Page 16 of The Alpha's Crimson Vow (Eternal Oath Saga #2)

Katherine

It’s been two weeks since Pinnacle Group was on the verge of collapse. Fourteen days since the company nearly went bankrupt, since I was this close to being pushed out of my own position as CEO.

Now, everything is different. Almost miraculously so. The turnaround has been nothing short of stunning, the kind of rebound that makes financial analysts do a double take. The numbers are not just back to where they used to be—they’re climbing higher, stronger. There’s momentum. There’s hope. There’s a real shot at taking this company beyond anything it’s ever been before.

It should feel like a victory. I should feel relieved, maybe even a little triumphant.

And in some ways, I am. It’s easier to breathe now, without the constant weight of impending disaster pressing down on my shoulders. The boardroom isn’t a battlefield these days. Frank is gone. And with him went at least some of the danger. Lawrence and the family elders have backed off too.

And most importantly—James is making progress. Slow, frustrating progress, but progress nonetheless. Every day, he gets closer to uncovering the truth. The truth about who had my parents killed. The truth about who wants me dead.

That should be my focus. That should be the thing occupying my mind.

But it’s not.

Because for the past two weeks, I’ve had to deal with him.

Alex.

Every day, he’s there. Sitting across from me at board meetings, hovering on the edges of my work life like an unavoidable shadow. As if I don’t already have enough reminders of how I let myself be fooled by him.

And then, there are the flowers.

Roses. Lilies. Orchids. Some sent to my office, others delivered straight to my penthouse, because apparently, he refuses to acknowledge personal space. Always with a note. Always with some variation of We need to talk or Please hear me out. As if some beautifully arranged bouquet can erase the betrayal.

Well. That all stops today.

I march down the hallway, my hands tightening around the folder I’m holding. The board meeting is about to start, and this is it. This is the day I put an end to whatever game he thinks he’s playing.

The doors to the boardroom swing open as I push through them, and I barely slow my stride as I move toward my seat at the head of the long, gleaming table.

“Good morning,” I say, offering a curt nod to the board members as I pass.

They’re all here—every single one of them seated, ready, folders open, pens in hand. The usual suspects. The people who run this company alongside me, the ones who almost tore me down, and now pretend like they never considered it.

And then there’s him.

Alex is seated at the opposite end of the table, directly across from me, just like always.

I don’t look at him. Not really. Just a glance. Just enough to note that for once, he had the sense not to bring his bodyguards with him today. At least there’s that.

I settle into my chair, straightening my papers in front of me.

“Alright,” I say, letting my voice cut cleanly through the murmurs of small talk still lingering in the room. “Let’s begin.”

Andrew is the first to speak, as usual. It’s routine—he always kicks things off with an update on the company’s current standing. But today, his voice carries a little extra enthusiasm, the kind of energy that comes from delivering nothing but good news. He sounds like a man who loves what he’s about to say.

“Good morning, everyone,” he begins, clearing his throat slightly before launching in. “I’d like to start by bringing the board up to speed with the developments that have come as a result of our partnership with Mr. Alex Valkov.”

At that, he gestures toward Alex, who sits there, as unreadable as ever. His expression is calm, composed—polished, even.

Andrew continues, his excitement building.

“First of all, the numbers are looking excellent. We are not just out of the woods—we are well clear of bankruptcy. And it gets even better. We’re currently turning profits that actually surpass some of our best-performing periods. But the real excitement? The projections.”

A ripple moves through the room. The murmurs start—low but unmistakably pleased. I can already see it, the subtle changes in posture, the approving nods, the pleased glances exchanged between board members.

Andrew barely pauses before driving the point home. “As things stand, we are on track to generate record-breaking revenues in the next quarter.”

Now, the reactions are more pronounced—pleased whispers, smiles forming, some even leaning forward in their seats. It’s the kind of news they love to hear. The kind that fills their pockets.

Andrew presses on, his energy only growing. “The transfer of assets and infrastructure to the real estate holdings in Europe —which Mr. Valkov so graciously allowed us to use—has been a game changer. It’s opened our eyes to the potential and possibilities of expanding into the European market.

“Additionally, through Mr. Valkov’s connections, we’ve built solid working relationships with contractors in Europe. The benefits of continuing down this path are undeniable. We’ve found a viable market. There’s access to affordable labor, access to affordable materials. A European base, along with long-term expansion, presents enormous opportunities.”

More approving nods. More murmurs of agreement. They’re practically glowing now, every single one of them. This is what they wanted. More money. Bigger opportunities.

I, however, keep my expression neutral. Still. Unmoved.

Andrew continues, still beaming. “In short, we are in a remarkably stable position. Arguably better off than we were before the crisis even began. With our current financial standing, we can not only sustain our European presence but even revisit the Asian expansion plan in the near future.”

He pauses, letting the weight of that sink in before he finally adds, “None of this would have been possible without the financial support, real estate access, and invaluable contacts provided by Mr. Alex Valkov. So, I’d like to personally thank him, and I believe I speak for all of us when I do.”

