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.

Alexander

Sophia Carter had no idea what she was doing to me.

Every woman I'd known before her wore her beauty like a weapon, short skirts, plunging necklines, sultry eyes that begged to be noticed. And I noticed, every damn time. It was easy. Predictable.

Sophia was nothing like that.

She didn't flaunt. She didn't try. And somehow, that made her impossible to ignore.

The way her blouse skimmed her waist but never clung. The way her pencil skirts hugged just enough to hint at curves I couldn't stop imagining. The delicate arch of her neck when she tilted her head to read a document.

Hell, even the way her glasses slid down her nose when she was tired made me want to lean over and push them back into place.

I was losing my mind.

The first time it hit me hard was during a boardroom presentation.

She was standing at the front, pointer in hand, talking about logistics for the upcoming retreat. Her voice was calm, confident, that cool professional tone she always carried.

But all I could see was the curve of her hips when she shifted her weight. The subtle line of her calf as her heel lifted. The way her blouse pulled when she reached for the screen.

My board members were watching the slides. I was watching her.

When her eyes flicked to mine, I had the sudden, absurd thought that she knew. That she was aware of the effect she had on me, and she was letting me burn.

Later that afternoon, I found myself in her office under the guise of "clarifying retreat details." Truth was, I just wanted to be near her.

She was bent over her desk, hair slipping loose around her face, scribbling notes. The neckline of her blouse dipped just enough to reveal the slope of her collarbone, and for a moment, I forgot why I'd come.

"Mr. Knight," she said without looking up. "Shouldn't you be in your office?"

"I like it better here."

She glanced up then, one brow arched, lips twitching as though she was trying not to smile. "You're impossible."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

I leaned against the edge of her desk, close enough to smell her perfume, something soft, floral, maddeningly subtle. My hand brushed the stack of papers beside hers, and for a second, our fingers were dangerously close.

She pulled back, but not before I saw the flicker in her eyes.

She felt it too.

The more time I spent with her, the worse it got.

At family dinners, I caught myself comparing every laugh, every smile to hers. At work, I skipped calls and delayed meetings just to stay in the same room.

And then came the day that nearly broke me.

We were leaving the office late. It had been raining, and she was juggling her umbrella, her bag, and a stack of files.

"Here," I said, taking the files from her.

"I can manage."

"I know," I said softly. "But I want to help."

Her eyes met mine, and something unspoken passed between us.

By the time we reached her car, I was soaked, but I didn't care.

"Goodnight, Mr. Knight," she murmured.

I wanted to say her name. I wanted to close the space between us and find out if her lips tasted as soft as they looked.

Instead, I shoved my hands in my pockets and stepped back.

"Goodnight, Sophia."

But as I watched her drive away, I realized something terrifying.

This wasn't a game anymore.

I didn't just want Sophia Carter to notice me.

I wanted her. All of her.

And for the first time in my life, I wasn't sure if wanting would be enough.