Page 54 of The Alpha's Crimson Vow

Frank stays put.

He stands there for a long, pathetic moment, his expression a mixture of disbelief and quiet defeat. And then, finally, he walks out too, shoulders slumped, looking smaller than he did when he walked in.

And then—silence.

The boardroom is empty now, except for me.

And Alex.

I sit at the head of the table. He remains at the other end, his guards flanking him, but otherwise, the room feels cavernous, like there’s too much space between us and not enough at the same time.

I don’t know why I don’t move.

A storm of emotions churns in my chest, emotions I don’t want to name. Because the truth is—today was supposed to be a disaster.

We should have declared bankruptcy.I should have been voted out. Frank should have taken over.

But none of that happened. Because of Alex.

And yet—what? Am I supposed to thank him for this? Am I supposed to run over, throw my arms around him, forget everything he did to me because he swooped in at the last second with his money and his bod guards and saved the day?

Anger simmers beneath my ribs, mixing with something heavier.

Because I remember.

I remember how I felt that day—how I let myself feel, how I was already crumbling only for him to shatter me completely. I remember how stupid it was to be vulnerable with him.

And I will never make that mistake again.

A long beat passes. And then I rise, gathering my files with steady hands and making my way to the door.

Halfway there, I hear the twist of fabric, the scrape of a chair against the floor.

Alex stands. I don’t stop.

As I pass him, he moves closer, lowering his voice. “Katherine, please. Let me explain—”

“No.”

The word is quiet but firm. I don’t look at him. I don’t give him the satisfaction.

I just keep walking, past him, past his guards, past the door.

Alex Valkov may have saved Pinnacle Group.

May have saved my job.

But I can never forget what he did to me.

Chapter Fifteen

Alex

I just need to talk to her.

That thought rumbles through my head, relentless, circling back over and over like a damn anthem. If I can just make her understand—if I can explain why I had to pretend to be a janitor, why I left the way I did—she’ll see it from my perspective. She’ll come around. I know she will.

But she won’t give me the chance.

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