Page 25 of Suddenly Desired (APEX Billionaires’ Club #2)

ELLIE

Ellie stood across the street from Heartbook’s headquarters, her fingers gripping the strap of her bag as if it were a lifeline.

She’d expected chaos, but this was on another level.

A wall of reporters clustered around the building’s main entrance, cameras flashing like angry fireflies.

Security guards were frantically trying to hold them back, and above the din, Ellie could hear shouted questions about Blake.

There were plenty of spectators there too.

The atmosphere felt intimidating, almost hostile.

Her stomach clenched. The whole scene felt volatile, like a powder keg on the verge of detonation.

But she didn’t have time for hesitation.

Blake was in there, alone, and she had information that could change everything.

The realisation of who she’d seen had sent a surge of determination through her veins. She had to get to him.

But how?

Ellie’s gaze darted to the front doors, where the press had gathered like piranhas in a feeding frenzy.

The rest of the building was impenetrable, a fortress of steel and glass, so she was going to have to go through the front doors if she was getting inside.

Then it struck her — maybe she could use the infamy of the last few hours to help her get to Blake.

If the press loved anything, it was a good story, regardless of the truth of it.

“Excuse me!” She pushed her way between a man with his phone held in the air, trying to get video of the doors, and a woman using hers as a Dictaphone. “I need to get through. Blake’s expecting me.”

As she’d predicted, the noise around her rose to deafening levels as the reporters got wind of what she was saying. Soon the cries of recognition filled the air.

“It’s the girl from the video,” one shouted.

“She’s not his new girlfriend, surely,” called another, as though Ellie wasn’t standing right next to him.

“Well, she’s an idiot if she is,” cried a third. “Hope he treats her better than he does the women in his family.”

Ellie wondered if this was how Blake felt all the time. As though he was fair game for people to talk about as they wished. She didn’t like it. And she didn’t like the idea of Blake having to deal with it, either. The reporters crowded her, shoving their phones and mics into her face.

“Hey, you. Does Blake make you do all his washing?”

“Does he chain you to the kitchen sink?”

“Are you his sex slave?”

Sex slave? Seriously? The idea burrowed a little too deep in Ellie’s mind and she felt her cheeks heat. Might not be such a bad thing. Right?

She shoved her chin down and pushed her way through the throng.

No comment was on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t know if that was something real people said, not just TV people, so she stayed quiet.

Reaching the doors to the lobby, Ellie looked up at one of the burly doormen that hadn’t been here when she’d arrived for her interview, and gave him a pleading smile.

“Blake’s expecting me,” she said, sternly.

The doorman raised a brow at her and shrugged his shoulders, which was surprising, given how muscular they were.

Ellie half expected them to push up his cheeks at the same time.

His equally muscular mate smacked him on the chest with sausage-shaped fingers and laughed.

“It’s Blake’s new girl,” he shouted over the chaos.

“I recognise her from the press. Let her in.”

“Welcome to the fun house.” The doorman waved Ellie inside. “They’re in the boardroom.”

The crowds were thinner in the lobby, most of the press being unable to get past the bouncers.

The ones who had been allowed in were better behaved, although the receptionist still looked like she was being harassed from every angle possible.

Her neatly piled hair had drooped to straggles around her face.

Ellie approached the desk, her heart pounding, but her voice steady. “Hi, I’m here to see Blake Fielding.”

The receptionist glanced up briefly from her computer, and carried on typing and talking to someone on the phone at the same time. “He’s in a meeting. Do you have an appointment?”

Ellie hesitated, not sure if that was directed at her or the person on the other end of the phone conversation. “He’s expecting me.”

The lie slipped off her tongue a little easier this time.

The receptionist just rolled her eyes and went back to shouting “No comment” down her headset.

“Oh,” Ellie said, her surprise that it was actually a thing overshadowing the rudeness of the receptionist. “Don’t worry, I’ll make my own way up.”

Ellie’s trainers padded softly on the tiled floor as she walked, her eyes scanning for any indication as to where she might find the boardroom. A few steps later, she spotted a glass-mounted map of the building posted on the wall.

“Perfect,” she muttered, stepping closer. Her finger traced the layout of the floors, her pulse quickening when she spotted the boardroom was on the tenth floor. That had to be where the meeting was happening. She’d just have to figure out how to get there without running into too much trouble.

