BOUND BY ONE NIGHT

Chapter 12

Alex’s POV

I arrived at the office expecting routine, a stack of reports, a team too afraid to make eye contact, and Lavender waiting outside my door with her usual quiet efficiency.

Except the chair outside my office was empty.

Not “she’s in the copy room” empty.

Not “she stepped out for coffee” empty.

It looked… abandoned.

Her planner, her pen holder, her water bottle all gone. A ripple of irritation crawled up my spine.

“Where the hell is she?” I muttered, pushing open my office door. Clara, one of the junior assistants, jumped when she saw me. She was placing a stack of files on my desk, hands trembling slightly.

“Good morning, Mr. Robinson,” she whispered.

“Where is Lavender?” I demanded.

She froze, eyes flicking anywhere but my face. “Sir… she.......”

“What?” My voice cut sharper than intended. “Speak.”

“She resigned. Yesterday.”

My heartbeat stopped. “What?” The word tasted wrong in my mouth. “That’s impossible.”

Clara swallowed. “Human Resources said she submitted a formal letter late afternoon. Effective immediately.” For a moment, I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. It felt like someone had punched through the veneer of control I’d spent years polishing.

“She didn’t mention anything to me,” I said quietly.

“No, sir.” Clara bowed her head. “She cleared her desk after hours and left before anyone noticed.” I stared at her, but she seemed small, insignificant against the weight crushing me.

Cleared her desk, left quietly, no goodbye, no confrontation, no explanation. A cold, sharp anger flickered beneath my ribs, not at her, but at the fact that she’d simply… vanished.

“Get HR on the phone,” I said stiffly.

“Yes, sir.”

Clara rushed out. I closed the door and stood alone in the silence, a silence that felt too big, too loud.

Lavender.

Gone.

The memory of her last moments in my apartment flickered through my mind like sparks: the storm outside, her breath against my skin, her eyes afterward, wild, frightened, soft, wrong. I’d told myself it was best she left before sunrise. That it was clean, professional and controlled.

But this her resignation, felt like rejection. A decisive one, I pressed my palm against the desk, grounding myself. I should’ve been relieved. Hell, I should’ve celebrated. She’d been distracting me for weeks. I’d lied to myself, pretended it was admiration, respect, curiosity.

But the truth was simpler: I wanted her and she ran. A knock interrupted the spiral, before I could answer, the door swung open.

“Alex,” Cassandra’s voice chimed like a fork scraping a plate. “You weren’t answering my texts.” Of course she was here.

Perfect timing, Cassandra stepped inside, immaculate in a cream dress, heels clicking in a rhythm that grated on my nerves. Her perfume hit me first, expensive, floral, suffocating. She walked up to me and placed a hand on my chest. “You look tense.”

“I’m busy,” I said, stepping back.

“Oh, darling.” She frowned dramatically. “Everything alright?”

“No.” I brushed past her, pacing behind my desk. “My secretary resigned without notice.”

Her brows arched in amusement. “The quiet one? What’s her name… Lavender?”

My jaw clenched. Hard.

“She was very dedicated,” Cassandra added with a dismissive shrug. “I’m sure you can replace her.”

“She wasn’t replaceable.”

The words left before I could stop them. Cassandra’s smile tightened.

“Oh? She was that good?” I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Cassandra crossed her arms. “You’re unusually irritable today.”

“I’m not in the mood for your commentary,” I said sharply.

“Excuse me?” Her eyes narrowed. “I came to see you. You could at least try to be civil.”

My patience cracked. “Civil?” I snapped. “You barge into my office unannounced, and you’re lecturing me on civility?”

She looked genuinely offended. “Alex, what is going on with you lately?”

Everything, nothing, her name, her disappearance. The echo she left in every corner of this office.

“I’m fine,” I muttered.

Cassandra’s voice softened in the way she believed was seductive. “Sweetheart, if you need to vent, I’m here ” A surge of irritation flared.

“I don’t want to ‘vent.’ And stop calling me sweetheart.” Cassandra blinked. “But you never minded it before.”

“Before,” I repeated under my breath. “Things are different now.”

She stared at me for a long moment, her carefully painted smile fading. Then she laughed brittle, forced.

“Is this about your little secretary quitting?” she scoffed. “Honestly, Alex, you’re acting ridiculous.” The last thread of my restraint snapped.

“Lavender,” I said sharply.

“What?”

“Her name is Lavender. Use it.”

Cassandra looked taken aback, genuinely. “Since when are you this defensive?” I didn’t have an answer. My silence became its own confession. Cassandra stepped closer, eyes narrowing as she studied my face. “Did something happen between you two?”nI turned away. Mistake. Her heels clicked as she followed.

“Alex.” Her tone sharpened. “Look at me.”

“I have work.”

“No. Look. At. Me.” I faced her slowly. Cassandra’s jaw tightened.

“You’re hiding something.”

“I’m not discussing this.”

“I’m your fiancée,” she hissed.

“You’re not my wife.”

Her eyes flashed with icy anger. “So that’s how it is now?” I didn’t respond.

Cassandra exhaled sharply, spinning toward the door. “You know what? Fine. Be stubborn. But don’t expect me to tolerate secrets in this relationship.” She slammed the door on her way out, leaving a c***k of silence behind her.

I sank into my chair, dragging a hand down my face. This day was a disaster.

No , Lavender leaving was the disaster. Clara reappeared at the door. “Sir… HR is on line one.”

I nodded stiffly. HR confirmed it all. Lavender’s resignation was deliberate. Immediate. Non-negotiable. No forwarding address, personal number on file, emergency contacts, there was no way to trail her. She really meant to disappear.

I ended the call and stared at the empty chair outside my office again. The chair that had always been filled by her calm presence. Her quiet strength. Her steady competence. The emptiness felt like an accusation. I reached for my phone before logic caught up.

Her number was still saved, my thumb hovered.

Call.

The line rang once.

Twice.

Three times.

Then, her voicemail. Her soft voice.

“This is Lavender… leave a message.”

I didn’t speak.

I stayed silent until the line disconnected.

I tried again.

Voicemail.

Again.

Voicemail.

I slammed the phone down.

Why was she doing this? Why leave without a word? Why cut ties so ruthlessly?

Because of that night, because she regretted it, because she regretted me. The thought hit harder than I expected. I stood abruptly and walked to the window. The city stretched below, indifferent to my turmoil.

“She’s really gone,” I whispered. And for the first time in a long time, I felt something unfamiliar, something unwelcome, something sharp and heavy settling in my chest.

Loss.

Lavender Brooks, the woman who never tried to impress me, who never flirted, who never saw me as a trophy, had slipped out of my life without looking back. And suddenly the world felt off-balance. I didn’t know then that losing her was only the beginning.

But I knew this much, I wasn’t done with her.

Not by a long shot.