand man, and Zane? Well, Zane tagged along with a mutual buddy of Booker’s. 

Zane knew he was punching above his weight class, but he was cool as a cucumber event when he realized Tarquin wasn’t drinking. With a grin that never wavered, he said, ‘Name’s Zane; I’m the current manager over at Newsom Group. Been looking forward to meeting. you, Mr. Bradford. Figured I’d take a shot and introduce myself today–here’s my card.” 

Zane, with a gulp of courage, fished out his business card and extended it towards Tarquin. 

Tarquin glanced at it but didn’t take it immediately. 

Zane’s cheeks flared red with embarrassment, scrambling mentally for a graceful exit. Suddenly, Tarquin reached out, taking the card. 

Zane blinked, a rush of elation tingling through him as he silently cheered. 

Tarquin inspected the card briefly before sliding it into his pocket. Then, he lifted his glass and clinked it on the table before taking a sip. 

Zane, feeling honored, quickly topped off his own glass and downed three drinks in quick succession! 

The rest of the guests, ever observant, had pretended to revolve around Booker, but their attention had never really left Zane’s interaction with Tarquin. Once they saw Tarquin accept Zane’s card and share a drink with him, they swarmed Zane, handing out their own. cards and clinking glasses, eager to buddy up. 

Total strangers moments ago, now thick as thieves. Such was the pull of Tarquin’s influence. Without uttering a word, he could alter someone’s fate. 

What the crowd didn’t know was that Tarquin’s favor towards Zane was all for Elysia’s 

sake. 

Meanwhile, Elysia had already returned to the private lounge. 

Despite her best efforts to mask her agitation, Elliot picked up on her discomfort. 

“Mommy, what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, sweetie, why do you ask?” Elysia responded, feigning nonchalance. 

Elliot furrowed his brows, observing her. “Your hair’s a mess, and your hand…why is it 

09:45 

hurt?” 

Only then did Elysia notice the cut on her hand–likely from the ceramic soap dispenser Gage had shattered earlier. 

She lied smoothly, “Ran into an old friend, got a little too excited, and accidentally knocked over the soap dispenser in the restroom. It was ceramic, and the shards cut my hand.” 

Emmett pushed forward; concern etched on his face. “Does it hurt, mommy?” 

“Not at all, sweetie. Mommy wouldn’t forget about it if it did.” 

“Let Emmett blow on it; it’ll heal faster,” he offered with childlike sincerity.