ALEXANDER'S POV
People think power makes life easier, but it doesn't.
It just means you have more to lose if you slip for even a second, and yesterday I felt like I was one second away from losing my patience completely.
My mind should be on numbers, contracts, meetings lined up for the week, but instead it keeps circling back to that damn gala.
To the chaos.
To her.
Gina.
I still can't decide if she's an inconvenience or a disturbance I can't afford.
All I know is that she has taken up more of my thoughts in the last twenty-four hours than anyone has in years, and I hate that I notice it.
I'm closing up files when the door opens.
"Sir," she says quietly, stopping in front of my desk. "I'm done for the day. I'll be heading out now."
Heading out.
Right.
As if I didn't know exactly who she's going to meet.
I lean back in my chair, letting my irritation sharpen just a little. "Going somewhere specific?"
She hesitates.
The slight pause is enough to confirm what I already know.
Noah Fontaine.
I saw them talking earlier, and the look on Noah's face was too familiar—hopeful, soft, the way a man looks at a woman he still wants.
I didn't like that look.
I didn't like him.
I didn't like the way she smiled back, even if it was small, even if she tried to hide it.
But why?
I still couldn't give myself the answer.
I had my team pull his background before she even walked back to her desk.
It was pathetic.
I don't bother hiding my disdain as I say, "Your little reunion earlier was interesting."
Her eyes narrow. "Nothing happened."
"Hmm." I fold my arms. "Noah Fontaine. Your taste in men is… underwhelming."
Her expression tightens. "You have no right to comment on that."
"I do," I say calmly. "Because you work for me."
"That has nothing to do with my personal life."
"It has everything to do with it." My voice stays even, controlled. "As I've said… anything connected to you is connected to me."
Her frustration flashes across her face, quick and bright.
She breathes out slowly, grounding herself like she's trying not to snap. "I'm leaving now. If that's all—"
"It's not."
She blinks. "Sir?"
"You're coming with me."
Her confusion hits instantly. "Why?"
"Because I said so."
"I have my own plans."
"No," I correct. "You think you do."
She stiffens, but I stand, buttoning my jacket as if the matter is already settled. "Let's go."
"I'm not—"
I stop walking and turn to face her fully. "Gina."
My voice drops low enough to pin her in place. "If you want to keep your job, I highly suggest you follow me."
Her breath stutters.
The fight drains just enough for silence to take hold.
I don't enjoy threatening her.
I don't even enjoy the power imbalance—it feels wrong on my tongue.
But I just couldn't help it.
She lowers her eyes, shoulders tense, and follows me out of the office without another word.
Good.
At least she listens when it matters.
The car ride is quiet.
She presses herself against the door, arms crossed, annoyed but obedient. I'm aware of her every shift, every breath.
I don't like it.
I shouldn't care.
But I do.
When we reach the mansion, her eyes widen slightly, just for a moment.
She tries to hide it, but I catch it.
People like her don't get to see this world up close.
People like her stay on the outside looking in.
Inside, the staff greet me with nods before turning curious eyes toward her.
She grips her bag a little tighter, adjusting her posture like she's preparing for a fight she wasn't trained for.
I slow my steps so she doesn't lag behind.
"We're meeting my grandmother," I say.
She looks up sharply. "Why?"
"She asked to see me tonight."
"And what does that have to do with me?"
"You'll be present. So listen carefully." I stop in the hallway. "There are rules."
"Rules?"
"Yes." I straighten my cuff. "One—speak when spoken to. Two—don't volunteer unnecessary information. Three—don't argue with her. Four—stay polite no matter what she says. Five—never contradict me in front of her."
Her eyebrows lift. "She sounds… difficult."
"Difficult?" I almost laugh. "She's impossible."
She absorbs this, nodding slowly. "And what about Valerie?" she asks. "Does she… know your grandmother?"
"She tried." My tone turns cold. "Grandmother dismissed her in under three minutes."
"And you think she'll like me better?" Gina challenges.
"She doesn't like anyone."
She lets out a small breath. "Great."
Before I can add anything, the door to the sitting room opens.
And my grandmother steps out.
She's tiny, sharp-eyed, wrapped in dignity and judgment like they're part of her bloodline.
Normally, her stare cuts through any woman I bring near her.
Usually, they wilt immediately.
But not tonight.
Because the moment her gaze lands on Gina, her entire expression softens.
"Oh," Grandmother says warmly. "You must be his new assistant, Gina."
Gina freezes. "Uh… yes, ma'am."
My grandmother smiles—a real one, not the polite kind she uses for society. "Come here, dear."
Then she hugs her.
Actually hugs her.
I nearly choked
Gina stands stiff for a second before slowly hugging back, confusion all over her face.
My grandmother pulls away, holding her at arm's length.
"You're lovely," she says.
I blink.
Lovely?
She has never called anyone that.
Not once.
Grandmother guides us into the living room, motioning for Gina to sit beside her on the couch.
I almost protest—I've never sat on that couch.
Only she has.
But she waves me off like I'm background noise.
The evening unfolds in the strangest way.
Grandmother asks Gina questions.
Real questions.
About her job.
Her family.
Her life.
And Gina answers honestly, openly, without trying to impress her.
She laughs at something Gina says. She gently touches her hand while listening. She corrects her posture once, but even that is done with softness I didn't know she possessed.
Meanwhile I sit there with a tightening jaw, watching them bond like they've known each other for years.
I hate how easily my grandmother approves of her.
I hate how Gina doesn't even realize she's passing tests no one has ever passed.
I hate how something in my chest pulls every time she smiles at my grandmother.
This is why I don't mix worlds.
This is why I don't bring people here.
This is why I keep distance between myself and anything that feels too close.
She'll use this.
She'll twist it into advantage.
They all do.
Every woman who ever stepped foot near my family name wanted something—they wanted status, money, security, attention, a piece of the world I own.
And maybe Gina is pretending now.
Maybe she's waiting.
Maybe she's smarter at hiding it.
My grandmother asks another question, smiling at her like she's found a new favorite person.
Then, out of absolutely nowhere, she says:
"So… are you two dating?"
The question snaps through the room like a whip.
Gina's eyes go wide.
My breath stops.
Grandmother leans forward expectantly. "Because if you are," she continues with a cheerful sigh, "I'm ready for grandkids."
My heart stumbles.
Gina chokes on her drink.