Page 23
Chapter 23 of "Ruined By My Ex's Dad" opens presenting: We were halfway through breakfast when Cami nudged me. "Incoming," she whispered.I looked up to... Don’t stop now!
We were halfway through breakfast when Cami nudged me. "Incoming," she whispered.
I looked up to see Miles approaching our table, his trademark confident smile firmly in place.
Five months ago, that smile had made my heart race.
Now it just made me tired.
"Ladies," he greeted the table at large before focusing on me. "Savannah. You look well."
"Miles." I kept my voice neutral. "Enjoying the festivities?"
"Absolutely. John throws the best parties." He rested a hand on the back of my chair, slightly too close for comfort. "I didn't see you at the reception."
The implication was clear—he'd been looking.
I took a sip of water, giving myself time to respond. "I turned in early."
Zoe made a small choking sound that she disguised as a cough. I kicked her under the table.
"That's a shame," Miles said. "We could have caught up."
"I think we said everything that needed saying a long time ago." I smiled tightly.
"How's the Madison Street project going?"
His expression flickered—I'd hit a nerve.
The project had been struggling when we broke up, partly because Miles had alienated key investors with his arrogance.
"Moving forward," he said vaguely.
"Dad's stepped in to smooth some ruffled feathers."
Of course he had.
Lucas Turner had built an empire by being everything his son wasn't—diplomatic, strategic, patient.
Miles had always resented living in his father's shadow while simultaneously exploiting the Turner name whenever it suited him.
"Good to hear," I said, not really caring.
"If you'll excuse us, we were just discussing yesterday's ceremony."
"Actually," Miles said, ignoring the dismissal, "I was hoping we could talk privately. Just for a minute."
I felt my friends' eyes on me, waiting for my response.
Especially after last night, the idea of a private conversation with Miles held all the appeal of a root canal.
"I don't think we have anything to discuss," I said firmly.
"Five minutes, Sav. Please."
The nickname grated.
He'd never bothered to notice how much I disliked it when he said it.
"Fine. Five minutes." I stood, ignoring Zoe's concerned look. "I'll be right back," I assured her.