Desperate Hearts

Scars Beneath the Suit

Alex POV

The apartment was too quiet,but tonight, silence had teeth.

I poured myself a glass of whiskey and sat by the window overlooking the city, the glass pressed cool against my palm. I should’ve been replaying numbers, projections, tomorrow’s agenda. That was my routine. Keep moving. Keep building. Keep forgetting.

Instead, all I saw was her.

Zara, across from me at that café table. The steam curling between us. The way she tilted her head when she laughed. The surprise in her eyes when I told her I paid attention.

I shouldn’t have said that. It was a slip. Too much truth.

Because the truth was—I noticed everything. The exact shade of lipstick she wore today. The way her sarcasm softened when she was tired. The fact that she twirled her pen when she was thinking. Little things I had no business memorizing.

I leaned back, closing my eyes, trying to chase away the image of her smile. But it clung to me, stubborn, like the scent of her perfume after she left my office.

I’d promised myself, after Claire, that I wouldn’t let anyone close again. The betrayal had cut too deep, left scars I carried like armor. I’d built walls high enough to keep anyone out.

And then Zara walked in and didn’t even bother knocking them down. She just slipped through the cracks I hadn’t noticed were still there.

I downed the whiskey in one swallow, the burn doing nothing to erase the ache in my chest.

She was my employee. My responsibility. This couldn’t happen.

And yet, for the first time in years, I wanted something I couldn’t have.

For the first time in years… I wasn’t sure I cared about the consequences.

It was late when I noticed she was still at her desk.

The next day, after working hours, everyone else had gone home, the office hushed and hollow, but Zara’s lamp still burned, her head bent over papers.

“Still here?” I asked from the doorway.

She looked up, surprised. “Almost done. I’ll just grab a cab after.”

The thought of her standing alone on a dark street didn’t sit well with me.

“I’ll drive you.”

She hesitated. “That’s not necessary”

“I wasn’t asking.”

Minutes later, she was in my car, her perfume soft in the air, her presence filling the silence I usually craved.

At first, neither of us spoke. The city lights streaked past, the hum of the engine steady. But I could feel her, every shift of her body, every glance she tried not to make.

“You challenge me,” I said suddenly, gripping the wheel tighter.

She turned, startled. “What?”

“You don’t back down. Everyone else does.” I exhaled sharply. “It’s… infuriating.”

Her lips curved, just slightly. “Maybe you need it.”

The corner of my mouth almost betrayed me with a smile. Almost.

Then, at the next light, it happened.

A sudden flare of white. Then another.

Flashes. Dozens of them.

“Damn it,” I muttered, instincts kicking in as I saw someone taking pictures of Zara and I,it seemed like She noticed too, cause Her hand flew to her face.

I pulled forward the second the light turned green, jaw like iron. I hated that they caught her in this. Hated that they’d make her part of my circus.

But it was too late.

The next morning, every headline screamed the same thing:

“Billionaire Bachelor Alex Kingston, Betrayed by Ex, Spotted Moving On With Beautiful Secretary”.

The last thing I wanted was for Zara to get caught up in my drama. She didn’t seem to know anything about the situation with my ex, but now the media would definitely dig it all up again turning me into the subject of attention without a second thought for how I feel. Sometimes, being rich honestly sucks.