BOUND BY ONE NIGHT

Chapter1

Lavender’s POV

“That man doesn’t believe in apologies. Or mercy. Or… God, I don’t know, light?” Its really not professional to speak about your boss like that. Especially not when the said boss is no one else but Alexander Robinson. I mean a tech billionaire, investor mogul, and the closest thing this city had to an apex predator in a three-piece Armani suit.

Still, I whispered it to myself as I stood at the back of the boardroom, hands folded, notepad balanced neatly against my hip. He was late. As always. And the boardroom was so cold I could feel my bones protesting.

“Relax your jaw Lavender”. You look like you’re grinding your teeth again,” came a low murmur from my right. I turned just slightly. Daniel, one of the legal aides, smirked without looking up from his tablet.

“Relax your attitude,” I shot back under my breath.

He chuckled. “Just trying to keep you alive. You know Robinson has a sixth sense for stress. Like a bloodhound that feeds off fear.” Before I could reply, the temperature in the room dropped another five degrees. Or maybe that was just him.

Alexander Robinson walked in like he owned the air itself. Tall, composed, jaw sharp enough to make razors jealous. He wore navy today, subtle pinstripes, the sleeves of his dress shirt just barely rolled up, revealing a $40,000 watch and a hint of forearm vein that had no business looking that... distracting.

Conversations died. Phones were silenced. Even Daniel straightened in his chair like a kid caught cheating on a test. “Morning,” Alex said, voice like black coffee and broken rules. The board muttered replies. He didn’t care. He slid into the chair at the head of the table, flipping open a sleek laptop, eyes scanning, calculating.

“Where are we on the Blueline merger?” he asked without preamble. And just like that, the meeting began. I didn’t speak during meetings unless called on. That was Rule #1 in the unofficial Survival Guide to Working for Alexander Robinson. Rule #2? Never get caught staring.

Which I failed at. Regularly. It wasn’t because he was conventionally handsome, though, of course, he was. It was the intensity. The way he moved through space like gravity bent for him. He made everyone feel smaller, lesser. Some found it hot. I found it... unnerving.

And maybe just a little hot. “Ms. Brooks,” he said, eyes lifting to mine without warning. “Your notes?” Crap. I stepped forward, clearing my throat, pulse thudding in my ears. “Yes, Mr. Robinson . As of this morning, the Blueline acquisition is moving ahead. Legal has flagged two clauses that could delay the paperwork, and there’s a potential press leak from one of their internal sources.”

He didn’t blink. “Define ‘potential.’”

“I’ve spoken with their PR manager. Nothing’s been confirmed, but I recommend drafting a pre-emptive response in case it surfaces.” A pause. His gaze swept over me, clinical and cool. Then, a single nod. “Draft it. Have it on my desk by three.”

“Yes, sir.” I retreated to my corner, ignoring the heat rising in my face. After the meeting, I stayed behind to gather files. He didn’t leave. I could feel him watching me, like a presence at the back of my neck.

“Lavender,” he said my name. Rare. He almost never used it. I froze, clutching a folder to my chest. “Yes?” He leaned against the table, arms crossed, voice unreadable. “You don’t approve of me.” It wasn’t a question. And it wasn’t entirely wrong. I blinked. “Excuse me?”

His gaze pinned me. “You’ve worked for me two years. You’re efficient. Sharp. Loyal. But your face gives you away. Every time I walk in, it’s like you’re bracing for a tsunami.” I swallowed. “With all due respect, Mr. Robinson, you are kind of a tsunami.” To my horror, the corner of his mouth curved. Just slightly. Not quite a smile, more like the ghost of one. “You’re honest. That’s dangerous.”

“I’m just a secretary,” I muttered, suddenly needing to escape the room. But he pushed off the table and closed the distance between us in two long strides. “You’re not just anything, Lavender.” My breath caught. His voice had dipped, a subtle warning and something else I didn’t have the courage to name.

I didn’t realize how close he was until I could smell the faintest trace of his cologne, expensive, subtle, addictive. My heart tripped. And just as quickly, he turned away. “Send me the draft before three,” he said, already walking out. “And Lavender…”

I looked up. “Don’t let the others dull your edges. I hired you for your spine.” The door clicked shut behind him. I stood there, folder still in hand, pulse racing, mind spinning.What the hell just happened?