Page 15 of The Alpha's Crimson Vow

He turns in his seat, his eyes flicking away briefly before returning to mine. “Yes,” he says carefully, his tone clipped. “That’s precisely why I’m here, Katherine.” His gaze sharpens. “The man you were with at the gala. Who is he?”

I raise an eyebrow at the directness of the question, but I don’t flinch. “You mean my boyfriend?”

His expression tightens, surprise clear across his face. “Your boyfriend?” he repeats the word. “To the best of my knowledge—and that of the elders—you haven’t been courting anyone.”

I lean back slightly, drawing out my words as I reply. “Well, perhaps the wise elders don’t know as much as they like to think they do.” My tone is light, almost dismissive, as I cast my eyes back at my computer screen, as though this conversation is barely worth my time.

The silence stretches. I can feel his eyes on me, heavy and calculating, the gears in his mind turning at full speed.

“Where is that man from?” he asks, his voice stiff and probing.

I don’t respond, my focus pointedly fixed on the glowing monitor in front of me.

“What family is he from?” he presses again, his tone taking on a sharper edge.

Still, I don’t give him the satisfaction of a reply. My silence speaks volumes, and I can practically hear the frustration building in his breath.

Finally, he sighs, exasperation seeping into his words. “Katherine, we need to know who this man is. Where he’s from. The man you’re apparently courting—”

I cut him off with the sharp clack of my finger hitting the space bar. Spinning my chair to face him, I meet his gaze head-on, my voice low but firm. “What you need to do, dear Uncle, is mind your own business.”

His eyes narrow, his frustration flaring. “This is our business,” he retorts, his voice rising. “It’s our business to know who you’re with. It’s our business to ensure Pinnacle Group will be in good hands. We need to know—We need to ensure that you are with someone who can manage the company.”

I scoff, the sound sharp and bitter as it escapes my lips. “The person managing this company is me, Uncle Lawrence,” I say firmly, my tone leaving no room for argument. “The person who will continue to manage it is me. Not the man I marry. Not anyone else. Me.” I let the words hang in the air, heavy and unyielding, before continuing. “So I suggest you—and the rest of the elders—stop poking around in my private life. You didn’t like me being single? Fine. I’m not single. That’s all you need to know.”

I turn back to my computer, dismissing him as effectively as if I’d waved him out of the room.

The silence that follows is thick, but I don’t look up. I don’t have to. I know exactly what his expression looks like—the tight jaw, the narrowed eyes, the controlled frustration.

After a moment, I hear the soft scrape of his chair as he stands. His steps are slow as he moves toward the door. He pauses briefly, as if considering saying something else, but then he thinks better of it.

The door clicks shut behind him, and the room sinks back into silence.

I exhale slowly, but my relief is laced with a sharp undercurrent of defiance. The elders don’t have anything on me now. Not a single card to play. I’ve worked too hard to prove myself—too competent, too driven to let their criticisms stick. And now, with Alex as my contract boyfriend, they can’t wield the “single” argument against me anymore.

We just have to keep up the act.

*****

The days and weeks have been unusually quiet, but I can’t complain. It’s as though Alex showing up at the gala and my heated exchange with Uncle Lawrence slammed the brakes on all the usual family meddling. The elders have finally backed off, their noses no longer poking into my private life. No emergency board meetings, no whispered interrogations disguised as polite conversation, and even the necessary board meetings have been uneventful. Frank, of all people, has been remarkably quiet too, keeping his usual snide remarks to himself.

I feel… lighter. Like a weight I didn’t realize I’d been carrying has been lifted. I’m walking down the grocery store aisle now, pushing a half-full cart in front of me, and there’s an ease in my stride that hasn’t been there in a long time.

My cart rattles slightly as I maneuver it toward the checkout counter, the wheels squeaking faintly against the linoleum. The rhythmic beep of the scanner pulls me from my thoughts as the clerk starts ringing up my items.

As I hand over my card, ready to pay, a sudden, loud crash from behind me makes me whip around. The sharp noise reverberates through the store, drawing curious glances from the other shoppers. Behind me, a young woman is crouched down,scrambling to pick up a pack of soda cans that have tumbled to the floor. They’re rolling in every direction.

Without hesitation, I step toward her, crouching down to help corral the escaping cans. “Let me give you a hand,” I say, gathering a few of them in my arms.

“Thanks,” the woman replies softly, her voice almost lost in the noise around us. But there’s something about that voice—a spark of familiarity that makes me pause.

I glance up, trying to get a better look at her face. She’s wearing a baseball cap pulled low over her forehead, and the hood of her sweatshirt is draped loosely around her face. But even with most of her features hidden, I know.

“Annie?”

She looks up, her wide eyes meeting mine. “Hi, Ms. Lockhart,” she says, her tone polite but hesitant, like she’s unsure how I’ll react to seeing her here.

I smile faintly, standing up and placing the cans on the counter. “I didn’t know you shop here.” My voice is calm, casual, even though my mind is already wondering what one of Pinnacle’s bright-eyed interns is doing at the same grocery store as me.

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