Alexander

I don't chase women.

It's not arrogance, it's fact. They usually do the chasing. Or at least the well rehearsed dance where we both know exactly how the night will end.

But Sophia Carter changed the rules.

By Tuesday, I had my assistant Jeremy pull some strings and find out who she was working with. Turns out her company, Luxe Moments, had just landed a contract planning a corporate event for one of our subsidiaries. A perfect opportunity, gift wrapped for me.

"You're not seriously thinking of attending that event-planning meeting, are you?" Jeremy asked as we walked down the glass hallway toward the elevator.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because you never attend event planning meetings. You don't even attend half the board meetings."

I smirked. "I suddenly feel invested in tablecloth colors."

Jeremy groaned. "This is about that woman from the gala, isn't it?"

I didn't answer.

The meeting was scheduled at Luxe Moments' office downtown a small, chic space with white walls, gold accents, and the faint smell of lavender. I walked in with my usual confidence, expecting at least a flicker of reaction when she saw me.

Sophia didn't even flinch.

"Mr. Knight," she said coolly, standing behind her desk. "This is unexpected."

"Please," I said, settling into the chair opposite her. "Call me Alex."

"I'd rather not."

The corners of my mouth twitched. "Fair enough. Shall we get started?"

She slid a folder across the desk, her expression businesslike. "We've prepared three concepts for your corporate retreat. Minimalist, modern luxury, or traditional formal. I recommend modern luxury, it fits your company's brand and your investors' expectations."

I barely glanced at the folder. "Which one do you like?"

Her brows shot up. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Which one would you choose?"

"This isn't about me, Mr. Knight. It's about your company."

"But I'm asking."

She hesitated, then muttered, "Minimalist."

"Then minimalist it is." I pushed the folder back.

Her eyes narrowed. "That's reckless decision making."

"I prefer to call it trusting your instincts."

I caught the flicker in her eyes, the tiniest crack in her armor. Amusement, maybe even surprise.

And just like that, I knew I was getting under her skin.

That night, I met my oldest friend, Marcus, for a drink. He was the opposite of me steady, married, two kids, never a scandal to his name.

"You're grinning like a lunatic," Marcus said, sipping his whiskey. "Who is she?"

I leaned back. "Sophia Carter. Event planner. Smart. Gorgeous. Immune to my charm."

Marcus laughed so hard he nearly spilled his drink. "Immune? That's a first."

"I'm serious. She doesn't give a damn who I am."

"Then maybe you should leave her alone. Sounds like she has her head on straight."

I shook my head. "That's exactly why I can't. I want her."

Marcus gave me a long look. "Careful, Alex. Wanting and needing aren't the same thing. And you don't do well when lines blur."

I waved him off, but his words stuck with me.

Because already, this didn't feel like my usual game.

By Thursday, I had a new excuse to see Sophia. I sent flowers to her office, not roses, not something cliché. White tulips, tied with a navy ribbon. Classic, understated, nothing that screamed "billionaire trying too hard."

The card simply read: For the woman who doesn't need to be impressed.

An hour later, I got an email.

" Mr. Knight, please refrain from sending personal gifts to my office. It's unprofessional". – Sophia Carter

I couldn't stop smiling.

Unprofessional. God, she was infuriating.

Friday night, Lila cornered me at our family dinner. "So," she said, pouring herself a glass of wine. "How's Sophia?"

Mom perked up immediately. "Sophia? Who's Sophia?"

"No one," I muttered.

"Ah ha!" Lila smirked. "I knew it. He's obsessed."

I glared at her. "Drop it."

Mom clasped her hands together. "Alexander, are you finally dating someone worth mentioning?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. This was exactly why I didn't bring women home. They were all temporary. Until now.

"She's... different," I admitted quietly.

That was all it took for Mom's eyes to light up.

"Oh, darling," she said, practically glowing. "I can't wait to meet her."

I didn't admit it aloud, but I couldn't wait either.

The problem was, I had no idea how to get Sophia Carter to let me in.

Because for the first time in my life, I wasn't chasing a conquest.

I was chasing something I didn't have a name for.

Chapter Four –

Sophia

I told myself the tulips annoyed me.

That's why I emailed him, curt and professional, telling him never to send personal gifts again.

But if I was being honest, dangerously honest I'd stared at them for a full five minutes before typing that email.

White tulips. My favorite. How the hell did he know that?

Maya walked into my office mid-stare, a latte in one hand and her phone in the other. She froze, then gasped so loudly I nearly dropped the vase.

"Oh my God. Did he send those?"

I sighed. "Yes."

She squealed, almost sloshing her coffee. "Sophia! They're gorgeous. And you love tulips."

"That's not the point."

"It's exactly the point." She set her phone down and leaned across my desk. "This is Alexander freaking Knight. He doesn't send flowers. He sends diamonds. The fact that he chose something this... subtle? Girl, he's smitten."

I rolled my eyes. "Or he's just playing another game."

Maya tilted her head. "And what if he's not?"

That question lingered long after she left.

Later that week, Ethan came over to my apartment with takeout. My big brother had always been protective, especially since Dad wasn't exactly a role model in the romance department.

"You look distracted," he said between bites of lo mein.

"I'm fine."

"Fine means not fine."

Ugh. First Mom, now Ethan. "It's nothing."

"Nothing with a name, maybe?"

I glared at him. He just smirked.

"Okay, spill," he said. "Who's the guy?"

I hesitated. Ethan wasn't the type to gossip, he'd probably go punch the man instead. Still, I trusted him. "It's... Alexander Knight."

His chopsticks froze halfway to his mouth. "The billionaire? The one who's always in the tabloids with a new woman every week?"

