MY ALPHA CEO

CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR, LANCASTER

Before Mia could respond, another figure entered the room—a tall, broad-shouldered man with a neatly trimmed beard and dark brown eyes. He wore a chef’s jacket, the name Nico Santorini embroidered on the sleeve.

Adrian immediately stepped back.

Mia’s eyes widened. “Wait—you’re Nico Santorini?”

Nico grinned. “In the flesh.”

Mia had read about him—one of the best private chefs in the world, known for working with elite clients.

Her gaze flickered to Adrian. “What’s going on?”

Adrian leaned against the counter. “Nico has been my personal chef for years. If you’re considering my offer, I figured you should see what the job actually entails.”

Nico chuckled. “I told him he should just let me cook for you, but no—he wanted you to cook for us.”

Mia’s brows shot up. “You want me to cook for you and a world-class chef?”

Adrian smirked. “I want to see what you can do when the pressure is on.”

Mia clenched her fists. “And if I walk out right now?”

His voice dropped, soft but firm. “Then I’ll know you weren’t ready for the challenge.”

Mia’s heart pounded. Damn him.

She glanced at Nico, who simply gave her an encouraging nod.

Fine.

If Adrian Lancaster wanted a taste of her skills, she’d give him something he wouldn’t forget.

Squaring her shoulders, she stepped into the kitchen.

“Let’s do this.”

Mia took a slow, steady breath as she surveyed the kitchen. Every inch of it screamed efficiency. It's sleek stainless steel appliances, pristine marble countertops, and a spice rack so immaculately organized it made her own kitchen look like chaos.

Nico Santorini leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching her with interest. Adrian stood nearby, sipping his wine, his gaze steady and unreadable. The weight of their scrutiny pressed down on her like a physical force, but she refused to let it shake her.

She could do this.

Mia set her bag down and turned to Adrian. “Alright, Lancaster. What am I working with?”

Adrian gestured toward the fridge with an infuriating smirk. “Surprise me.”

Her jaw tightened. Of course, he wouldn’t make this easy. No pre-planned menu or set ingredients. Just an open challenge.

Fine.

Rolling up her sleeves, Mia strode to the fridge and swung it open. Immediately, she took stock: fresh seafood, dry-aged beef, heirloom vegetables, an array of cheeses, and every herb she could possibly need. The sheer quality of ingredients was intimidating on its own—these weren’t grocery store finds. They were hand-picked, premium imports.

A small thrill ran through her. This was an opportunity to showcase what she could really do.

She grabbed a fillet of branzino, a handful of fresh citrus, fennel, and a bottle of what looked like an expensive white wine. Turning back, she caught Nico watching her with an approving nod. “Good choice,” he murmured.

Adrian, however, remained frustratingly unreadable.

Mia set to work, moving with practiced ease. She filleted the branzino with clean, precise cuts, her hands steady despite the pressure. The kitchen was eerily silent, save for the sound of her knife against the board and the occasional clink of glass from Adrian’s wine.

“So, Mia,” Adrian’s voice broke through the quiet, smooth and teasing. “Tell me, is cooking how you deal with stress?”

She glanced at him but didn’t slow down. “Why? Hoping to uncover my secrets?”

Adrian leaned against the counter, watching her with that damned smirk. “Just trying to understand you better.”

Mia scoffed. “You mean trying to get inside my head.”

Nico chuckled from his spot. “Careful, Mia. He does that to people.”

Mia smirked but didn’t take the bait. Instead, she focused on her dish—scoring the fish lightly before rubbing it down with sea salt, fresh thyme, and a drizzle of olive oil. She zested a lemon over it, letting the bright citrus fragrance mix with the scent of the herbs.

As she moved to the stove, she felt Adrian step closer behind her. Not touching, but close enough that the heat of him brushed against her skin. She fought the urge to turn around, to meet whatever challenge was lurking in his gaze.

Instead, she dropped the fish into the pan, the sizzle breaking the tension.

She worked quickly, caramelizing fennel in butter, reducing the white wine into a delicate sauce, and plating with practiced grace. When she finally turned, she found both men watching her, their expressions unreadable.

Mia lifted a brow. “Well?”

Nico stepped forward first, picking up his fork and cutting into the branzino. He took a slow, deliberate bite. His expression remained neutral as he chewed, swallowed, and then…smiled.

“Damn,” he said, shaking his head. “That’s good.”

Mia let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

Adrian, however, took his time. He cut a precise bite, brought it to his lips, and tasted it. Silence stretched between them as he considered, his expression giving away nothing.

Then, finally, he spoke. “Impressive.”

It wasn’t an effusive compliment, but coming from him, it felt like one.

Mia crossed her arms. “So? Did I pass your little test?”

Adrian set his fork down and met her gaze. “You’re talented. There’s no question about that.”

She frowned. “But?”

“But talent isn’t the only thing that matters in my world.” His voice was low, steady. “The real question is, can you handle the pressure? The expectations?”

Mia bristled. “You think I can’t?”

“I think,” he said, stepping closer, “that you haven’t really been tested yet.”

The air between them thickened.

She should have backed away. She should have put distance between them. But she didn’t. Instead, she held his gaze, refusing to be the first to break.

Nico cleared his throat. “Well, this is fun to watch, but I think I’ll grab that wine now.”

Mia exhaled, stepping back, breaking whatever unspoken thing had started to build between her and Adrian.

Adrian’s lips curved slightly, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

Damn him.

She wasn’t sure what kind of game he was playing, but one thing was clear—Adrian Lancaster wasn’t just testing her skills in the kitchen.

He was testing her.

And she’d be damned if she let him win.

Later That Night, Mia stepped out onto the quiet Manhattan sidewalk, the cool night air hitting her skin like a wake-up call. She had done it. She had impressed one of the best chefs in the world and a man who thrived on pushing people to their limits.

But why did she feel like this wasn’t over?

As she walked toward the subway, her phone buzzed. A message.

Adrian: "Not bad, Carter. But next time, I expect to be blown away."

Mia stared at the screen, heat creeping up her neck.

Did he just rejected her for an offer he gave her?

She scoffed, but a small, rebellious smile tugged at her lips as she typed back.

Mia: "Careful what you wish for, Lancaster."

She hit send and slipped her phone into her pocket.

Game on.

Meanwhile, someone stood at a distance in the shadows, watching her. He took out his phone and took a photo of her.

Mia turned around and just immediately, the figure walked away. She stared at him for a moment. She couldn't really see him clearly cause he was wearing a hoodie. She then turned and walked away.

Behind her, the figure followed quietly.