MEETING HIM

chapter fourteen: A Game of Control

Alex's POV

Alex paced around the spacious, darkened office, the weight of Natacha's silence pressing heavily on his chest. It had been over a week since their last encounter—long enough for him to begin questioning his own patience, something that had never been in short supply. He hated the feeling of being ignored, of being relegated to a place in her life that felt increasingly distant, like a ghost haunting the periphery of her world.

His thoughts spiraled out of control, images of her flashed in his mind—her soft eyes, her hesitant smile, the way her body had responded to his touch that first night. She had been his, his in a way that no other woman ever could be, and yet, she was slipping from his grasp. The control he’d so carefully built over the years—over his business, his life, everything—seemed to be disintegrating every time she refused his calls, every time she pushed him away.

He stopped pacing, his eyes narrowing as he stared out at the city skyline. He could see the lights from the skyscrapers below, a reflection of the world that was his, the world he had conquered with ruthless precision. But with Natacha, things were different. She was a force he couldn’t quite master, a challenge that both frustrated and intrigued him.

Alex clenched his fists at his sides. The plan to draw her back into his orbit was taking longer than expected, and every second that passed made him more desperate. He knew he had to act soon, before the emotional distance between them became insurmountable. The idea of losing her—of truly losing her—terrified him more than he cared to admit. It was more than just control. It was... vulnerability. A feeling he’d long since buried, something he wasn’t prepared to confront.

He took a slow, deliberate breath and reached for his phone. Dialing the number he had memorized without needing to think, he waited as the phone rang, his mind already racing ahead to the next step in his plan.

"Yes, Mr. Blackwell?" came the calm, professional voice of his right-hand man.

"Update," Alex demanded, his voice cold.

"Everything's on track, as you instructed. We’ve been keeping tabs on her, ensuring there are no disruptions in her daily routine. But... I’ve noticed something," the man hesitated, sensing the shift in Alex's tone.

"What is it?" Alex asked, his patience thinning.

"She’s withdrawn from everyone. Eric, her friends... even her family. I can tell she’s... struggling," the man explained. "But what’s more troubling, is that she’s becoming more attached to someone else. Mr. Delacroix."

Alex’s grip on the phone tightened, his blood running cold. Mr. Delacroix—his father’s boyfriend. Natacha had always been close to him, and Alex had known that their bond was far more than casual. But to hear that she was spending more time with him, confiding in him, it set something dark and possessive stirring in his gut.

"I need you to find out more," Alex ordered sharply. "How close are they? What’s going on?"

"Of course, sir. I’ll make sure we gather everything," came the reply.

Alex ended the call, his mind racing. He couldn’t afford to lose Natacha, not to anyone, and certainly not to the man who had been a constant in her life. The man who was as much a part of her family as her father. If Delacroix was stepping into a role that Alex had tried to claim for himself, that was a problem. A serious one.

Alex turned to the sleek, modern desk behind him, his eyes lingering on the paperwork scattered across the surface. His thoughts were fragmented, and his mind wouldn’t stop racing. He needed to act now, to get to her before it was too late.

It was time to see her again.

---

The next morning, Alex began orchestrating the encounter. He made sure that he would "accidentally" run into her, as though it was just a matter of coincidence. No, it had to feel natural—like the universe was aligning to bring them back together, as though they had never been apart. The problem, however, was that Alex wasn’t particularly skilled at the art of subtlety. He wasn’t used to doing anything by accident.

But he needed this. Natacha had been slipping through his fingers, and it was clear to him that if he didn’t regain control, if he didn’t remind her of what they shared, she would disappear from his life entirely. His mind flickered to the thought of losing her to Mr. Delacroix, and a wave of irrational jealousy surged through him.

Alex had always been a man of control—control over his empire, his body, and his desires. But with Natacha, there was a vulnerability that gnawed at him. He didn't like it. Not at all. But he had to admit it was something he couldn’t ignore, no matter how hard he tried. And now, he had to fix it.

By mid-afternoon, he had arranged the meeting. He knew exactly where she would be, and when, and it was all too easy to set the scene. Natacha was predictable in some ways—her routine was rigid, structured, and easy to manipulate. He made sure to be there, in that exact spot, the moment she would arrive. It was an “accidental” meeting, but it was far from spontaneous.

The sun had begun to dip low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the streets. He was already standing by the café’s entrance when she walked into view. His heart beat just a little faster as he watched her approach, a rush of emotions flooding through him. She was more beautiful than he remembered—her hair falling in soft waves around her face, the confidence in her stride, and that familiar, uncertain gaze.

Her eyes locked onto his, and for a split second, she froze. Then, her expression shifted—guarded, like a wall had gone up between them. She hesitated, a battle of emotions playing out in her eyes, before she stepped forward.

"Alex," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Hello, Natacha," Alex replied smoothly, his voice low and steady, the practiced calmness masking the urgency inside him.

She didn’t smile, didn’t move any closer, but she didn’t leave either. The air between them crackled with tension.

"I wasn’t expecting to see you here," she said, her gaze flicking away for a brief moment. "Is this... a coincidence?"

Alex smirked, stepping closer to her. "I’m afraid not. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you, but you’ve been... distant. I thought I’d take a more direct approach."

Natacha’s lips pressed together, her eyes flickering with something like regret. "I’ve been busy, Alex. I’ve had a lot on my mind."

"I’m sure you have," Alex said softly, his tone unreadable. "But I’m also sure you haven’t forgotten the way we were. That night, Natacha. You can’t tell me you’ve forgotten that."

Her breath caught, and she looked away, her arms folding across her chest as if trying to protect herself from the weight of his words. He could see it—her resistance, her reluctance, and yet there was something in the way she looked at him that told him she hadn’t moved on. Not really. Not completely.

"Stop trying to manipulate me," she said, her voice sharp, but there was an undercurrent of vulnerability that she couldn’t hide. "You can’t just control me like you always have, Alex."

He reached out, lightly touching her arm, feeling the electricity of her skin beneath his fingertips. She stiffened, but didn’t pull away. "I’m not trying to control you, Natacha," he said quietly, his voice a low murmur. "I’m just reminding you of what we shared. You’ve been pulling away from me, but I know you still want me. You can’t pretend like nothing happened between us."

Her eyes flickered with uncertainty, and he saw the hesitation. The walls she’d put up were beginning to crumble, even if just a little.

"You don’t get to just... waltz back into my life and expect everything to be the same," she whispered, her gaze darting toward the entrance of the café, like she was looking for an escape. "Things have changed."

Alex could see that she was still struggling with her emotions. And he understood that. She was conflicted—torn between her feelings for him, her guilt, and her attempt to distance herself from everything they’d shared. He wasn’t going to let her go, not without a fight.

"Then let me help you with that," he said, his voice soft, but there was steel beneath it. "Let me help you figure things out, Natacha. Together."

For a long moment, they stood there, just looking at each other. The world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them. In that instant, Alex knew that he was never going to let her go. He would have her. Even if it meant pushing her to the edge.

Natacha opened her mouth, as if to say something, but the words never came. Instead, she turned away, walking back toward the entrance of the café.

"Goodbye, Alex," she called over her shoulder.

The sound of her footsteps echoed in his chest, but Alex didn't chase her. Not yet. He knew it