Page 15 of The Alpha's Crimson Vow (Eternal Oath Saga #2)

Alex

I just need to talk to her.

That thought rumbles through my head, relentless, circling back over and over like a damn anthem. If I can just make her understand—if I can explain why I had to pretend to be a janitor, why I left the way I did—she’ll see it from my perspective. She’ll come around. I know she will.

But she won’t give me the chance.

The past week has been a blur of activity, most of it under my supervision. Pinnacle Group’s assets are already moving, transferred seamlessly to my real estate holdings in Europe. The payments I’ve made into the company ensure that everything continues to run smoothly, no financial hiccups, no delays. I’ve been at the board meetings, sitting across from her as we discuss infrastructure development, strategic changes, the new financial landscape. Some of my key associates from Europe have flown in, and we’ve been going over the details, hammering out the short term and long term vision.

On paper, everything is falling into place.

But my mind hasn’t been on any of it. Not really.

Because all I can think about is her.

All I can think about is how badly I need to talk to her alone. But every time I try, she keeps her distance, like I’m a landmine she refuses to step too close to. She keeps things strictly business—curt, professional, detached.

It’s frustrating.

I would’ve thought—hoped—that after everything I’ve done for her, after saving the company, making sure the board didn’t vote her out, even getting those spineless bastards to turn on her treacherous, thieving cousin—she would’ve at least let me explain myself.

But I get it. I do.

I was cold before I left. It was necessary. I know she’s hurt, and I know she doesn’t trust me anymore.

But she’s still my fated mate.

She’s still mine.

And when I finally get to explain everything, when she hears the truth, she’ll come back to me.

I take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the bouquet of flowers in my hand as I walk. The fragrance blooms in my nose—rich, delicate, lingering. My two guards trail slightly behind me, their footsteps steady against the marble floor.

A small smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth as I catch the looks from some of the staff still lingering in the building—heads of departments, assistants, the late night stragglers finishing up their work.

They nod respectfully as I pass, murmuring polite greetings, acknowledging me with subtle deference.

It’s almost laughable.

These same people never spared me a second glance when I was here as a janitor. Back then, I was invisible, a fixture in the background, someone they’d walk past without a thought.

I reach the door to Katherine’s office.

I know she’s in there, even though the workday is long over. She’s always there. Always working late, long after everyone else has gone home.

I glance at my watch. 8:59 PM. A familiar hour.

This is when I used to come by. When we’d sit together in her office, eating dinner, talking about everything and nothing.

I miss it. I miss it so much.

I miss the sound of her voice, the way her laugh would fill the space, the way she’d ramble about her day, sometimes venting, sometimes teasing, sometimes just talking for the sake of it.

I miss how easy it was to just be with her.

I stare at the door for a long second, letting the moment settle.

And then—9:00 PM.

The second the minute hand clicks into place, I inhale deeply, steadying myself.

And I knock.

“Come in.”

Her voice rings out—steady and familiar. The same way she always said it when I used to come here at this hour, back when I was just the janitor. Back when she didn’t know who I really was.

I turn slightly, glancing at the guards behind me. They don’t belong in this space. Not in our space.

“Wait here.”

They bow their heads in quiet acknowledgment, stepping back as I reach for the door handle. With one deep breath, I push it open and step inside.

And there she is, just as I remember it.

Sitting at her desk, bathed in the soft glow of her computer screen, her features sharp and pristine, just as they always are. Her expression is unreadable, focused, her eyes moving across the screen as if whatever is in front of her holds more importance than my presence.

For a moment, I just stand there. Drinking her in.

I’ve spent months watching her from this very doorway. Watching her laugh, watching her sigh in frustration, watching her get lost in thought as she worked. I used to stand right here, sometimes asking a question I already knew the answer to or making a final comment just to steal an extra second of seeing her before heading out.

She lifts her gaze, finally looking at me.

Her face doesn’t budge—not at first. Then, I catch the subtle flicker of her eyes moving past me, out toward the hallway, resting on the guards standing behind me.

Her brows pull together ever so slightly, just the faintest hint of disapproval. I step fully into the office, shutting the door behind me.

Silence settles between us.

I stand there, bouquet of flowers in hand, waiting, watching.

She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t move. She just looks at me, and as much as I try to decipher her expression, I can’t read what’s going on in her mind.

All I know is that my pulse is quickening, my chest tightening with the emotions of being alone with her again in this space.

