Reject My Alpha President (Iris and Arthur) novel Chapter 84

“Mr. Brooks will see you now.”

The sound of the receptionist’s voice snaps me out of my deep thoughts. I look up to see her standing beside an open door, a smile plastered across her face. Standing, I quickly smooth down the front of my shirt before I hurry through the doorway.

In the conference room, a man wearing an expensive navy blue suit is waiting for me. He’s incredibly handsome in the cookie–cutter sort of way, like a male lead from an old black and white movie. His smile is all teeth as he stands and extends his hand to me.

“Miss Iris,” he says, and his hand is warm and smooth as I shake it. “My name is Albert Brooks, but you can just call me Albert. Please, take a seat. Let’s talk.”

I sit in a chair opposite him in the sleek conference room. The table is long and polished, the sunlight bouncing off the warm chestnut wood. The chairs are just ever so slightly plush, and there’s a vase of lilies in the center of the table. It’s clear that the entire office is specifically designed to set people at ease, and it’s working on me.

“Now,” Albert says, settling across from me. He leans back in his chair, crossing his long legs. “What brings you to my office today?”

I clear my throat and explain the situation to him, hoping that he’ll be able to help me more than the last guy did. Over the next few minutes, Albert’s face darkens, his brow furrowing as he nods along. He doesn’t interrupt me once, and when I’m finished, he’s silent for a few moments as if considering.

Finally, he rises from his chair, buttoning his suit jacket.

“Let me speak to my partner,” he says, offering me another one of those award–winning smiles. “In the meantime, my secretary is going to come and take your consultation f*e. It’s all routine.”

I nod, having expected this. It’s why I worked so hard to sell all those paintings, after all. And given my calculations, I think I should just be able to afford the consultation f*e.

Mr. Brooks leaves, and a moment later, the receptionist enters with a tablet in her hands. She takes my card and swipes it, making casual conversation as I pay the f*e. After signing a few forms, with everything looking up to code, she offers me a cup of tea and leaves.

Oddly, though, I’m left sitting in the conference room for some time. I send Cliff a text as I sip my herbal tea, and he assures me that I needn’t worry about Miles–he even sends me a picture of Miles happily playing with his kitten in bed, which makes me smile.

“He named the little thing ‘Scout‘,” Cliff’s text says. “But I think he should have named him ‘Runaway‘!”

I can’t help but laugh at that; leave it to Cliff to make light of a harrowing situation. Just as I’m shutting off my phone, the door opens again, and Mr. Brooks and another man I don’t recognize–an older one with silver hair and a thin mustache and an equally–expensive suit–enter the room.

“Miss Iris,” Mr. Brooks says, gesturing to the other man, “this is my partner, Mr. Lee. We’ve just discussed your case?”