Page 12 of The Alpha's Crimson Vow

Frank lifts his glass in a mock toast, the room catching faint echoes of their laughter. Then he stands, straightening his tuxedo with an exaggerated flourish, and launches into a playful mockery of a speech.

The fire inside me roars. It’s fury and humiliation, all mixed together in a boiling cauldron of rage that’s ready to spill over.

I don’t know what my next move will be, but one thing is for sure: if they think I’m just going to roll over and let them do this to me, they’re in for a rude awakening.

Then, like a shift in the wind, the atmosphere in the room changes. It’s subtle at first. But then it grows, the energy turning electric, and murmurs ripple through the crowd like a current.

My gaze darts toward the source of the disturbance—the entrance to the ballroom.

A figure strides in. He’s tall, towering over the others near the door, and broad in a way that commands attention. His shoulders move with a natural rhythm, each step purposeful. Even from across the room, I can see the way his tuxedo fits him perfectly, the tailored fabric hugging every line and edge of his powerful frame.

The murmurs grow louder as heads turn, people sneaking glances or openly staring. Women exchange glances, whispering to one another with smiles tugging at their lips. Some even chuckle softly, their eyes tracking him as he moves deeper into the room.

But he doesn’t seem to notice—or if he does, he doesn’t care. There’s an intensity to his stride, an unyielding purpose that sets him apart.

My eyes narrow, a spark of disbelief flickering in my chest as the figure comes closer.

My breath catches.

Is that... Alex?

His eyes move around, scanning the ballroom as though he’s trying to locate something—or someone.

I blink, hardly believing what I’m seeing. “Alex?” The name escapes my lips, hesitant, as if I’m trying to be sure it’s actually him.

At the sound of my voice, his head turns sharply in my direction. For a moment, his face is unreadable as he looks me over as if surprised by seeing me dressed up. Then, his features soften and he comes over..

“Ms. Lockhart,” he greets, his voice warm and familiar. “This is impulsive, I know, but I thought I would take responsibility for convincing you to come alone, by making myself available to be your date tonight. In case you ended up really needing one.”

I don’t even think—my feet move before my mind catches up, and suddenly, my arms are around him, pulling him into a hug. Relief floods my chest, overwhelming in its intensity. It’s incredible, the way he’s always so thoughtful, so protective.

A long-buried memory stirs in my head, so random and yet so warm—a childhood wish for a puppy, something small and precious, something I would have given anything to protect and be protected by. And somehow, in this moment, he pulls that memory from the depths of me.

The hug lingers just long enough to convey my gratitude, but not so long that it feels unprofessional.When I step back, his eyes are fixed on me with that unreadable expression he has so often.

“Alex,” I breathe, trying to steady myself. “You’re a lifesaver.”

He gives me a curt nod. “Happy to help, Ms. Lockhart,” he says, his tone so polite it makes me want to laugh.

For a moment, I just stand there, taking him in. It’s really him, here, looking absolutely… incredible. His hair is styled perfectly—sleek, with just a hint of disarray that makes it feel effortless. His sharp jawline is accentuated by the soft lighting, and his tuxedo? Well, it’s like it was tailor-made to highlight his broad shoulders and trim waist. It hugs him in all the right ways, and I can’t help but feel my breath catch in my throat.

I realize too late that I’m staring, completely transfixed, until his voice breaks through my daze. “Ms. Lockhart? Are you okay?” His tone is laced with genuine concern, and that just makes it worse.

“Yes,” I say quickly, feeling heat rush to my face. “I’m fine. Really.” I smile, mostly to reassure myself, before slipping my arm through his. “Come with me.”

I lead him to a table near the stage, and we settle in just as the room starts to hum with anticipation. The event is about to begin. The master of ceremonies steps onto the stage, microphone in hand, his voice smooth and professional as he addresses the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the annual Pinnacle Group Gala.” His tone is warm, practiced, and vaguely reminiscent of a late-night talk show host. “As always, we’ll be kicking things off with the opening remarks.” He glances at his notes and pauses. “I’ve been informed that the remarks will be given by the company’s CFO tonight, rather than the CEO.”

Oh, no. Absolutely not.

“Alex,” I say, my voice low but firm, “come with me.”

He doesn’t hesitate, rising with me in one smooth motion. I loop my arm through his again, and together we make our way to the stage. The room seems to hold its breath as we climb the steps, all eyes turning to follow our every move.

The MC’s eyes widen slightly, but he recovers quickly, his voice booming through the microphone. “It seems we’ll be hearingfrom the CEO herself after all!” There’s a ripple of polite applause and murmurs of approval from the crowd. “Please welcome Ms. Katherine Lockhart, CEO of Pinnacle Group.”

Alex steadies me as I step up to the podium, his hand a reassuring weight on my arm. My gaze sweeps across the room, and my eyes land on Frank. He’s frozen mid-stride, halfway through the hall with that ex-wife of his on his arm. His green eyes burn with anger, his jaw tight with embarrassment. It takes everything in me not to smirk.

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