The Alpha's Crimson Vow

4

Alex steps inside quietly, holding a steaming pack of ramen in one hand and an energy drink in the other.

I gesture toward the small table in front of me, and he sets everything down carefully, the steam rising in soft curls from the ramen.

He straightens and nods, his expression curt yet warm, like he’s genuinely glad I’ll eat something. No words, no unnecessary small talk. Just that quiet, steady presence. He turns toward the door, clearly intent on leaving me to it.

But something stops me. Maybe it’s the lingering nerves from earlier, the way my hands still feel unsteady. Or maybe it’s the simple gratitude welling up in me for how kind he’s been. Whatever it is, the words are out before I think too hard about them.

“Could you stay for a moment? I’d like to share.” I gesture toward the food, my voice soft but audible enough.

He pauses, turning back toward me. For a moment, his eyes linger on mine, as if he’s weighing the request. Then, a gentle smile crosses his face. “Thank you, Ms. Lockhart,” he says, stepping closer and lowering himself into the chair across from me.

The air in the room seems to change as he sits. It’s subtle—a kind of quiet safety that wraps itself around me. It feels warm, comforting, like sitting with an old friend even though I barely know him.

I pick up the ramen, breaking apart the chopsticks from the side of the pack. As I hand him the energy drink, I can’t help but reflect on the irony.

My evening had started with a fancy dinner at an upscale restaurant, where I sat across from a man who couldn’t have been further from the definition of “gentleman.” And now here I am, sharing a box of instant ramen with a janitor I barely know.

And yet, this moment feels more real, more human. Chris Winters and his designer suit are nothing compared to Alex and his simple kindness. A kindness that, in this moment, a small part of me hopes I will come to see more of.

Chapter Two

Katherine

“Lady and gentlemen.”

My cousin Frank stands in front of the board as he begins his presentation, cunning green eyes shooting a snide look my way.

I can clearly hear the condescension in his tone when he says “lady”, as if trying to remind me that I’m the only woman here, trying to intimidate me somehow.

But it has the opposite effect. I am the only woman here. And the only woman here is their boss.

He goes on, pointing at the charts on the projector screen as he addresses the boardroom, “as you can see here, the proposed expansion into Asia may sound attractive, but it’s just not something we are prepared for… our infrastructure doesn’t currently…”

His words float toward me, but they don’t fully register. “... significant risk to our current operations… market volatility... potential erosion of shareholder value.” I barely listen to him. I don’t need to. It’s the same tired argument he’s been pushing since I proposed the expansion into Asia. Of course, he’s against it.

Frank. My cousin. My blood. He’s wanted my chair so badly he practically salivated over it. He takes every chance he can to undermine me, to poke holes in my plans, to cast doubt on my decisions. It’s pathetic, really.

I roll my eyes so subtly. He’s still talking, his voice climbing in intensity like he’s preaching to a congregation. He wants the board to back him, to rally against me.

I cross my legs beneath the table, smoothing my pencil skirt as I lean back in my chair. I force myself to appear engaged, my gaze locked on him, but my thoughts begin to wander.

This is such a waste of time. Frank doesn’t understand the vision, the potential, the necessity of this expansion. He’s too small-minded, too focused on protecting his comfort zone to see the bigger picture.

The fire of my annoyance dulls for a moment, giving way to something softer, warmer. My thoughts tilt, drifting to last night.

It’s almost comical—the contrast between this sterile boardroom and the memory of my office, where I sat cross-legged on the couch, sharing a bowl of instant ramen with Alex. The warmth of that moment sneaks into me like sunlight breaking through a storm cloud. I almost smile, but I catch myself and quickly adjust my expression, tilting my head as if I’m considering Frank’s latest graph.

It wasn’t the food—Goodness, no. It was way too salty. But it didn’t matter. For the first time in... I don’t know how long, I felt full. Not in the literal sense, but something deeper. Sitting there, over a pack of ramen that barely had any flavor, and a can of an energy drink, I felt something that’s become increasingly rare for me: ease.

With Alex, I didn’t feel like I had to have my guard up. I didn’t have to measure every word, calculate every move, or outmaneuver someone’s agenda. I could just be. The thought is terrifying and thrilling all at once.

I can hear my own voice from last night, rapid and unfiltered, spilling out anecdotes, half-formed thoughts, and even a few ridiculous tangents about the latest board drama. I remember the way he sat there, quiet but attentive, his eyes warm and steady. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t try to redirect the conversation, didn’t even seem bored. He just... listened.

And I talked. God, did I talk. I don’t think I’ve ever said that much to anyone in one sitting. But with him, it felt natural. Like the words were spilling out of me because they’d been waiting for someone like him to hear them. Someone who didn’t need to challenge me, but simply see me.

Frank’s voice jolts me back to the present, his tone insistent now, as if he’s gaining momentum. “... and if we proceed, the financial risks will undoubtedly outweigh the potential benefits.” His gaze darts toward me, sharp and calculating.

I meet his gaze, my lips curling into the faintest hint of a smile. It’s not warm. It’s not meant to be. It’s the smile of someone who’s already ten moves ahead, who knows exactly how this meeting will end, no matter how much noise he makes in the meantime.

“Frank.” My voice cuts through his monologue like a blade. He falters for half a second, but quickly covers it up.

“The expansion to Asia,” I say, my tone steady, commanding, leaving no room for debate, “will go ahead.”

Silence.