THE ALPHA’S HEARTBEAT

CHAPTER 6: Business,Boundaries and Bruised Promises

Annie’s POV

The word trip echoed in my head long after Jackson said it, like it had weight, like it could bruise if it landed wrong.

I stood in front of him, hands folded, eyes fixed on the line where the carpet met his polished desk. My heart was racing, but my face refused to show it. I had learned quickly that fear fed him. Silence, on the other hand, confused him.

“A business trip?” I finally asked, careful with my tone. Careful with everything.

“Yes.” His voice was sharp, final. “Out of the country. We leave tomorrow night.”

Tomorrow.

That single word twisted my stomach. I had barely survived his house, his rules, his office. Now he wanted to take me somewhere new, somewhere unfamiliar, where I would be even more alone.

“You’ll stay by my side,” he continued. “You’ll do exactly as you’re told. No wandering. No questions. And no embarrassing me.”

I nodded slowly. Saying yes had become a reflex, a shield, a way to avoid punishment I wasn’t strong enough to endure again.

“Good,” he said, standing up. His presence swallowed the room as he walked closer. “Lilian will arrange everything. Clothes. Documents. Passports.”

My chest tightened at the mention of her name. Lilian’s smiles were sharp things. Pretty, but capable of cutting deep.

Jackson tilted my chin up with one finger. Not rough. Not gentle either. Just enough pressure to remind me who held the power.

“You’re mine on this trip, Annie,” he murmured. “Don’t forget that.”

I swallowed. “I won’t.”

He searched my face, as if daring me to lie, then stepped back. Just like that, I was dismissed.

I left his office on shaky legs, my thoughts loud and messy. A trip meant hotel rooms, shared spaces, longer nights. It meant more rules, more watching eyes, more chances to break without anyone noticing.

And somehow, beneath the fear, there was something else.

Curiosity.

I hated myself for it.

⸻

Lilian was already waiting when I stepped into her office. She leaned against her desk, arms crossed, red lips curved into a knowing smile.

“So,” she said smoothly. “You’re traveling with the king.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” I replied.

She laughed softly. “None of us ever do.”

She handed me a folder. Inside were flight details, hotel reservations, and a list of outfits so specific it made my head spin. Colors. Cuts. Heel heights. Even instructions on how my hair should be styled.

“He likes control,” Lilian said, watching my reaction closely. “You’ll learn that it’s easier not to fight it.”

“I’m not fighting,” I said quietly.

Her eyes narrowed, as if she didn’t believe me. “Good. Because men like Jackson don’t lose. They break things instead.”

She moved closer, lowering her voice. “Be careful on this trip, Annie. You’ll be in his world completely. No walls. No hiding.”

“And you?” I asked before I could stop myself. “What are you being careful about?”

Her smile returned, slow and dangerous. “Everything.”

⸻

The plane was quiet, private, and far too luxurious for someone like me. I sat beside Jackson, hands folded in my lap, pretending not to notice the way his arm brushed mine, or how his attention kept drifting back to me no matter how focused he tried to look.

He didn’t touch me. Not really. And somehow that was worse.

Anticipation was its own kind of torture.

When we landed, the city lights spread out beneath us like something unreal. I pressed my face to the window, momentarily forgetting myself.

“Beautiful,” I whispered.

Jackson watched me instead of the view. “It is.”

The hotel was tall, glassy, and intimidating. The room—our room—was worse. One bed. King-sized. Crisp white sheets that felt like a promise and a threat all at once.

“You’ll sleep there,” he said, pointing to the bed.

“And you?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

He smirked. “With you.”

My breath caught, but I didn’t argue. Arguing never ended well.

That night, he didn’t touch me. He watched. Watched me change. Watched me settle into the far edge of the bed. Watched me pretend not to tremble.

“You’re tense,” he said quietly in the dark.

“I’m tired,” I lied.

He shifted closer, his warmth seeping into my space. “You’re scared.”

I stayed silent.

His fingers brushed my wrist, light enough to be accidental, deliberate enough to be anything but. “I won’t hurt you tonight.”

Tonight.

The word lingered between us.

“Sleep,” he added. “I need you sharp tomorrow.”

I lay awake long after his breathing evened out, staring at the ceiling, wondering when survival had started to feel so complicated.

⸻

The meeting the next day was a blur of suits, sharp words, and power plays I barely understood. I sat beside Jackson, quiet and obedient, just as instructed. To them, I was decoration. Something pretty to look at, easy to dismiss.

Until I spoke.

It happened without planning. One of the men across the table laughed, dismissing a proposal Jackson clearly cared about. The tension was thick, heavy.

“They’re underestimating your leverage,” I said softly.

Every head turned.

Jackson’s gaze snapped to me, dark and unreadable.

I swallowed but continued. “They think you need this deal more than they do. But you don’t. Walking away would cost them far more.”

Silence followed. Then murmurs.

The man who had laughed earlier shifted uncomfortably.

Jackson leaned back slowly, a smile spreading across his face. “She’s right.”

The rest of the meeting changed after that.

When it was over, Jackson didn’t speak until we were back in the elevator. Then he grabbed my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes.

“You surprised me,” he said.

“I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“You didn’t.” His thumb brushed my lower lip, thoughtful. “You impressed me.”

Praise from him felt dangerous. Addictive.

Back in the room, the tension snapped.

He kissed me then—not gentle, not cruel. Claiming. Possessive. A reminder.

I let it happen, my hands curling into his shirt, my body responding despite my mind screaming warnings. He broke the kiss first, breathing hard.

“This,” he said, resting his forehead against mine, “is why you stay close.”

I nodded, heart pounding.

That night, sleep came easier, heavier, filled with dreams I refused to name.

And somewhere between fear and longing, I realized something terrifying.

Jackson Rovers was no longer just my captor.

He was becoming my storm.

And storms, no matter how destructive, were impossible to ignore.