Chapter 206
Madison
My phone buzzed again, the screen lighting up the dim kitchen with its soft blue glow.
Alexander: Leave room for dessert. The tiramisu is worth every calorie.
I smiled, pulling out the dessert container. How did he know I was saving it for last?
Me: Are you watching me somehow?
Alexander: Just making an educated guess. You strike me as someone who saves the best for last.
The accuracy of his assessment was unnerving. I took a bite of the tiramisu, closing my eyes as the flavors of espresso, mascarpone, and cocoa melded on my tongue.
Me: You’re right. It’s divine.
Alexander: I’m always right. Remember that.
The arrogance in his text made me snort. Typical Alexander.
Me: Always? That seems statistically improbable.
Alexander: Test me tomorrow.
The challenge in his words sent a thrill through me. I finished the tiramisu slowly, savoring each bite while contemplating how to respond. Before I could decide, another text came through.
Alexander: What are you wearing?
The question caught me off guard. I glanced down at my tank top and shorts.
Me: Seriously? That’s the oldest line in the book.
Alexander: Humor me.
Me: Tank top and shorts. Nothing fancy.
Alexander: Color?
I rolled my eyes.
Me: Blue tank. Gray shorts.
Alexander: Take a picture.
My heart skipped a beat.
Me: What happened to leaving something to the imagination?
Alexander: I have an excellent imagination. But sometimes, I prefer reality.
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Me: I don’t think that’s a good idea.
Alexander: Fair enough. Some other time, perhaps.
The fact that he backed off so easily surprised me. I’d expected more persistence.
Me: Thank you for understanding. And for dinner.
Alexander: My pleasure. Sweet dreams, Madison.
I cleaned up the containers, storing the leftover garlic bread in my refrigerator.
As I got ready for bed, I couldn’t help but wonder what Alexander had meant by “demanding” plans for tomorrow. The anticipation kept me awake longer than I’d intended, my mind racing with possibilities.
I woke to the persistent buzzing of my alarm, blinking away the remnants of a dream that had something to do with Alexander and blueprints.
The morning light filtered through my curtains as I stretched, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nervousness. Today was my first official day as project manager.
After a quick shower, I stood in front of my closet, surveying the new wardrobe Alexander had purchased. The sleek, high–end pieces still had their tags attached as if they were waiting for this exact moment.
I selected the navy dress with its matching blazer, remembering how Alexander’s eyes had darkened when I’d tried it on. The fabric hugged my curves perfectly, making me look professional yet feminine. I paired it with nude heels and minimal jewelry, wanting to keep the focus on my competence rather than my appearance.
As I applied my makeup, I gave myself a pep talk in the mirror.
“You can do this,” I whispered, carefully applying mascara. “You’ve earned this position. Don’t let anyone make you think otherwise.”
My phone buzzed with a text from Alexander.
Alexander: First day as project manager. Don’t be late.
I rolled my eyes. As if I would be late today of all days.
Me: Already dressed and heading out the door.
I grabbed my purse and a travel mug of coffee.
The cab wove through morning traffic, and I used the time to mentally prepare for the day ahead.
I checked my notes on my phone, reviewing the team members‘ names and roles. Victor Harmon’s skeptical face flashed in my mind, along with Lucas Garcia’s barely concealed disdain. I’d prove them wrong, all of them.
When the cab pulled up to Knight Industries, I paid the driver and stepped out, smoothing my navy dress. The building towered above me, glass and steel reaching toward the clouds.
The elevator ride was quick, and I walked toward my new office, anticipation bubbling in my chest. I half- expected balloons or a welcome sign, something to mark this momentous occasion.
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Instead, I found the same empty space as yesterday. The desks waiting for team members who hadn’t arrived. yet. My office was pristine and untouched at the far end.
“Huh,” I muttered, feeling oddly deflated. “No welcome party.”
I walked to my office door, running my fingers over the nameplate that had appeared overnight: MADISON HARPER, PROJECT MANAGER.
A smile tugged at my lips despite the anticlimactic arrival. This was real. This was happening.
I pushed open the door and stepped inside. The morning light streamed through the windows, illuminating the empty desk and bare walls. My desk. My walls. My office.
“Time to make it mine,” I said to myself, setting down my purse and pulling out the few personal items I’d brought: a small potted succulent, a framed photo of my mother, and a leather–bound notebook Alexander had given me months ago.
I arranged them carefully on the desk, then sat in the ergonomic chair, testing its comfort as I swiveled to face the window. The view wasn’t as spectacular as Alexander’s, but it was mine.
My phone buzzed with a text from Alexander: Where are you?
I frowned.
Me: In my new office. Where else would I be?
His response came immediately.
Alexander: You’re still my PA. My coffee doesn’t deliver itself.
I stared at the screen, momentarily stunned. Then I burst out laughing. Of course. Nothing had changed- everything had changed.
Me: On my way, Mr. Knight.
I grabbed my tablet and headed for the elevator.
Ten floors up, I was back in familiar territory, making Alexander’s coffee exactly how he liked it. I knocked on his office door, balancing the coffee cup and my tablet.
“Enter,” came his commanding voice.
I pushed open the door to find him on the phone, his back to me as he gazed out the window. I placed the coffee on his desk and turned to leave.
“Wait,” he said, covering the mouthpiece. “My schedule for today?”
I paused, tablet in hand. “I’ll wait until you finish your call, then go over your schedule.”
Alexander nodded, turning back to his conversation while I settled into one of the chairs across from his desk. I took the opportunity to check my emails, responding to a few urgent ones while half–listening to his call. Something about investment projections that didn’t sound particularly promising.
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Chapter 207
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