I finally break the silence.

“Good evening, Katherine.”

She straightens in her seat, her hands resting perfectly still on her desk.

“Good evening, Mr. Valkov.”

Her tone is curt. Sharp. Cold.

And my heart sinks at the sound of it.

“Katherine.” I take a slow step forward. “You know you can call me Alex.”

She exhales through her nose, shaking her head slightly, like I’ve said something exhausting. Then, without another glance at me, she turns back to her screen, dismissing me with the tilt of her chin.

“The working day is over, Mr. Valkov. Is there something I can help you with?”

Mr. Valkov.

Like I’m just another businessman. Another associate. Like I’m nothing to her.

I take another step forward, gripping the bouquet a little tighter.

“Katherine,” I say, my voice lower now. “We need to talk.”

She doesn’t even look up.

“I believe we’re both up to speed on all work related matters. Unless there’s an update I should be aware of—”

“Katherine, stop.” The words tumble out before I can stop them. “I’m not here to talk about work. I’m here to talk about us.”

A beat of silence.

Finally, she pulls her gaze from the screen and looks at me again.

There’s something unreadable in her expression. Something guarded.

“Us?”

She says the word like it’s foreign. Like it doesn’t belong in her mouth. Then, she shakes her head—sharper this time, more decisive.

“If you’re not here to talk about work, then there’s nothing for us to talk about, Mr. Valkov.”

I inhale deeply, trying to steady myself, trying to find the right words.

Another step closer. Not too much, just enough. My voice is gentler now, careful.

“Katherine, I know I hurt you. I know I was terrible to you before I left. But please, you have to hear me out. You have to let me explain.”

Her head tilts ever so slightly, her jaw tightening.

“I don’t have to listen to anything that isn’t related to our business arrangement.”

Her words cut clean and sharp, each syllable carrying a bite, as if the very suggestion that she has to listen to me grates against her.

I exhale, the breath leaving me in a slow sigh.

I just need her to listen. Just for a moment.

“Haven’t I earned that much?” I press. “I helped save the company. I stopped the board from replacing you. I even got rid of Frank—”

Her eyes flash, her expression twisting into something between disbelief and irritation.

I don’t know why she’s looking at me like that. I’m not throwing any of this in her face. I’m just stating facts and making a case for her to at least hear what I have to say.

“At the very least, I think I’ve earned a minute to explain myself. To tell you why I did what I did.”

She lets out a scoff, shaking her head like I’ve just said something blasphemous.

“Oh, so you think I should be grateful? Is that it?” She leans back, crossing her arms, her voice laced with sarcasm. “You think I should throw my hands in the air and give you a hug?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m—”

“No, Alex.”

The way she says my name—it’s sharp, final.

“You don’t get to come in here and make any demands of me.”

It stings, the way she speaks to me like this. Like I’m just some outsider forcing my way into her world. But a small part of me—the desperate part—is at least relieved she called me Alex and not Mr. Valkov.

“You show up here, flanked by your guards, like you’re making some kind of power move. You take over my board. You use a crisis to impose your will on my company, making them push for a member’s removal—”

Something in me tugs at that statement.

“Frank?” I cut in. “I did that to protect you. He wanted you out more than anyone, and he was stealing from the company. I did that for you.”

She doesn’t even hesitate.

“Did you ask me?”

Silence.

I swallow hard. I have no answer for that.

She presses on, her voice unwavering. “But you know what? I will thank you, Alex.”

She straightens in her chair, holding my gaze. And for the first time, there’s no coldness, no sharp edge—just sincerity.

“You saved Pinnacle Group. You saved my position. And for that, thank you.”

I hear the honesty in her voice. She means it. But then the steel returns, anger simmering beneath the surface as she continues.

“And maybe that makes you think you have the right to walk around here with your guards, flaunting your power and wealth. Maybe it makes you think you can come into my office and demand a conversation.”

Her eyes harden, and when she speaks again, her voice is firm, unyielding.

“But let me be very clear, Alex—whatever you’ve done, whatever you’ve fixed, whatever power moves you’ve made—none of it gives you the right to stand here and tell me I owe you anything beyond work.”

She switches her attention back to her computer, her fingers moving over the keyboard with quick, decisive strokes. “Now, if there’s nothing else. I’d like you to leave my office.”

Her words ring in my ears. For a moment I just stare at her, even as she doesn’t spare me a look. It only hardens my determination. I have to get through to her.

