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

Chapter Six –

Sophia

Alexander Knight was dangerous.

Not the kind of danger you ran from in a dark alley, but the kind you didn't see until you were already in too deep.

Every time I walked into a room with him, I felt his eyes on me. Not in the way most men looked, sizing me up like a prize, but with this... unsettling awareness. As though he noticed things I never wanted anyone to notice.

The curve of my waist when I reached for a folder. The way my hair slipped loose from its bun after a long day. The tiny scar on my wrist from when I'd tripped as a child.

He didn't comment, not directly. But his gaze lingered long enough that I knew he saw.

And I hated how part of me wanted him to keep looking.

At work, he behaved as though nothing was different. He was professional, sharp, every inch the billionaire CEO who demanded results. But between the cracks, I caught glimpses of something else.

Like when he held the door open a second longer than necessary, just enough for our arms to brush.

Or when he laughed at one of my sarcastic remarks, not the polite chuckle of a boss appeasing his employee, but a deep, unrestrained laugh that made my stomach flip.

He was supposed to be a womanizer. I reminded myself of that constantly. He was supposed to be a man who collected hearts the way others collected cufflinks.

And yet, he kept surprising me.

One evening, we were in the conference room late, reviewing presentations. My phone buzzed.

Ethan: Don't forget, Mom's expecting you this weekend.

I sighed. Alexander glanced up. "Everything okay?"

"Family dinner," I muttered. "My mom insists on them. Every Sunday."

He tilted his head. "That sounds... nice."

I gave him a skeptical look. "Nice? You strike me as the type who'd rather be anywhere but a family dinner."

His lips quirked. "Maybe. But I wouldn't mind watching you at one."

The words were light, but something in his tone wasn't. I looked back at my papers, heart pounding.

The problem wasn't that Alexander Knight was persistent. It was that he was patient.

Most men gave up the minute they realized I wasn't falling for their charm. But Alex... he didn't push. He didn't demand. He just showed up. At meetings, at events, at moments I didn't expect him to.

And somehow, he was getting closer without me realizing.

The first time I really felt it was at lunch with my best friend, Maya.

"So," she said, sipping her iced tea. "You and Mr. Knight. What's going on there?"

"Nothing," I said too quickly.

Maya raised her brows. "Right. Nothing. That explains why you just went pink in the face."

I glared. "He's my boss. That's all."

She leaned back. "Mhm. Bosses don't usually make you smile when you say their name."

I froze. "I didn't!"

"You did," she said smugly. "Soph, if you like him, it's okay. Just... don't get burned."

Her warning echoed in my head long after lunch ended.

Because she was right. I was starting to like him.

And that terrified me.

That night, I couldn't sleep.

Every time I closed my eyes, I remembered the way Alexander's gaze darkened when I laughed, or how his hand had brushed mine when he'd passed me a file.

It wasn't supposed to matter. He wasn't supposed to matter.

But against my better judgment, the fire was already smoldering.

And I was starting to wonder how much longer I could keep it contained.