Chapter 17

Alexander’s POV.

I froze, my blood running cold.

Brandon.

He was leaning casually against the brick wall outside Eli’s building, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes locked on me like he had been standing there for a while. His eye were cold… they were usually cold but this one staring at me was worse.

I swallowed hard, my brain racing. “Mr Cole, listen—”

He raised a hand, silencing me instantly, like he was dismissing some low-level employee during a board meeting.

“No. You’ll listen.” His tone was ice.

I shut my mouth, instinctively straightening, my heart hammering in my chest.

“You’re here on my expense, Alex. On a business trip I approved. Paid for.” His gaze was hard, unflinching. “And instead of focusing on why we’re here, you thought it was appropriate to sneak off and get… distracted.”

I clenched my jaw, but didn’t dare interrupt.

He took a slow step closer, his voice dropping just enough to send a chill down my spine. “Did you for one second think before letting him take you to his place? What if he was some fucking trafficker? Do you have any idea how insane I was yesterday looking for you?”.

“Only to call you and some fucking omega picked my call?”.

Brandon’s jaw clenched tight, his breathing heavier now.

“Do you have any idea how frustrating that was, Alex?” he hissed. “Do you have any fucking clue how it felt hearing someone else pick up your phone when you’re supposed to be here for me?”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. My throat was dry, my brain spinning. One time was clear, he is fucking angry. He never calls me Alex…. Even when I make his coffee wrong.

What I don’t understand is why he’s so angry I left with someone else. Yes, indeed I am on a business trip with him. But even on a trip we have work hours and closing hours, we weren’t exactly working when I was… well having fun.

“Mr Cole, I apologize if I have made you worried about my wellbeing. But the last time I checked, I am also free to live my life outside of work. The meetings and everything was over before I left”.

I watched as he exhaled, long and controlled, his jaw tightening.

“You really don’t get it, do you?” he whispered.

I swallowed, my back still pressed hard against the cold wall behind me. “Get what?”

His hands slipped into his pockets, voice steady, cold, detached. “Forget I said that.”

I blinked. “What?”

“This conversation is over.” His voice was smooth now, perfectly measured like we were back in the boardroom. “You’re my employee. And I let my personal frustration cloud my judgment. That won’t happen again.”

My stomach twisted painfully. He wasn’t looking at me now — not really. His gaze was distant, locked somewhere over my shoulder.

“But—” I tried, my voice catching. “Brandon—”

“It’s Mr. Cole,” he corrected, sharp and final. “Get back to the hotel. Clean yourself up. We have work to do. You’re still on this business trip, and I expect you to act accordingly.”

“And the next time this happens, you can forget about working with me”. He said, turning around.

“What exactly is your problem?” I yelled after him, louder than I intended, my voice echoing against the street. “You keep acting like you own me, and the second I try to get you to actually say what you feel, you hide behind ‘Mr. Cole’ and your damn rules!”

He stopped mid-step, his shoulders tensing at my words.

I took a shaky breath. “You want me to act professional? Fine. But don’t stand there acting like you’re some victim when you’ve been playing these games for months.”

His jaw tightened immediately. Then, very slowly, he stepped toward me again, voice low, sharp, precise.

“You think you’re ready for what would happen if I stopped holding back?” His voice was soft now.

“I’ve spent months trying to stay professional. Trying to respect the boundaries…”. He paused.

“But last night,” he continued, his voice rough, “when I saw you leave with him? When I had to picture his hands on you, his mouth on you—” He exhaled sharply, jaw tightening. “You have no idea how close I came to forgetting every rule I’ve forced myself to follow.”

His hand hovered for a second, like he was fighting the urge to touch me, to grab me right there.

My breath caught in my throat.

“I’m your boss, Kingsley. You work for me. And no matter how badly I want to forget that…” his voice cracked, just slightly, “…I don’t have the luxury.”

Another pause. His chest rose sharply.

“That’s my problem.”

And just like that — his expression closed off again, slipping back into that cold, distant professional mask.

“Now get in the car,” he said quietly but firmly, “before I say something neither of us can take back.”