“I’m not going anywhere until I say what I need to say.” I reply.

She freezes for a fraction of a second, her body tensing before she turns her eyes back to me. And damn if it doesn’t hurt, the way she looks at me—her eyes shimmering, not with longing, but with something sharp and painful.

She reaches forward, shutting down her computer with a decisive click, and starts gathering her things.

A quiet panic tightens in my chest.

I can’t let her leave. Not without telling her everything.

“Katherine…” I take a small step forward, watching her shove files into her bag. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going home.” Her tone is flat. “If you won’t leave, then I will..”

And then she moves. Heading for the door, walking past me like I’m nothing but air.

Every fiber of my being screams at me to stop her. To reach out, to pull her back, to touch her. Just once. To remind her, and myself, of how she feels in my arms.

I don’t.

But I try to hold her with my words instead.

“Katherine, that day you overheard me on the phone—” The words rush out before I can think. “I never meant to hurt you. I’m sorry. I only did it because—”

She stops.

And then she turns.

Her eyes lock onto mine, and the fire in them nearly scorches me where I stand.

“Do you even know what you did to me that day?”

Her voice is different now. Low. Trembling. Something in it makes my chest tighten.

She takes a step closer. “Do you have any idea what you did to me, Alex?”

I swallow, my throat dry.

She doesn’t wait for me to answer.

“That day, I found out my parents were murdered.”

The words hit like a punch.

She’s staring at me, but it’s like she’s seeing something else entirely. Her loss. The pain. The horror of it.

“Katherine, I—”

“That day, I learned that the people who killed them might have been behind the car crash that almost took my life. That my life was in danger.”

A sharp breath leaves her lips, shaky and uneven, but she presses on.

“I saw it on a video, Alex.” She swallows hard. “Do you know what that did to me? Watching footage of my parents being killed? After believing for all this time that it was an accident? And then to find out they were after me next?”

Her voice shakes, and every instinct in me wants to pull her into my arms, to shield her, to make all of it disappear and to tell her the truth about the car crash.

I take a step forward. “Katherine, I can expla—”

“And then I came looking for you.”

She cuts me off, and my entire body tenses.

“I didn’t know where else to go. I was breaking apart, and all I could think was—‘If I can just get to Alex.’”

The ache in my chest deepens.

“I ran to you.”

Her words shake something loose inside me.

“And what did I find?”

She takes another step closer, her expression twisting with hurt and fury all at once.

“That you had been using me all along.”

My jaw clenches. “Katherine, that’s not—”

“I spent weeks… Months even… thinking—hoping—it was some kind of mistake.” She lets out a hollow laugh. “Maybe you were drugged. Maybe you were blackmailed. But no. That was you.”

Her voice drops, raw and wounded.

“I was breaking apart, Alex. And I ran to you.”

A single tear streaks down her cheek. And that’s it. That’s my breaking point.

I reach for her, my hand brushing her arm.

She smacks it away.

“Don’t you dare.”

A beat passes.

The air between us is thick, suffocating. The only sound is our breathing—mine slow and controlled, hers unsteady.

She wipes her face, her hand trembling for just a second before she steadies herself. She regains her composure now, as if demanding it of herself not to ever be vulnerable with me again, and when she speaks, her voice is like steel.

“For so long, I had so many questions.”

She exhales, her eyes locking onto mine.

“But now? I don’t even care anymore.”

The finality in her voice slams into me harder than a bullet.

“I don’t care what your mission was. I don’t care why you did whatever you did. Thank you for your business offer. You saved my company, and for that, I’m grateful. But please—outside of work?”

Her voice turns cold. Detached.

“I want you to leave me alone.”

She turns. Walks to the door.

I grip the bouquet of flowers in my hand, the stems pressing into my palm.

She swings the door open. My guards are still standing there.

She barely even looks at them as she pushes past. “Get out of my way.”

They move instantly.

I stand there, motionless, listening to the sound of her heels clicking down the hall. It echoes out, growing fainter and fainter with each step.

I lower my head, my pulse hammering in my ears. My chest aches, my grip tightening around the flowers until the petals crumple.

And deep inside me, my wolf stirs.

It lets out a low, restless growl—weak, pained.

Katherine is my fated mate.

And she just rejected me.

My wolf is growing weaker. Drowsy. The rejection seeping into my very being.

I inhale sharply, my jaw locking.

No.

I will get her back. I must.

Whatever it takes.