Claimed By My CEO Stepdad

Chapter Twelve

Aria Pov

The secretary led me down a quiet corridor lined with frosted glass and soft carpet that swallowed the sound of our steps. She spoke in a calm, practiced tone, explaining the layout of the executive floor, where the supply closets were, how the internal messaging system worked, and which files I would be responsible for once I settled in. I nodded at the right moments and tried to keep my expression neutral, even though my pulse still had not fully slowed from the moment Alexander’s eyes had met mine in the open office space.

Every detail she listed felt distant, as if it belonged to someone else’s first day. The night at the hotel still sat too close beneath my skin. The ache between my legs had quieted into a low, persistent reminder, and every time I shifted my weight I felt it again. I kept my answers short and polite. The secretary did not seem to notice anything unusual. She was efficient, professional, and clearly used to guiding new people through the same introduction.

She stopped in front of a neat, mid-sized office with a clean desk, a dual-monitor setup, and a view of the city that was only slightly less impressive than the one from his. The glass wall looked out over a stretch of skyline that glittered even in daylight. A sleek laptop sat closed on the desk. A single notepad and pen waited beside it, perfectly aligned.

“This will be yours,” she said. “I’ll give you a few minutes to settle, then we can go over the first set of tasks. If you need anything before that, my desk is just around the corner.”

I thanked her and sat down. The chair was comfortable, expensive, and still felt completely foreign. I placed my hands on the desk and stared at the blank screen in front of me, trying to force my mind into something resembling work mode. The night at the hotel, the cheque for one hundred thousand dollars, the breakfast table where he had called my mother lovely, the silent car ride where I had watched him in the mirror—all of it pressed against the edges of my concentration. I exhaled slowly and tried to focus on the empty surface in front of me.

My phone vibrated against the wood.

Victoria’s name lit the screen.

I frowned. She had left only a short while ago, smiling and waving as she headed back downstairs after the introductions. Why would she be calling already? The question turned over in my mind with a small, uneasy edge. She seemed perfectly fine when she left. There had been no mention of errands or forgotten items.

I answered on the second ring, keeping my voice low.

“Yes, Mom?”

“Aria, go to the supermarket and get me what I told you to buy earlier.” Her voice was casual, almost distracted, as if the request were the most ordinary thing in the world. “I forgot to pick it up on the way home. Don’t take too long.”

I opened my mouth to ask what exactly she meant—she had not mentioned any specific list to me this morning—but she had already ended the call. The silence that followed felt abrupt. I lowered the phone and stared at the dark screen for a moment. The request made little sense, yet her tone had carried the same easy certainty she always used when she expected me to simply handle something.

I sat still for several more seconds, phone still in my hand. The secretary had stepped out to retrieve something from her desk, leaving the small office quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioning. I stood, smoothed the front of my blouse, and walked out into the corridor. The space felt longer than it had on the way in. Every glass panel reflected a version of me that looked composed on the outside and anything but on the inside. My heels made almost no sound on the thick carpet. I kept my shoulders straight and my expression carefully blank, the same way I had in the car when I caught him watching me in the mirror.

I stopped in front of the wide double doors of Alexander’s office. Through the glass I could see him standing near his desk, back partially turned, one hand resting on the surface as if he had just ended another call. The same controlled posture. The same unreadable calm. The city stretched behind him in sharp lines of glass and steel. He looked exactly as he had at breakfast—polished, distant, and completely untouched by the hours we had spent in that hotel room.

I knocked once and opened the door without waiting for an answer.

He turned fully toward me. His eyes moved over my face in a single, brief assessment before settling into the same cool professionalism he wore for everyone else on this floor. The air between us felt thicker than it should have. I kept my voice even, though my pulse had climbed again the moment he looked at me.

“Sir, my mom said I should go to the supermarket.”

As I turned back to open the door, he said I should stop.