Desperate Hearts

Possessive Instincts

The next morning, I arrived earlier than usual. I wasn’t about to give Alex Kingston the satisfaction of catching me unprepared. The board meeting was scheduled for ten, but by nine, I was already seated at my desk, double-checking files I’d organized the night before.

I told myself it was professionalism.

But deep down, I knew it was because of him.

The knock on his office door came at exactly nine-thirty. He stepped out, perfectly pressed in a charcoal suit, his tie knotted with military precision. Even in the bustle of the office, he stood out—commanding, untouchable.

His eyes swept over me briefly. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” I said, clutching the folder a little too tightly.

We walked together down the hall, the silence between us heavy but strangely alive. His stride was longer than mine, purposeful, and I had to quicken my pace just to keep up.

When we entered the boardroom, the atmosphere shifted instantly. Executives straightened in their chairs, conversations cut short. Alex didn’t just walk into a room—he owned it.

I busied myself with laying out documents, deliberately avoiding his gaze. But I felt it, like heat brushing against the side of my face. He was watching me.

As the meeting started, I sank into my role—passing files, jotting notes, making sure slides were ready. But the entire time, I was hyperaware of him. The way his voice carried, calm but commanding. The way he leaned back in his chair, one hand resting against his jaw. The way he never smiled, not once.

Halfway through, someone cracked a joke about quarterly targets, and the room erupted with laughter. I glanced up instinctively only to find Alex looking directly at me. Not at the joke-teller. Not at the charts. At me.

I dropped my gaze quickly, pretending to shuffle papers. My cheeks burned.

After two hours, the meeting adjourned, and everyone shuffled out. I was gathering leftover notes when his voice stopped me.

“Stay.”

I froze. The last person lingered at the door before it closed, leaving just the two of us in the massive boardroom.

Alex leaned against the table, arms crossed. “You handled yourself well.”

It was almost a compliment, except his tone made it sound like an accusation.

“Thank you,” I said cautiously.

He studied me for a moment, his gaze unreadable. Then: “That laugh yesterday. With Daniel.”

I stiffened. “What about it?”

Something flickered in his eyes again annoyance, maybe even jealousy but his jaw tightened before he could answer.

“Be careful who you get close to here,” he said instead.

The warning was sharp, deliberate. But beneath it, I heard something else.

Possession.

I opened my mouth, ready to ask what he meant, but he pushed past me, his cologne brushing the air between us as he left the boardroom without another word.

I stood there alone, heart racing, wondering not for the first time what exactly I’d gotten myself into at Kingston & Co.

I told myself I wouldn’t think about it again his warning, the way his voice had dropped in the boardroom, the way it had felt like more than just a boss speaking to an employee.

But of course, I thought about nothing else.

The day dragged on with a blur of phone calls, endless typing, and quick trips across the office, but every time I looked up, I felt his presence. Even if he wasn’t near me, I knew he was there. Watching. Listening. Pretending he wasn’t.

By late afternoon, my eyes burned from staring at my screen. I rubbed my temples and muttered under my breath, “I need coffee or I’ll pass out.”

I didn’t expect anyone to hear me.

But a moment later, his voice came from the doorway. “Come with me.”

I looked up, startled. Alex Kingston didn’t invite. He ordered. But something in his tone made this sound… different.

“Where?” I asked carefully.

“Coffee,” he said simply.

I hesitated. Every part of me screamed that this was a bad idea. But my legs had a mind of their own, and before I knew it, I was following him out of the building and down the block to a quiet café I’d never noticed before.

The staff greeted him like they knew him. He ordered for both of us without asking and I almost protested, but when the cup landed in front of me, it was exactly what I would have chosen.

“How did you” I started.

He shrugged. “I pay attention.”

That threw me more than it should have. For a moment, I didn’t know what to say.

We sat across from each other, the air oddly calm. Without the walls of the office, he seemed… lighter. Not warm exactly, but less guarded. His tie was slightly loosened, his sleeves rolled back, and I found myself staring at his hands as he wrapped them around his cup. Strong. Steady. Hands that looked like they’d never known hesitation.

“Why are we here?” I asked finally.

His eyes met mine, sharp but softer than usual. “Because if we’d stayed in that office, I would’ve said something I shouldn’t.”

My heart stumbled in my chest. I should have pressed him, demanded what he meant. But instead, I looked down at my coffee, suddenly too aware of the heat in my cheeks.

We sat in silence for a while, sipping, not speaking. And yet, it didn’t feel empty. It felt… full.

When we finally walked back, side by side, our hands brushed once accidental, fleeting but it sent a jolt through me so strong I almost missed a step.

He didn’t move away. Neither did I.

And for the first time since I’d started working at Kingston & Co., I wondered if maybe… just maybe… I wasn’t the only one fighting this.