She followed the corridor until she reached a stairwell. The lift was too risky — someone might stop her if she was stuck in a confined space and had to talk to them for long. Taking a deep breath, Ellie started climbing.

At about floor five, the doubt started to creep in. What exactly was her plan? Was she just going to burst into the board meeting and start shouting? Demand they listen to her? Tell them what she knew?

What if Blake didn’t want her there?

She gritted her teeth, gripping the cool metal railing as she pushed forward. She had spent too long second-guessing herself, waiting for the right moment, playing it safe . Not this time.

Blake had helped her when she needed it most. Now, she was going to help him.

She picked up her pace.

By the time Ellie reached the tenth floor, her legs were burning, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps.

She pressed her back against the wall, willing herself to calm down.

The corridor was quieter here, the thick carpet swallowing every sound, but tension crackled in the air like static before a storm.

She edged forward, her eyes locking on to the glass-walled conference room at the end of the hall. The blinds were partially drawn, offering glimpses of movement inside — shifting silhouettes, sharp gestures. She crept closer, pulse hammering, straining to hear.

A man’s voice, clipped and precise. Blake’s deeper tone, steady but tight.

She couldn’t make out the words, but the slow, suffocating energy in the room was unmistakable.

A sudden laugh echoed from further down the corridor, making Ellie jolt. She turned to see a group of employees chatting as they headed towards the lifts, oblivious to her presence. Pressing herself against the wall, she held her breath until they passed.

When the corridor was empty again, she inched closer to the conference room.

Through a small gap in the blinds, she caught sight of Blake.

He was standing at the head of the table, his hands planted firmly on the polished wood.

His expression was intense, his jaw tight as he spoke.

Ellie felt a rush of admiration. Even in the midst of this storm, he looked completely in control.

Then her gaze flicked to the woman standing opposite him.

Ellie stiffened.

The woman had the kind of carefully curated appearance that screamed wealth — glossy hair, tailored clothes, a smile sharp enough to cut glass. Even without being able to hear her, Ellie knew exactly who she was.

Michelle.

The woman who had betrayed Blake. And the man who had helped her was right there too.

Ellie’s blood boiled as she watched Michelle lift a hand in a dismissive wave, as if swatting away an inconvenience.

David was seated beside her. He wasn’t as obviously smug as Michelle, but there was still something cold about him.

His movements were precise, controlled. His fingers tapped against the table once, twice, then he spoke.

Blake flinched.

Whatever David was saying, it wasn’t good, and Ellie could see the way his jaw was grinding even from out in the corridor. His words seemed to hit Blake like a physical blow.

Ellie’s stomach twisted as she watched Blake stagger slightly, his grip tightening on the chair. Then, as if the weight of the room had finally crushed him, he sank heavily into the seat, his head dropping into his hands.

Michelle’s lips curled into a knowing smirk and David leaned in just slightly, the two of them together a condescending pile of crap that she had recognised the moment she’d seen them on the TV.

Because she’d been on the end of their derision before, when they’d swanned into the Bookworm Café and made ridiculous demands.

Blake had said David hated Michelle, but David was lying.

Because David and Michelle weren’t just colleagues.

They weren’t even enemies pretending to tolerate each other.

They were a couple. And Blake had no idea.

Steeling herself, Ellie stepped forward and went to open the door. She barely had time to grip the handle before the sound of a throat clearing behind her made her freeze.

“Excuse me,” said a security guard, less built than the one she’d sneaked past at the front door, but ten times more intimidating. “This area is restricted. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Ellie turned, her cheeks heating. “I need to get in there, I’m—”

“I know who you are.” The guard’s gaze was impassive, but his words hit like a punch to the gut. “You’re Blake Fielding’s . . . friend.”

Before she could respond, two more guards appeared, flanking her ominously.

“Blake Fielding no longer has clearance to be in this building,” the first guard continued. “And neither do his guests.”

“This is really important. Please, I have to—”

The guard raised a hand to stop her. “Miss, please don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Her heart plummeted as they escorted her, not gently, towards the lifts. She tried to look back, hoping for one last glimpse of Blake, but the guards were careful to keep her moving forward.

“He’ll be leaving the building soon, too,” he said, his voice softening. “There’s a press conference arranged for three p.m. You can meet him once he’s spoken to the crowds.”

But that would be too late. The damage would already be done.