Page 8 of The Alpha's Crimson Vow

“Oh, Alex,” I say, my tone gentler now. “Come in.” I gesture toward the space in front of my desk, my irritation already fading.

He steps in fully, closing the door behind him with a quiet click. A warm smile lights up his face as he holds out a coffee cup in one large hand. “Good evening, Ms. Lockhart. I thought I might bring you some coffee.”

I tilt my head slightly, my eyes locked on him as I process the gesture. It’s unexpected—sweet in a way I’m not used to. My surprise must be written all over my face, because he clears his throat, “I just knew you like to work late. And I thought you might need the caffeine boost.”

The simplicity of it, the thoughtfulness, is disarming. He looks so earnest, standing there like a child eager to help, and it sends a warmth through me. I can’t help but smile. Not the polite, practiced one I give during meetings, but a real, genuine smile. “Thank you, Alex,” I say softly.

He nods, his own smile widening as he steps closer and sets the cup on my desk. The warmth of his presence lingers in the air, stirring memories of that night over ramen—the way I felt so light, so at ease, so completely myself in his company. The thought makes me hesitate, watching him as he starts to retreat, and before I can think better of it, the words slip out.

“How about dinner again?” I ask.

He stops, turning back to look at me. There’s something in his expression—something I can’t quite pin down. An air of quiet confidence, almost like he’s holding onto some secret he has no intention of sharing. Then, as if deciding something, his features soften, and he gives a slow nod. “Guess I’ll go grab more ramen,” he says, already heading for the door.

“Oh no. Goodness, no,” I say quickly, laughing as I shake my head. “I’ll order something better this time.”

“Well… the ramen was admittedly rather salty,” he admits, his lips quirking into a playful smile.

“Uh huh,” I reply, a laugh bubbling out of me before I can stop it. The lightness of the moment washes over me, a welcome contrast to the heaviness of the day.

The pizza arrives quickly, the aroma wafting through the office as I set the box on the small table in the corner. I pop open a bottle of wine and pour us both generous glasses. The first slice of pizza disappears easily, and the meal feels lighter, more enjoyable, than the salty ramen from that other night.

Alex sits across from me, his massive frame making the chair he’s chosen look laughably small. He eats with quiet enthusiasm, while I lean back in my seat, gesturing with my wine glass as my words tumble out. The wine warms me, loosening my guard in a way I don’t often allow. But it’s easy with Alex. Too easy.

The conversation flows like the wine, smooth and unhurried. Alex listens attentively, his calm presence grounding me. He doesn’t need to fill the silence with unnecessary words, and I respect that about him. It gives me room to breathe, to talk, to vent. And talk, I do.

“I was a half second away from ripping the entire list to shreds right there in the meeting,” I say, punctuating my words with a sigh as I toss a pizza crust onto my plate.

“That would have been quite dramatic,” he says, a hint of amusement in his tone.

I pick up another slice, taking a bite before responding. “Yeah, well, not nearly as dramatic as being forced to go out with one of the board members’ sons. They’re all spoilt, entitled jerks, just like Chris Winters.”

There’s something endearing about how he listens to my frustrations as if he understands them. He reaches for the bottle and tops off my glass, the gesture so simple yet so thoughtful.

I take a sip. The words slip out before I can think better of them, born of the moment and the comforting ease of Alex’s company. “You know… honestly, I wish I could just take you.”

The room feels still for a beat, my careless statement settling between us. My eyes flick to his face, searching for his reaction. But Alex only grins again, the same warm, genuine grin.

“It must be a lot of pressure,” he says thoughtfully. “But I think you should do what you think is right.”

His words land heavier than I expect. He doesn’t press, doesn’t offer advice beyond that. Just a gentle reminder to trust myself.

I nod, mulling over his words as I take another bite of pizza. He’s right, of course. But for now, I push the thought aside. The gala, the list, the pressure of it all—it can wait.

Tonight is about pizza and wine and conversation. Tonight, I can forget about all my worries for a moment.

Even if only for a moment.

Chapter Three

Katherine

The days have been speeding by this week. Maybe it’s because Friday is the Pinnacle Group gala, and time always seems to fly by when a date where you have to do something you’re not exactly thrilled by approaches. But also, maybe it’s because of work.

There’s a project to be completed this week. With the gala coming up, I’ve had the completion date moved forward, and so everyone is on their toes.

By tomorrow at noon, the entire project needs to be wrapped up, and the usual hum of the office has escalated to a near frenzy. It’s 7 PM on a Wednesday, and instead of the usual quiet, the office still buzzes with activity. I can hear muffled conversations from down the hall, the rapid clacking of keyboards, the occasional shuffle of papers. Everyone is pushing to get this over the finish line.

I, too, am buried in my work, the familiar rhythm of my fingers tapping against the keyboard filling my office. Audits, files, and department reports scroll across my screen, each demanding my attention. A small pang of sympathy flits through me for the staff still grinding away, but I suppress it quickly. This is part of the job—a part I’ve grown accustomed to.

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