BOUND BY ONE NIGHT

Chapter 4

Lavender’s POV

If someone had told me two years ago that I’d be working for a man like Alexander Robinson, I would have laughed in their face. Not because I didn’t believe people like him existed, ruthless, untouchable, dangerously magnetic. But because I’d promised myself, I’d never orbit anyone like that again.

And yet, there I was, orbiting him. Every damn day. It was getting harder to pretend he didn’t affect me. The morning started the same as always coffee, files, reminders to myself that nerves were unprofessional. Except, this morning, something was off. He greeted me. That might sound ridiculous, but Alexander Robinson didn’t greet people. He gave orders. He demanded results. He didn’t lower himself to niceties like “good morning.”

And yet, as I walked past his office, he looked up from his laptop and said it. “Morning.” Just one word. Smooth, casual. But it hit me like a shock. I froze for half a second, managing to reply, “Morning, Mr. Robinson,” in what I hoped was an even tone. When I walked away, I could feel his eyes on me. That shouldn’t have mattered. It shouldn’t have made my pulse skip. But it did.

At the 9 a.m. meeting, he had me sit beside him. Usually, that was Daniel’s spot. The logical part of my brain told me it was just business. A scheduling decision. Nothing more. But logic doesn’t explain why my heartbeat synced with every low word that came out of his mouth. He was close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from him. Close enough that when I turned a page, the back of my hand brushed the fabric of his sleeve.

He didn’t flinch. Neither did I. But my stomach was a battlefield of nerves. When the call ended, I started to gather the files, keeping my eyes down. “I’ll send the minutes before noon, Mr. Robinson.”

“You handled yourself well,” he said, voice low and even. I looked up. For a second, I thought I’d misheard. “Thank you, sir.” He studied me for a moment, unreadable. Then, softer: “Don’t thank me. Just keep doing it.” And there it was again, the faintest curve of his mouth, not quite a smile, but enough to make my chest tighten.

The rest of the day blurred into quiet chaos, phone calls, schedules, people needing things they could have solved themselves. I was good at compartmentalizing. I’d learned early that professionalism meant building walls. But every time I passed his office, those walls cracked just a little. Because he kept looking at me.

Not constantly, not inappropriately, but with a kind of sharp awareness, like he was trying to figure out something he couldn’t name. I hated that I noticed. I hated more that I cared. At noon, I went to the break room for another cup of coffee. Daniel and one of the interns were already there, laughing about something.

“Hey, Brooks,” Daniel said. “You looked like you were about to combust in there. He’s intense, right?” I shrugged, forcing a small smile. “That’s one word for it.” The intern, a sweet, nervous kid named Marcus laughed. “Robinson’s terrifying. But you? You handle him like a pro.”

“I handle paperwork, not people,” I said lightly. Marcus grinned. “Still impressive. Most people can’t even look him in the eye.”

“Maybe that’s the trick,” I said. “You look him in the eye, he can’t smell fear.” They both laughed. I smiled and reached for the coffee pot. That’s when I saw him. Standing just outside the doorway, silent, watching.

Alex. The laughter died instantly. Daniel mumbled something about checking emails and all but sprinted out. Marcus followed. I stood there, hand frozen midair.

“Mr. Robinson,” I said, keeping my tone polite, neutral. “Did you need something?” His gaze flicked from me to the now-empty room, then back. “Just passing through.” He turned as if to leave, then stopped. “You seem… comfortable here.”

“I try to be.” He nodded once, slowly, eyes still fixed on me. “That’s good. Not many people last this long.” There was something about the way he said it, almost like a warning. Or maybe a compliment he didn’t know how to give. When he left, I realized I’d been holding my breath. That evening, I stayed late. The office had gone quiet, the kind of quiet that amplifies every sound. The soft click of my keyboard. The hum of the city below. The occasional murmur of my own heartbeat reminding me that I was still human.

I didn’t notice him until he spoke. “You should go home.” I jumped slightly. He was leaning against the doorway, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened. He looked more human than I’d ever seen him tired, but still dangerously composed. “I just wanted to finish tomorrow’s report,” I said quickly.

“Tomorrow’s report can wait.” He stepped inside, hands in his pockets. “You’ve been here since eight.”

“So have you,” I pointed out. He arched an eyebrow. “Difference is, I own the company.”

“Fair point,” I murmured. For a moment, neither of us spoke. The silence stretched, heavy but not uncomfortable. Then he said quietly, “You don’t have to prove anything, Lavender.” That startled me. “Excuse me?” He took a step closer. “You work harder than anyone here. You don’t have to break yourself trying to be perfect.”

I stared at him, unsure what to say. “I’m just doing my job.”

“I know.” His gaze softened, just slightly. “But maybe it’s time you let yourself breathe.” My heart stuttered. It wasn’t just the words, it was the way he said them, low and unguarded. Like he meant it. He moved past me then, reaching for the file I’d been typing from. His arm brushed mine, just enough to send a rush of warmth up my skin. I stepped back instinctively, but his voice stopped me.

“Lavender.” I looked up. For a moment, the world felt suspended, the hum of the lights, the city noise below, even the air between us. His eyes were dark, searching, as if he was fighting something too. Then he looked away. “Go home.”

I nodded, throat tight. “Goodnight, Mr. Robinson.” He hesitated, just a second. “Goodnight.” The elevator ride down felt endless. My reflection in the mirrored wall looked calm, collected but inside, I was chaos. Because somewhere between that first “morning” and the way he’d said my name tonight, something had changed.

And I didn’t know if it was him, or me, or both. All I knew was that I was falling into something I swore I’d never touch. And if I wasn’t careful, Alexander Robinson might be the end of me.