Worlds Apart

He’s My Boss

The morning after the club, I woke with two thoughts:

One, I would never survive another night in heels that high.

And two, Alex Kingston’s eyes had followed me into my dreams.

I shook it off. Men like him didn’t linger on women like me. I was just another face in the crowd, a clumsy stranger who nearly toppled into him. A blip on his radar.

Or so I thought.

By nine a.m., I was sitting stiffly at my new desk, clutching my coffee like a lifeline. The office was sleek, all glass walls and polished chrome, a world of ambition where every detail gleamed with money and power.

“First week nerves?” Daniel from HR asked as he passed.

“Something like that,” I muttered, forcing a smile.

In truth, I was more than nervous. This job mattered. It was a chance to build something steady, to climb out of the endless cycle of temporary gigs and finally prove myself. Messing up wasn’t an option.

So when my supervisor dropped a file on my desk with a clipped, “Mr. Kingston wants these prepared before noon,” I didn’t hesitate. I nodded, rolled up my sleeves, and dove in.

It wasn’t until the clock ticked past eleven that I realized exactly who Mr. Kingston was.

I froze, staring at the name on the memo. Kingston Industries. Alex Kingston.

No. No way.

My pulse stumbled. My stomach knotted. Out of all the companies in the city, all the desks I could have been assigned to, it had to be his. The man whose warning still echoed in my head. The man who looked at me like he knew how easily I could burn.

I told myself it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t remember me. A crowded club, a fleeting encounter—he probably met dozens of women like me every weekend.

Still, my hands trembled slightly as I gathered the papers and walked toward his office.

The door was ajar. His voice carried, low and precise, commanding without effort. He was on a call, pacing behind his massive desk, every movement coiled with restrained energy.

I lingered for a moment, heart hammering, before knocking lightly.

He glanced up.

And just like that, the world stilled.

His gaze locked on me, sharp and unwavering, recognition flashing instantly. No hesitation. No doubt.

“Zara.”

He said my name like he’d been expecting me.

I swallowed hard. “Mr. Kingston,” I managed, setting the file on his desk.

He dismissed the call with a curt, “We’ll finish this later,” and set his phone aside. His full attention zeroed in on me, and suddenly the office felt smaller, the air thicker.

“You work here.” Not a question.

“Yes,” I said, lifting my chin. “I started this week.”

His lips curved slightly, though it wasn’t quite a smile. More like a private amusement. “Interesting.”

I shifted under his gaze, desperate to regain footing. “Here are the reports you requested.”

He didn’t look at the file. He looked at me. “Do you often spend your nights in clubs like Elysium?”

The question caught me off guard. My breath hitched. “Excuse me?”

“You seemed… out of place.” He leaned back in his chair, studying me the way he had at the club. “Not the type who enjoys being hunted.”

“I wasn’t—” My voice faltered, then steadied. “I was there for a friend’s birthday. One night. That’s all.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, like he was weighing the truth in my words. “Good. That world devours the unprepared.”

“And you?” I asked before I could stop myself. “Are you prepared?”

For a moment, silence stretched between us. Then his mouth curved, a ghost of a smile. “I own the wolves. Remember?”

The same words from last night. They landed differently now, heavier, more dangerous in the daylight.

I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to break eye contact. “If there’s nothing else, Mr. Kingston…”

“Alex.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“If you’re going to work this closely with me, use my name.”

My pulse stuttered, but I nodded. “Alex.” The word felt foreign on my tongue, intimate in a way it shouldn’t have been.

“Good.” His gaze lingered another beat before he finally glanced at the file. “That’ll be all.”

Relief flooded me. I turned to leave, desperate for fresh air, when his voice stopped me at the door.

“Zara.”

I froze.

“Be careful who you let close,” he said softly. Not a warning this time. A promise.

I stepped out into the corridor, my legs unsteady. I should have felt relief that he remembered me, that he hadn’t dismissed me as a forgettable stranger. Instead, my chest ached with a dangerous truth.

Alex Kingston was no longer just a man I met at a club.

He was my boss.

And that changed everything.