The Rich Boy. Leah Vale

they loved her in their way.

      Alex must be ripped to shreds by doubt.

      Her eyes filled with tears again and every particle in her ached for him with an intensity that scared her.

      She’d spent several sleepless nights attempting to banish once and for all her feelings for Alex. She’d thought she had succeeded. Obviously, to some degree, she’d been wrong.

      Focus on the story.

      And currently, the story was walking out the door. While not quite as bad, his vow to leave town ranked right up there with hearing another girl’s name announced as the winner by Miss Central’s master of ceremonies. Alex couldn’t take off. Not yet.

      She set her jaw and hustled after him. He’d have to do more than stomp away to shake Madeline Monroe.

      Once past the empty outer office area of his executive secretary, Madeline skirted the support staff’s cubicles, which filled the wide-open center of McCoy Enterprises’ top floor. She barreled past the break room, which smelled suspiciously of warm Krispy Kreme donuts as well as fresh coffee. No wonder people loved working at McCoy’s.

      Before she reached the elevators, she came upon a door leading to the stairs, and hesitated. Odds were good Alex had taken the stairs.

      Even though they were fourteen floors up, she doubted he’d want to risk having to talk to anyone on the trip down. For a moment she considered trying to chase him. But with his head start and fuming mood propelling him to the ground floor, coupled with the speed-slowing height of her heels, she opted for the elevator.

      No longer caring if anyone noticed her as she had on her way to Alex’s office, Madeline ran for the bank of elevators. She screeched to a stop in front of the polished metal doors and hit every down button several times with the palm of her hand.

      Luck was with her and the elevator on her left opened immediately with a ding. She rushed inside and pushed the close button with one hand and the lobby button with the other.

      “Come on, come on,” she muttered while bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet as she was carried downward.

      When the elevator stopped at one of the middle floors, she groaned, “Nooo.”

      The doors swooshed smoothly open and a short, sandy-haired man in shirtsleeves and a brown tie, a file folder in his hand, stepped in. Madeline tried for an innocuous expression and dropped her gaze to the toes of her white mules.