Chapter 324
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Chapter 330
Madison
Alexander handed his keys to the valet with practiced ease, then turned to me, extending his arm. “Shall we p>
I hesitated for a fraction of a second before placing my hand on his forearm. His muscles tensed beneath my touch.
“You look nervous, Ms. Harper,” he murmured as we approached the entrance. “I don’t bite p>
“Recent evidence suggests otherwise,” I said under my breath.
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Only when asked p>
Heat rushed to my cheeks at the memory of the last time I’d “asked p>
The maître d‘ recognized Alexander immediately. “Mr. Knight, welcome back. Your table is ready p>
We were whisked through the restaurant to a secluded corner table partially screened by an elegant partition. Privacy at its finest and most expensive.
“Wine?” Alexander asked after we settled.
“Yes, please.” Maybe alcohol would help me navigate whatever game he was playing.
Alexander ordered a bottle of Château Margaux without consulting the wine list. The sommelier nodded approvingly and disappeared.
I fidgeted with my napkin. “So p>
“So,” he echoed, studying me with those penetrating blue eyes.
“Are you going to tell me what this is about? Because if it’s another business proposition, I’d prefer we get straight to it p>
Alexander leaned back in his chair. “Not everything is business, Ms. Harper p>
“With you, it usually is p>
“Usually, yes.” He paused as the sommelier returned with the wine. After the ritual of tasting and approving, our glasses were filled, and we were left alone again.
I took a sip. The wine was exquisite, rich, and complex, but I wasn’t here to appreciate his taste in vintages.
“Mr. Knight, why am I here instead of Katherine p>
He picked up his glass, swirling the ruby liquid. “Katherine had other commitments p>
“So I’m the backup plan? How flattering p>
“You’re never a backup plan p>
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Chapter 330
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Before I could respond, the waiter appeared to take our orders. Alexander didn’t consult the menu, ordering for both of us with confident precision.
When we were alone again, I raised an eyebrow. “Ordering for me now p>
“Chef’s tasting menu. Six courses of his best offerings. I thought you might enjoy it p>
“And if I’m allergic to shellfish p>
“You’re not.” He took another sip of wine. “You had the lobster bisque at the Watson luncheon last month and commented that it was the best you’d ever tasted p>
My eyes widened slightly. “You remembered that p>
“I remember everything about you, Ms. Harper p>
The intensity in his gaze made me reach for my wine glass. “Why am I really here, Mr. Knight p>
He set his glass down carefully. “You’ve been working exceptionally hard lately. The Manhattan Project is ahead of schedule, under budget, and gaining positive attention. I thought a small celebration was in order p>
I blinked in surprise. “A celebration p>
“Is that so hard to believe?” Alexander asked, his piercing blue eyes studying me over the rim of his wine glass.
“No,” I said, lifting my glass and taking another sip. The rich wine warmed my throat as I swallowed, giving me a moment to compose my thoughts.
Inside, a flutter of happiness warmed my chest, but it quickly gave way to a hollow ache. This was exactly what I’d asked for: professional interaction, nothing more. There was no arrangement, no complications. Just a boss and employee celebrating a project milestone. The lines were clearly drawn, and the boundaries were firmly in place.
I had to forget about our past. The nights in his penthouse. The way his hands felt on my skin. The sound of his voice, low and commanding, in my ear. That was over now. I needed to focus on my work, on building my career, and on taking care of my mother.
“The Manhattan project is progressing exceptionally well,” Alexander said, his tone businesslike. “The investors are impressed with your management style p>
“Thank you, Mr. Knight.” I kept my voice neutral and professional.
“The east side rezoning was particularly well–handled,” he continued. “Not many project managers could have navigated that bureaucratic nightmare so efficiently p>
“I had excellent support from the legal team p>
A waiter appeared with our first course, a delicate composition of raw tuna, caviar, and crisp vegetables. It looked like a work of art.
“Chef Eric’s signature appetizer,” Alexander explained. “Try it with the wine p>
Chapter 330
I followed his suggestion, and the flavors complemented each other perfectly. “It’s incredible p>
“I knew you’d appreciate it.
We ate silently for a few moments, the restaurant’s ambient noise filling the space between us.
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The waiter cleared our plates and brought the second course, a perfectly seared scallop in a saffron sauce.
“This wine pairs particularly well with the scallop,” Alexander remarked. “The minerality balances the richness of the sauce p>
“You know a lot about wine pairings p>
“I make it a point to learn about the things I enjoy.” His eyes met mine over the rim of his glass, and for a second, I could have sworn there was a double meaning in his words.
But no, I was imagining things. Seeing subtext where there was none.
Four more exquisite courses followed, each more impressive than the last. Throughout dinner, our conversation remained strictly professional. Project timelines. Contractor issues. Market projections. All discussed with polite interest, appropriate nods, and not a hint of the passion that had once burned between us.
It was exactly what I’d asked for. So why did it feel so empty?
By the time dessert arrived, a chocolate soufflé with Grand Marnier sauce, I’d almost convinced myself that this new professional relationship could work. We could move past the arrangement, past the complications, and function effectively as boss and employee.
Almost.
The problem was that Alexander looked absolutely devastating in his tuxedo. The way the fabric stretched across his broad shoulders. The precise knot of his black tie against the crisp white shirt. The subtle scent of his cologne that reached me whenever he leaned forward.
And sometimes, when he thought I wasn’t looking, I caught him watching me with an intensity that had nothing to do with project management.
“I should be getting home,” I said after the last of the soufflé had disappeared. “It’s getting late, and my mother will worry p>
“Of course.” Alexander signaled for the check, which appeared instantly. He signed it without looking at the total, a casual reminder of the vast wealth disparity between us.
Chapter
Sara Lili
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.