Yesterday's events replayed in my mind. Here I was, contemplating becoming his fake girlfriend while he typed away like nothing had changed. It must be nice being a billionaire - just casually proposing relationship arrangements between conference calls.
"Stop staring at him," I muttered, focusing on my computer screen. The cursor blinked back at me mockingly.
Alexander stood up to take a call, pacing near his floor-to-ceiling windows. Even his walking was annoyingly perfect. Did he practice that too? "How to Walk Like a CEO 101"? His movements were fluid, each step deliberate, like he knew every eye in the office followed his every move.
I tried to refocus on my screen, but my eyes kept darting back to him. His tailored suit hugged his broad shoulders and tapered down to a slim waist.
