Page 7 of The Alpha's Crimson Vow

His face goes red. I turn to the board.

“I don’t want a slice. I want the whole cake. Rather than sharing a slice amongst ourselves, wouldn’t everyone be more satisfied if we had the whole cake to share?” I ask.

The boardmembers have to agree with me. Even they see it at this point. Despite the doubts they have in me, the one I see so clearly in their eyes, they know that I’m right.

“Even though it might take a little longer, wait for the whole cake,” I command.

Silence. The kind that stretches and gnaws at the edges of the room. Frank’s eyes dart to the others, searching for backup, but none of them speak. My authority is absolute, and he knows it.

“The expansion will go ahead as planned.” I declare with an air of finality.

Frank stands there looking like he’d rather melt into the floor, his face flushed.

I push back my chair with deliberate slowness.

“Well,” I begin, keeping my tone pointed, “if that will be all—” Before I can finish, an old, raspy voice interrupts. “Actually, there is one more thing to address.”

I stop mid-sentence, my eyes narrowing as I turn toward the source of the interruption. Lawrence. My uncle. The oldest person in this room. He sits to my left, his hunched frame radiating an air of gravitas that demands attention, even as his frail hands rest lightly on the table.

There’s something about him—the way he moves, slow and deliberate, every motion precise. If I didn’t know him better, I might have mistaken him for something otherworldly, a wolf shifter, perhaps. Not long ago, the very notion would have seemed absurd. But in the past few months, I’ve learned that this world is far more than it appears. Supernatural beings exist.

But Lawrence is human. It’s his title that makes him formidable. He is the head of the family elders.The spokesperson for a group of traditionalists who view Pinnacle Group as less of a corporation and more of a family dynasty. And, of course, he has something to say.

I sink back into my chair, schooling my features into neutrality. I already know what’s coming. Lawrence doesn’t speak unless it’s to make a point—usually one designed to undermine me.

“I have to say, Katherine,” he begins, his words slow, “myself, as well as the other elders, are quite disappointed with how things went with Mr. Chris Winters.”

The name sends a faint ripple of annoyance through me, but I push it aside, leaning back in my chair. I let out a slow, measured sigh. “That doesn’t sound like a pressing matter that warrants discussion in this meeting, Uncle Lawrence,” I say, my tone icy.

“Oh, but it is,” he replies, his voice carrying an eerie calmness. “You see, we’ve made it abundantly clear how your status as a single woman is… problematic, given the position you now hold.”

My fingers curl against the armrests of my chair, but I don’t flinch. “And I believe I’ve made it abundantly clear,” I say sharply, “that my private affairs have no bearing on my ability to perform as CEO.”

His eyes, sharp and unyielding despite their age, lock onto mine. There’s something unnerving about the way he looks at me—not fear-inducing, but unsettling in the way only someone used to unquestioned authority can be. He’s testing me, waiting for me to fold under the pressure. But I don’t.

The other board members stir in their seats, their discomfort palpable. I catch a few of their glances—wide-eyed, hesitant—as if they’re silently begging me to relent. But I don’t care. I won’t be cowed by Lawrence.

He sighs and straightens slightly. “The annual Pinnacle Group gala is this Friday,” he says, his voice taking on that maddeningly patient tone of his, like he’s speaking to a child.

“I’m aware,” I reply coolly.

He continues. “The elders have taken the liberty of compiling a list of suitable dates for you to attend with. You may select anyname on it.” He slides a piece of paper across the table. It stops in front of me, and I glance down at it.

The list is exactly what I expect—names of sons of board members, each one more predictable than the last. I spot the final name and almost laugh. It’s so transparent, it’s insulting. A carefully curated selection of “appropriate” men to parade at my side like some sort of trophy, all under the guise of preserving the company’s image.

Lawrence leans forward. “As CEO, you are required to attend. And you must attend with a date. So please, Katherine, don’t embarrass us.”

I slowly rise from my seat, refusing to dignify his command with anything more than a single, withering look.

“That will be all.” I push away from the table, the sound of my heels against the floor as I exit the boardroom.

The rest of the day drifts by in a blur, the hours bleeding into one another as I bury myself in the comfort of work. My desk is a fortress, the spreadsheets and emails my shield against the memory of that infuriating board meeting. Lawrence’s words echo in my head like an annoying buzz I can’t quite shake. I focus harder on the screen, the numbers blurring slightly as I type furiously, as if working fast enough will erase the day’s irritations.

I don’t even notice how late it’s gotten until my eyes flick to the window. The inky black sky outside reflects faintly against the glass, interrupted only by the soft glow of city lights. I glance at my watch. 8 p.m. The quiet in my office is broken only by the soft clicking of my keyboard as I hammer out yet another email.

The knock at the door interrupts my rhythm, the sound pulling me out of my haze. I don’t even look up as I call out, my voiceloud, laced with the frustration that’s been clinging to me all day. “Just come in!”

The door creaks open, and I glance up, my sharpness immediately softening as Alex steps carefully into the room. His broad shoulders seem almost too large for the doorway, his massive frame moving with an endearing hesitancy, like he’s unsure if he’s intruding. He peeks inside first, his expression cautious, almost asking for permission before fully stepping in.

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