"That's the one."

"And you're talking to him?"

"Talking is generous," I muttered. "He's chasing. I'm resisting."

Ethan leaned back and whistled. "Wow. So, basically, you're the only woman in New York who told him no. No wonder he's obsessed."

I groaned. "You sound like Maya."

"Because Maya's right. Guys like that..." He shook his head. "They're dangerous, Soph. You let them in, you get burned."

"I know," I said softly.

And I did. That was the whole point.

But knowing it didn't stop the moments from creeping in.

Like when Alex showed up at the follow up meeting, genuinely paying attention to the color schemes and vendor lists. Billionaires don't care about color palettes, but there he was, nodding thoughtfully, asking real questions.

Or the time he lingered after a presentation, waiting until everyone else had left.

"You don't make it easy, you know," he said, leaning against the doorframe, arms folded.

"Maybe that's because it's not supposed to be easy," I replied.

He smiled, slow and disarming. "Good. I like a challenge."

I hated the way my stomach flipped.

The following weekend, Maya dragged me out for brunch. She claimed I needed "sunlight and pancakes" after a week of back to back clients. Halfway through my mimosa, she leaned across the table.

"So, are you really not going to give him a chance?"

"Maya"

"Listen," she said firmly. "I know your history. I know why you're cautious. But you can't paint every man with your dad's brush. What if Alex is different?"

I stabbed my pancakes. "He's not. He's rich, arrogant, used to getting what he wants."

"True," she said, sipping her drink. "But he keeps showing up. That has to mean something."

I didn't answer. Because she wasn't entirely wrong.

That night, as I curled up in bed, I replayed the moments again. The tulips. His questions in the meeting. The way he'd looked at me, not with that smug playboy grin, but with something else. Something quieter.

I told myself I wasn't falling. Not even close.

But deep down, a tiny voice whispered that the cracks were forming.

And if I wasn't careful, Alexander Knight might slip through.

Chapter Five

Alexander

The first time I noticed something was different, it was a Tuesday afternoon.

I was supposed to be reviewing a billion-dollar acquisition proposal, something that would normally have me energized, sharp, laser focused. Instead, I caught myself staring at the corner of my desk where her tulip email sat, printed out and tucked beneath a paperweight.

Unprofessional, she'd written. God, even her scolding was elegant.

Jeremy walked in mid-sigh, dropping a folder on my desk. "You've read this, right?"

I blinked. "Of course."

"Really? Because you're staring at flowers that aren't here."

I shot him a glare. He smirked.

By Friday, I was skipping my usual poker night with friends to review mood boards for the corporate retreat Sophia's team was planning. Mood boards. Me. The man who couldn't tell ivory from cream.

But when she spoke about it, her eyes lit up. She had this way of leaning forward, of gesturing with her hands like she was painting pictures in the air. And I found myself listening not pretending to, not nodding absently, but actually listening.

The more she talked, the less it felt like business.

And the more I realized I wanted to hear about her life outside of work.

One evening, I got my chance.

The meeting had run late, her staff had left, and it was just the two of us packing up files. She reached for her coat, but her phone rang. She glanced at the screen, hesitated, then answered.

"Hi, Mom... Yes, I'm eating... No, I'm not overworking... Ethan's fine, I saw him last week..."

Her tone softened as she listened, her lips curving into the faintest smile. Something warm tugged at my chest.

When she hung up, I said, "Your mom worries about you."

She froze, like she'd forgotten I was still there. "Everyone worries about me."

"Maybe because you're worth worrying about."

Her eyes snapped to mine. For a heartbeat, neither of us moved.

Then she slipped into her coat and said, "Goodnight, Mr. Knight."

But the flicker in her gaze haunted me the rest of the evening.

The second sign came at a family dinner.

Lila noticed before I did.

"You're quieter than usual," she said, loading her plate with roasted vegetables. "And don't tell me it's business. You live for those deals."

"I'm fine."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're smitten."

I scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Then why are you checking your phone every five minutes like a teenager?"

I hadn't even realized I was doing it.

Mom smiled knowingly. "Sophia again?"

I cursed under my breath.

The third sign hit me hardest.

I ran into Sophia at a café one Saturday morning. She wasn't in her usual work armor no heels, no sleek ponytail. Just jeans, sneakers, a messy bun, and glasses perched on her nose.

And she was laughing. Not the polite chuckle she gave in meetings. A real, unguarded laugh, the kind that bubbled up from her chest.

She was with a guy her brother, I realized quickly when he leaned down and said something protective in that big brother way. Still, something sharp twisted in my gut at the sight.

Jealousy.

Me. Jealous.

It was absurd. I'd never cared who the women I dated were with, never thought twice about competition. But watching Ethan sling an arm casually around her shoulders, I wanted to rip him off her until I reminded myself he was family.

She spotted me then. Our eyes met across the café.

"Mr. Knight," she said when I walked over.

"Sophia," I replied smoothly. "Out of the office, I see."

"This is my brother, Ethan."

He looked me up and down, his jaw tight. "So you're the guy chasing my sister."

I opened my mouth, but Sophia jumped in. "We work together."

Ethan didn't look convinced. "Right. Work."

For the first time in my life, I had no clever comeback. I just nodded, ordered my coffee, and left.

But the jealousy stayed with me long after.

By the time I admitted it, it was too late.

I wasn't chasing Sophia Carter to prove a point anymore.

I was chasing her because somewhere between the tulips, the late night meetings, and the sound of her laugh, she'd gotten under my skin.

And for the first time in my life, I wasn't sure I wanted her to leave