Chains of Desire

chapter 6

Isla

The hum of the office was constant, like an orchestra of clacking keyboards and muffled phone calls. Papers shuffled, printers whirred, and the faint smell of fresh coffee floated through the air. I sat at my desk, staring at the screen, though my mind was miles away.

I still couldn’t shake the image of him. The man I saw this morning. Sharp lines of his jaw, the kind of presence that made time stutter. I thought I’d imagined the weight of his gaze, but no—he was real. Very real.

“Islaaa,” a sing-song voice broke through my thoughts. I turned to find Lila, my best friend, grinning like she’d just won the lottery. She dropped into the chair beside me, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You will not believe this,” she whispered dramatically, leaning in.

I raised a brow. “With that face, it better be good.”

“It’s beyond good.” She giggled, pulling out her phone. “The Winter Gala. He’s going to be there.”

My heart skipped. “He?”

Lila nodded like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Alexander Kingston. The Alexander Kingston. CEO of Kingston Corporation. Richest man alive. The kind of man girls dream about marrying, though he’s too untouchable for anyone.”

I froze. That name. That face. The same man I had seen this morning. My stomach flipped, a nervous laugh slipping out before I could stop it.

“I… think I saw him,” I admitted quietly.

Lila’s eyes widened so much I thought they might fall out. “You what?”

“I mean, it was fast, but… it was him. I swear. I was on my way here, and he—”

“Girl, shut up,” she hissed, smacking my arm playfully. “Do you even realize what that means? You crossed paths with Alexander Kingston and you didn’t tell me immediately? Do you know how many women would sell their souls just to breathe the same air as him?”

I laughed, though heat crept up my neck. “You’re being dramatic.”

“No, I’m being realistic. And you better not miss that Gala. If you do, I’ll drag you there myself.”

Before I could answer, two other girls from the office leaned closer, clearly eavesdropping.

“Did you say Alexander Kingston?” one whispered. “Oh my God, he’s like… a legend.”

“They say he doesn’t even smile,” the other chimed in. “I heard if he walks into a room, everyone goes silent. Just like that.” She snapped her fingers for effect.

I tried to focus on the numbers glowing on my screen, but my thoughts betrayed me. The memory of his piercing gaze, the chill that had run down my spine. There was something magnetic, terrifying, and irresistible about him.

And now… I was going to see him again.

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Alexander

The world thought I was made of steel. To them, I was the untouchable king who built an empire out of nothing. But the truth was more complicated.

The office was quiet now, emptied after another day of work. I leaned back in the leather chair in my private suite, the skyline glowing like fireflies outside the glass wall. My tie was loosened, the first hint of vulnerability I allowed myself when no one was watching.

A tumbler of whiskey sat untouched on the desk. I didn’t drink often, but sometimes, when the silence grew too heavy, I poured a glass just to feel human.

I reached for the remote and turned on the large screen mounted on the wall. News channels. Stock markets. Reports of my company, my name, my wealth. The world loved to speculate about me—how much I was worth, who I might be dating, why I never stayed too long at public events.

They never guessed the truth.

That I hated the spotlight. That I despised the fake smiles and empty conversations. That beneath the armor of wealth and power, there was still a man who sometimes wondered what it would feel like to be… normal.

But normal was a luxury I could never afford.

A knock on the door broke my thoughts. “Come in,” I said.

Claire entered, holding a folder. “Your schedule for the Gala, sir. Security has been doubled. The press is already buzzing about your attendance.”

I took the folder, flipping it open. Dozens of names, companies, politicians, heirs and heiresses. My lips pressed into a thin line.

“Same faces, same parasites,” I muttered.

Claire cleared her throat softly. “People want to see you, Mr. Kingston. You’re… the centerpiece.”

I hated that word. Still, I nodded. “Fine. Prepare everything.”

When she left, I closed the folder and let the silence swallow me again. My reflection in the glass wall stared back—sharp suit, hard eyes, a man carved by ambition.

And yet… for the first time in years, I felt a flicker of something unusual. A tension in my chest, a whisper in the back of my mind.

As though, at that Gala, something—or someone—was waiting.

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