BOUND BY ONE NIGHT

Chapter 3

Alexander POV

I don’t believe in distractions. Not in my office. Not in my life. Every hour of my day is calibrated, calls, meetings, decisions that tilt markets and shift numbers on screens most people will never see. Order is survival. Emotion is noise. And yet… for the last thirty minutes, I hadn’t read a single line of the quarterly report in front of me.

Because I could still smell her perfume on the air. It lingered, faint and maddening, something clean, soft, unassuming. The kind of scent that shouldn’t fit in a room like this. I closed the file and leaned back in my chair, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“Get it together, Alex,” I muttered.

But my mind replayed the way she’d looked at me when she said, ‘You already have people. You just pretend you don’t.’ That shouldn’t have hit me. No one got under my skin like that. No one talked to me like that. And yet she did. Calmly. Fearlessly.

Two years she’d been here, quiet, punctual, the kind of employee you barely noticed until you realized you depended on her. I’d hired her because she was steady, incorruptible. Not one of those wide-eyed opportunists who thought flirting could buy promotions. Now I wasn’t sure who she was anymore.

My phone buzzed. My mother’s name flashed on the screen. Perfect timing.

“Mother,” I answered.

“Alexander, you sound exhausted,” she said, her tone all silk and concern. “Are you eating properly?”

“I’m running a multi-billion-dollar company, not a kindergarten. I’ll live.”

“You always say that. You’re thirty-three, darling, not immortal.” I sighed, swivelling toward the glass wall that overlooked the skyline. “Was there a reason for this call?”

“Yes. Dinner this weekend. Saturday. Eight o’clock. Your grandmother insists.”

“Mother...”

“She’s threatening to show up at your office if you don’t.” I almost smiled. “Tell her I’d rather avoid that spectacle.”

“Good. Bring Lila.” The smile vanished. “Why?”

“She’s your girlfriend, Alexander. And your grandmother adores her. She keeps saying she wants to see you two together more often.” Of course she did. The entire arrangement was her idea. The perfect merger between old money and corporate power. “I’ll see if Lila’s free,” I said flatly.

“Please do. And Alexander…” Her voice softened. “You work too hard. You need balance.” I hung up before she could say love. That word never sat right with me. It was transactional in my world, just another currency. I turned back to the desk, intending to drown myself in work. But instead, my mind wandered, to the way Lavender’s lips had parted when she’d said my name.

Later that evening, I found myself standing by the office window long after everyone had gone home. The city glowed below glass towers, red brake lights, the hum of a million lives intersecting. Usually, this view grounded me. Tonight, it felt… hollow.

I opened my laptop, checking the sent folder. Her email was still there. Precise. Efficient. Perfect. But I kept rereading it like an i***t. There was a rhythm to her writing, clean sentences, no wasted words. Like she spoke. Like she thought.

I wasn’t supposed to notice things like that. With a quiet curse, I snapped the laptop shut. Maybe I needed to get laid. That thought should’ve been simple, but it wasn’t. Because every face that came to mind wasn’t faceless like usual, it was hers. That was unacceptable. I picked up my phone, scrolled through contacts, found Lila’s name, and hit call.

She answered on the second ring, voice sweet and sharp. “Alex. To what do I owe this rare honour?”

“Dinner. Saturday. With my mother and grandmother.” A pause. Then a low, pleased laugh. “Finally. The family summons. I knew your mother couldn’t resist me forever.”

“It’s not about you.”

“It’s always about me, darling.”

I closed my eyes briefly. “Just be ready by seven.”

“Of course. Should I assume you’ll pick me up?”

“Driver will.”

“Cold as ever,” she said with mock disappointment. “You really should let me thaw you out sometime.”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Fine. But Alex…” Her tone dropped. “Try smiling once in a while. It won’t kill you.” The call ended. I slipped the phone into my pocket and stared at the reflection of the skyline again. Lila was perfect on paper, elegant, connected, ruthless. But she was also transparent. Everything with her was performance. Even affection.

She’d never looked at me the way Lavender did today, half defiance, half fear, like she was daring me to prove her wrong. And God help me, I wanted to. The next morning, I was in early. I told myself it was to review merger documents, but really, I wanted to see if she’d arrive before eight like she always did.

She did. Coffee in one hand, files in the other, hair pulled back. Efficient, quiet, untouchable. “Morning,” I said as she passed my open door. She froze, just for a second, like she wasn’t sure if I’d actually spoken. Then she turned. “Morning, Mr. Robinson.” Her tone was smooth, polite, practiced. But her fingers tightened slightly on the folder.

“Blueline’s counsel called,” I said. “You’ll join the 9 a.m. call.” Her eyes widened. “Sir, that’s usually Daniel’s role....”

“Not today.”

“Yes, Mr. Robinson.” She nodded and walked away, and I watched her until she disappeared into the elevator lobby. Something about the way she carried herself, the poise, the quiet strength, it unnerved me more than arrogance ever could. People who wanted things were predictable. People who didn’t want anything were dangerous.

The 9 a.m. call dragged. Half the board stumbled through figures; the lawyers danced around clauses. Lavender sat beside me, taking notes, calm and collected. Every so often, I’d catch the faintest movement of her hand, the soft scrape of her pen, the scent of her shampoo when she leaned forward.

I forced myself to focus on the spreadsheet, not the woman three feet away. When the call ended, the others filed out. She stayed to gather her notes. I watched her for a moment before speaking. “You handled yourself well.” She glanced up, clearly surprised. “Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t thank me,” I said quietly. “Just keep doing it.” She smiled, small and cautious. “That’s the plan.” Something twisted in my chest. I told myself it was indigestion.

By noon, I’d convinced myself it was nothing, just workplace proximity, stress, biological nonsense. But when I saw her laughing with one of the interns near the elevators, the irritation that flared was… disproportionate. The intern said something that made her laugh again, and I hated the sound of it. Not the laugh itself, it was beautiful, but that it wasn’t mine.

I shut my office door harder than necessary and stared at my reflection in the glass. “What the hell is wrong with you?” I asked the man looking back. He didn’t answer. But his jaw was clenched, and his pulse was visible at his throat. I’d built my empire on control markets, people, outcomes. I could predict everything.

Everything except her. And that terrified me more than I’d ever admit.