Chapter 93: Chapter ninety three

Alexander.

I stood outside Brandon’s office door with his coffee in both hands. My fingers wouldn’t stop trembling. I tried not to think about what Mr. Russo had said. Tried not to let it sit in my head like it meant something.

After a long second I pushed the door open.

Brandon was on the phone. The moment he looked up and saw me, relief washed over his face.

“How about we do this another time?” he said into the phone, eyes locked on mine. He didn’t look away even as he ended the call.

I forced a small smile and set the cup on his desk.

“Good morning. Your coffee.”

“Thank you.”

I turned to leave.

“You haven’t given me the schedule for today,” he said. Desperation edged into his voice.

“I already sent the email.”

“I didn’t receive it.”

He was lying.

“Okay. I’ll forward it again.”

“I’d rather you read it to me.”

I paused at the door. “Alright. I’ll grab my laptop.”

I stepped out and grabbed my laptop from my desk, then walked back in without knocking. Brandon was still watching the door like he’d been waiting the whole time. The coffee sat untouched.

I sat across from him, opened the laptop, and started reading the schedule in a flat voice. Meetings, deadlines, the usual. He didn’t interrupt. He just stared at me, elbows on the desk, chin resting on his hands.

When I finished, I closed the laptop. “That’s everything.”

“Stay,” he said quietly.

I stood up. “I have work.”

“Alex.”

The way he said my name made my chest tighten. I hated that it still worked.

“What?”

He leaned forward. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’ve been doing my job.”

“You didn’t come in yesterday.”

“I was sick.”

He knew it was a lie. I could see it in his eyes. He didn’t call me on it. Instead he reached for the coffee, took a slow sip, and set it down like he needed something to do with his hands.

“I’m not getting back with Drake.”

“Good for you.”

The words came out flat, but some stupid part of me still felt a rush of relief I didn’t want to admit. My fingers tightened around the edge of the laptop until the plastic creaked.

“Kingsley—”

“Alex.” I corrected him hard, eyes locked on his. He didn’t get to treat me like shit and then soft-voice his way back in with that name. His expression flickered—surprise, then something close to hurt.

He stood up so fast the chair scraped loudly against the floor. The sound made my shoulders tense. “Why the fuck are you even mad at me? You were speaking to my ex!”

“I wasn’t speaking to your ex. I didn’t even know he was your ex.” My voice came out sharper than I expected. “You embarrassed me in front of him. Should I start calling him your first love?” Heat crawled up my neck. “You will not project your trauma onto me. I deserve better than that.”

Lucas’s words from the other day flashed through my head, clear and cutting. Maybe he’d been right after all.

Brandon’s hands braced against the desk, knuckles whitening. I didn’t give him the chance to answer.

“You don’t get to treat me like dirt one minute and then try to ‘Kingsley’ your way back the next, thinking I will fold like always. No. Okay? No. I’m tired.” My chest felt tight, every breath a little too shallow. I kept my feet planted, refusing to look away first.

Brandon’s jaw tightened. For a second he just stared at me, chest rising and falling too fast. Then he dragged a hand through his hair, leaving it messy.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“No.” I shook my head.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t fucking want your apology.” My voice came out low and hard. “They used to mean something. Now they’re just words you throw out when you get caught. You keep apologizing for the same shit over and over. First it was your father. Then Desmond. Then your fiancée. Now your ex.” I paused, staring at him. “Who’s next? You have never once fought for me. I’m tired of waiting for you, fighting for you to overcome whatever demons are haunting you.”

“Kingsley—”

“Don’t.”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His hands flexed at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Kingsley…” He stepped around the desk, taking two long strides toward me. The space between us shrank fast. “Look, I’m sorry. I know I can be too much. I’m sorry, okay? Just… calm down.” He reached for my face. His fingers brushed my jaw, warm and familiar, and I let him. I hated that I let him.

“Kingsley…please.” His voice dropped softer. I grabbed both his hands. Giving them a light squeeze before pulling them away from my face. “I’d like to take a week off, if you won’t accept that. I will gladly turn in my resignation. And I mean it this time, Brandon”.