New beginning: Billionaire love story

Chapter 422 Talkative Alexander

Matthew let out a frustrated sigh, his finger hovering over the decline button on Claire's video call for what felt like the hundredth time. His phone buzzed insistently, but he refused to answer. Why? Because there was no way he could let Claire see the state of his face right now. The purple bruising around his left eye, the nasty gash near his temple, and the shallow cuts across his cheek were a disaster waiting to happen if she spotted them.

He could already hear her sharp questions: "What happened? Who did this? Why didn't you tell me?" Nope. He wasn't ready for that interrogation.

"Just heal already," he muttered, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He tilted his head, wincing as the movement tugged at the stitches he'd reluctantly gotten earlier that day. His hair-thankfully longer now-did an okay job covering the gash on his temple. But the black eye? Not so much.

He sighed again, running a hand through his messy hair. "Maybe if I wear sunglasses indoors," he joked to himself, though he knew Claire wouldn't buy it. His only saving grace was that she was still in Las Vegas. And if he was really lucky, Alexander-her insufferable admirer-would keep her busy there longer. For once, Matthew was rooting for the guy to be a persistent annoyance.

Meanwhile, back in Las Vegas, Claire was in no mood for games. She stared at her phone, annoyed. "Why does he keep declining my video calls but answers normal ones? Is he hiding something? Ugh, such a weirdo," she muttered, shaking her head. Matthew had always been a bit peculiar, but he was also the only one who truly got her, quirks and all. Still, his behavior was definitely odd lately. She shoved her phone into her bag, brushing off the nagging thought. She had bigger issues to deal with. For starters, Alexander.

Claire was getting ready for dinner, throwing on a simple yet elegant dress. Her stomach growled loudly, reminding her she hadn't eaten all day thanks to a mountain of work and Alexander's relentless attempts to coax her into dinner. She'd stood her ground, though, refusing him flat out. She could still picture the defeated look on his face as she walked away from him at the hotel entrance earlier. She smirked at the memory.

Arriving at the hotel restaurant, Claire let out a content sigh. It was bustling but not overly crowded. She chose a quiet corner table, took her seat, and glanced over the menu. Seafood pasta and a glass of white wine sounded perfect. As the waiter left with her order, she looked around the room.

Her gaze stopped at a nearby table where a family of four was celebrating a little girl's birthday. The sight warmed her heart and tugged at something deeper. She hadn't celebrated a proper birthday with her parents since she turned 21. Work had consumed her life since then. There were moments of regret, sure, but she couldn't deny the pride she felt for everything she'd accomplished. It was a bittersweet realization.

Her food arrived just as she was lost in thought, the aroma snapping her back to the present. Her stomach growled again, louder this time, and she grabbed her fork, ready to dig in.

"Eating alone? That's a surprise."

The familiar, smooth voice made her freeze mid-motion. Her jaw clenched as she forced a smile and looked up. "Alexander," she said flatly. "Why are you here?"

Alexander grinned, looking completely unbothered by her frosty tone. "Dinner, obviously. And since we're at the same hotel, why wouldn't I?"

She rolled her eyes, biting back a groan. "There are plenty of tables here. Go find one."

"Ah," he said, feigning disappointment. "But they're all full."

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Are they now?"

know you, it only makes

She scoffed. "No."

much?"

"I don't hate you. I just strongly dislike you. There's a

pulling out a chair

me?" she snapped, glaring at him. "Who

that's progress. Besides, you wouldn't cause a scene, would you? Imagine the headlines: 'Claire Peterson loses her cool in

the gossip columns something to chew on. Letting out a defeated sigh, she waved her hand dismissively. "Fine. Stay. But don't talk to me." "Sure," he said with a sly grin, signaling

muttering under her breath, "Why am I even

true to his word, ignored her demand for silence. He talked-about work, the city, even the weather-anything to get a reaction from

someone trying to tune out the world-or in this case Alexander. Sitting across

just a lot happening," Alexander said, his words

if I ignore him, he'll stop, she thought.

weather's been great, don't you think? Perfect for a

festivals. Have you been to one of those?" he asked, leaning forward slightly, as if he actually

sighed, finally lifting her gaze. "Is there a reason you're talking this much?" she asked, her voice

fueled him. "I'm just in a good mood. You know, with

arched a brow, twirling her fork in her pasta. "Exciting times," she repeated dryly. "Well, congratulations. Now, if you'll excuse me, I was hoping for a little peace and

type, are you? You're always so sharp, so quick with a

her

wine

her wine,

Why on earth are

you

now?"

right

in pleasant conversation.' Besides, I'm not just sitting with anyone. I'm sitting with you. That makes it special." Claire rolled her