The knock on Zarah's office door was sharp, deliberate, and impossible to ignore. Her pen hovered over the spreadsheet, the numbers swimming before her eyes as adrenaline surged.
"Come in," she said, forcing calm into her voice, though her heart betrayed her, drumming against her ribcage like a warning drum.
Alexandar Sinclair stepped inside first, as if the air itself bent around him. Hands in his pockets, posture relaxed but commanding, he moved with an ease that demanded attention. Sarah followed, clipboard in hand, composed, meticulous—the perfect shadow to him. Liam trailed behind, looking like he'd been thrust into a hurricane, muttering things under his breath Zarah didn't catch.
"Zarah," he said, voice smooth enough to glide across her skin. "Are you free for lunch?"
She blinked. Once. Twice.
"...Me?" she asked stupidly.
A corner of his mouth twitched. "Unless you have a secret twin doing all this work." He crossed the room, stopping beside her desk. "You've made good progress. I want to discuss it—with you. Outside the office."
Outside.
The word hit her like a spark.
Before she could process, Liam stepped in behind him, holding a tablet and trying not to look like he was eavesdropping.
"Sir, I—"
"Liam, you'll join us too— you'll keep Sarah company," Alexander added without looking back.
Liam's mouth fell open. "Me? Lunch? With—?"
"Yes," Alexander replied simply.
Zarah felt her heartbeat climb into her throat. Lunch? With the CEO? Publicly?
"Sir," she began carefully, "I still have to finish highlighting the discrepancies and—"
"I'm aware," he cut in softly, not unkindly. "Which is why lunch is necessary. You've uncovered something... significant."
Her chest tightened. "The missing funds?"
He nodded once, eyes narrowing—a storm brewing behind them. "Dalton was stealing. More than I initially thought. And your breakdown caught patterns our auditors somehow missed." His gaze softened a fraction. "You did good work, Zarah."
Her breath stuttered. Praise from him felt... dangerous. Addictive. Too warm.
"But I don't want to interrupt your flow." He leaned a little closer, voice dropping to something private. "So I'll ask one more time."
Her pulse skittered.
"Have lunch with me."
Even Liam froze like the air had been sucked out of the room.
Zarah swallowed, her voice a whisper. "Okay."
Alexander's eyes glimmered with something unreadable. "Good. Let's go."
The walk down the hallway felt impossibly long. Every head turned, every whisper threaded through the glass walls:
"Did you see who's with him?"
"Zarah! That's... wow."
"She's walking beside him like she owns the place."
"she was only appointed and then promoted just yesterday"
"Why's the CEO walking with her?"
"Liam too? Wait—what's happening?"
"I've never seen Mr. Sinclair leave for lunch with anyone."
"Did she do something?"
"No, she must be in trouble."
"Trouble? She's between them like she belongs there—look at her face."
"She's glowing."
"He never walks beside anyone."
"Is she... special?"
Zarah forced herself to keep her stride measured, her back straight, even as Liam muttered, "They're literally staring at us..." behind her. Alex, as usual, moved as if all the attention were irrelevant, occasionally flicking his gaze to her, soft yet calculating, light but heavy all at once.
By the time they reached the sleek black car waiting outside, Alex was already holding the door. The faint brush of his hand as she stepped inside sent a shiver down her spine. Sarah climbed in beside him, composed and alert, clipboard balanced like a shield, eyes forward. Liam squeezed in behind Zarah, muttering something that sounded like a prayer for survival.
The car glided through the city streets, the engine a low, steady hum. Alex reclined slightly, arm resting along the door, his gaze occasionally flicking to her. The air between them was charged, audacious, teasing—a subtle game played in glances and half-smiles.
"So," he began, voice smooth, deliberate, "your first assignment under fire. How's the adrenaline treating you?"
"Mostly... healthy terror, I'd say," Zarah replied, fingers curling nervously in her lap.
"it's your second day and you're stressing yourself already— that's funny"
"funny ?? i'm okay with it" she replied giving a smile.
He chuckled—a low, warm sound that vibrated through the car. "Good. Healthy terror keeps the mind sharp. Fire keeps the soul awake."
Liam groaned behind her. "He's literally flirting with you, right? Please tell me he's flirting with you. I'm not losing it."
