Echoes of Unrequited Love (Xaviera and Hogan) novel Chapter 52

Chapter 52 

Wallis clammed up. 

I glanced at the clock and prodded, “The party’s about to kick off, let’s get a move on.” 

Wallis rolled her eyes at me. “Do I look like the type to ditch my friends for some eye candy?” 

On the way there, she’d filled me in on Honto Abbey’s strict criteria for hiring waitstaff, nearly as picky as a host club scouting for new talent. 

All I could do was pout, “Come on, make sure you post it in the group chat. I wanna live vicariously through you!” 

Wallis took the hint and didn’t push further. 

By 7 PM, the work group chat started buzzing with updates from the party. After skimming through, I set my phone aside. 

In the midst of half–sleep, I was roused by a knock at the door. 

It was a server from the estate bringing me food. 

A three–dish spread with a soup, including my favorite ketchup spaghetti. 

Surprised, I asked, “Who ordered this?” 

The server politely replied, “A Miss Irwin arranged it.” 

I looked down, staying silent. 

My phone on the table was buzzing non–stop. 

I checked it and saw over two hundred new messages in the work chat. I casually scrolled through and my eyes landed on a video. 

After enlarging it, I saw my colleagues egging on Cecilia to have a love shot with Hogan. 

In the video, Cecilia, shyly holding up her glass, looked at Hogan with,eyes full of emotion and asked, “Is it okay with you, Hogan?” 

Under the bizarre lighting, Hogan’s face was hidden in shadow, his emotions unreadable. 

But the next second, he took Cecilia’s glass and whispered something in her ear. 

The video was noisy, their words lost, but Cecilia’s bashful expression told me Hogan must have sweet–talked her. 

“Is there something wrong with the meal?” the server asked cautiously, snapping me out of my reverie. 

I glanced at the food and after a moment’s thought replied, “Could I get a bottle of red wine? The priciest one you’ve got.” 

1/2 

10-02 

With a little help from Romanée–Conti, I slept like a log that night. 

The next morning. I joined the gang at the estate’s organic farm for a picking activity. 

There was a wide variety of fruits and veggies, and the host was generous, allowing us to eat our fill and take two baskets each when we left. 

Wallis dragged me into the strawberry patch. 

I tried one; they were sweet and juicy, top–notch stuff. 

I planned to take a basket back for my uncle. 

Wallis leaned in, asking. “And the other one?”