"I... I'm not sure," Zarah admitted, heat creeping up her neck.
Alex's eyes flicked to Liam in the rearview mirror, a faint, playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Merely making conversation. Engaging with the brilliant mind beside me."
Zarah snorted, muffling a laugh. Liam sputtered.
The tension was audacious and playful, each glance a nudge along a knife-edge, every word a small spark she couldn't ignore.
"Fire keeps the soul awake," Zarah whispered under her breath, and Alex tilted his head slightly, as if hearing her, a faint smile ghosting his lips.
The car stopped smoothly outside the restaurant, a discreet but luxurious corner of the city. Alex opened the door, the faintest brush of air as he gestured for her to step out sending another shiver down her spine. Sarah remained beside him, clipboard poised, eyes alert. Liam clambered out behind Zarah, muttering under his breath.
Inside, the restaurant was warm, opulent, private. Chandeliers scattered golden light across polished wood. Soft music floated, mingling with the gentle clink of cutlery. Couples leaned into one another, the space intimate, hushed, while Zarah sank into her chair, aware of Liam practically vibrating beside her and Sarah composing herself across the table from Alex.
Alex leaned back, gaze sliding to her. "Not hungry?"
"Trying to figure out why we're here," Zarah replied carefully.
"For lunch," he said simply.
"Here?" she asked, gesturing at the luxurious surroundings.
"It's where I eat," he said with casual ease. "And I wanted you to join me."
Liam choked on his water. Sarah raised an eyebrow, silently instructing him to calm down. Zarah tried to keep her attention on the table, though Alex's presence made it impossible.
"You look... good today," he said, low, deliberate.
"Better?" she asked nervously.
"Yes. Less... raw. Still fiery, but controlled. It suits you."
Liam muttered something under his breath, "Fire... controlled... are we in a movie?"
Alex ignored him. "By the way, your report this morning—the Marshall project—impressive."
"You... read it?" Zarah asked, pulse jumping.
"I always read your work. It deserves it."
Liam's jaw dropped; Zarah shot him a warning glance. He just grinned sheepishly.
"So," Zarah said, leaning forward, "your full name is Alexander Sinclair?"
He reclined, slow and deliberate, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Alexander Rhys Sinclair. But you should call me Alex."
Liam's eyes nearly popped out of his head. Zarah tasted the name, carrying weight she hadn't expected.
Conversation flowed, playful, charged, snappy. Alex leaned closer across the table at moments, teasing, testing, pushing just enough to make her pulse quicken. When the topic shifted, Zarah spoke quickly, carefully:
"Dalton didn't just mismanage. He blacklisted clients, took credit for proposals, spread rumors, manipulated payroll... he was dangerous, and I caught everything."
Alex's expression sharpened. Not threatening, but predatory in its clarity, his mind piecing together every detail. "He's done," he said, tone flat, final. "i had my attorney serve him a court notice, like i'd let him get away with it"
"Yes, sir," Liam muttered in the background.
Zarah realized slowly that her pulse wasn't racing from praise—it was Alex. Every glance, every word, deliberate, leaving an impression, commanding attention. Lunch was not casual; it was a test.
By dessert, the private corner seemed to shrink around them. Alex leaned back, observing her, faint smile playing on his lips. The air was taut, electric. And then—the flashes started. Click, click, click. Voices shouted.
"Mr. Sinclair! Who is she?"
"Are you two together?"
Liam froze, panic etched into his features. Zarah's stomach dropped.
Alex's hand brushed near her chair, protective, calm. "Ignore them," he murmured.
The awareness hit Zarah fully—lunch had not been just lunch. Alex wasn't flirting for fun. Every glance, every word, every movement was deliberate, audacious, meant to impress her and make the world aware.
By the time they left, Zarah's heart pounded. Cameras flashed relentlessly, whispers chasing them through the streets. Liam muttered incoherently, Sarah stayed poised, and Zarah felt it: the storm wasn't over. It had just begun. She had crossed a threshold.
And in the eye of that storm, Alexander Sinclair's gaze lingered—not just professional, not just playful, but intense, claiming, undeniable.
She knew, then, that she wasn't just caught in his orbit. She was fully in it.