He sits back down, still grinning. They’re all smiling now, all looking toward Alex with what I can only describe as gratitude.

Alex, in turn, offers a small nod. Nothing over the top. Just a quiet, controlled acknowledgment of their thanks. There’s a faint trace of satisfaction on his face, but nothing that gives away any real emotion.

I clear my throat, and just like that, every pair of eyes in the room turns to me. Their expressions haven’t changed yet —still bright, still pleased with the glowing update they’ve just received.

I turn to Alex, keeping my posture composed, my face unreadable. My voice is professional.

“On behalf of the entire Pinnacle Group, I’d like to formally thank you, Mr. Valkov,” I say, each word measured. “Your help has been invaluable to our company. You stepped in at our darkest hour, and we will not forget that.”

Applause breaks out almost immediately. A few of them even nod as if to emphasize their agreement.

Alex holds my gaze, a small smile playing at his lips. There’s slight furrow in his brow when I say Mr. Valkov. It’s subtle, just a flicker of something before he smooths it over. I know he wants me to call him Alex. But I don’t.

And I don’t smile back. Not even a hint of one. My face remains set, impassive.

The clapping lasts longer than I expect, but I wait, letting it run its course. And when it finally dies down, I speak again.

“However,” I begin, my tone crisp. “I have an important announcement to make regarding our partnership with Mr. Valkov.”

The energy in the room changes. The murmurs fade, but the air remains expectant. They’re still riding high on the news.

And then I drop the bombshell.

“I’d like to announce that by the end of the month, we will be ending our partnership with Mr. Valkov.”

Silence.

It’s like the air has been sucked right out of the room.

The reaction is immediate. The subtle smiles vanish, replaced by confusion. Brows knit together. The board members exchange glances, searching each other’s faces like one of them might have an answer scribbled on their forehead.

Alex just looks at me. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something there—something simmering beneath the surface that I don’t have the patience to decipher.

I don’t care. I press on.

“In the next month, we will begin the process of redirecting our assets back to home soil,” I state firmly. “This will allow us to unburden Mr. Valkov’s real estate holdings and facilitate a complete transfer. Again, I want to express our gratitude for his generosity, but the company is stable now. We can move forward on our own.”

Silence.

The confusion in the room turns to discomfort, unease.

No one knows what to say.

Then, Lawrence clears his throat beside me. His voice is calm, careful. “Ms. CEO, this is… quite a surprise. I think we should take some time before making that decision. At the very least, we should deliberate.”

My response is immediate. “What’s there to deliberate? The company is healthy. We can revert to our standard mode of operation. We can’t expect to continue burdening Mr. Valkov.”

Andrew hesitates, then speaks up. “If I may… it doesn’t seem like it’s much of a burden to him.” His tone is cautious, like he already knows I won’t like what he’s saying.

And then Alex speaks.

“It’s not a burden at all.”

His voice is deep, firm. The kind that cuts through the tension effortlessly. And suddenly, every eye in the room is back on him.

His gaze stays on mine. Steady. Intent.

“It’s never a burden,” he says, his voice slow, intentional. “Not when I’m doing it for her.”

My stomach clenches. Heat creeps up my face—part frustration, part something else I refuse to name.

Why would he say that? Why on earth would he say something like that here, in front of the entire board?

I force it down. Swallow the irritation, swallow everything else, and keep my voice even. Professional. Distant.

“Pinnacle Group was not built on charity.” My words are precise. “We appreciate your help. We truly do. But we are stable now, and we will begin taking steps to return to independent operations.”

No one speaks.

I gather my things. The meeting is over. I stand, pushing back my chair, and make my way toward the door.

Every step is heavy under the intensity of their stares.

They don’t approve. Of course they don’t.

Alex is making them richer than they ever imagined. This partnership is a gold mine, and they want to keep digging.

But I can’t.

I can’t keep seeing him in my space. I can’t keep feeling the sting of betrayal every time I look at him. I can’t keep reliving the moment I realized I was nothing more than a means to an end for him.

I want him out of my company.

Out of my life.

I turn the door handle to my office, step inside, and shut it behind me. For a moment, I just stand there in the middle of the room, inhaling deeply, then letting out a long, measured sigh. It’s partly to release the tension from that boardrooms events, but mostly because of the absolute state of my office.

Alex has turned it into a damn botanical garden.

Flowers. Everywhere.

Bouquets of all kinds—lavish arrangements of roses, lilies, tulips, orchids—spilling over the desk, the coffee table, the shelves. Some are balanced precariously on the windowsill, others stacked haphazardly near the wall where the delivery woman must have dumped them. I don’t even bother keeping up with the notes anymore.

They arrive every single day, each carrying some message I refuse to read. At first, I tried sending them back, but that turned into a whole ordeal—the delivery woman would stand there, flustered, insisting she had to leave them. After a while, I just gave up and told her to put them anywhere.

And now my office looks like a goddamn Valentine’s Day showroom.

I shake my head, stepping carefully between the floral chaos as I make my way to my desk. The air is thick with the scent of flowers—sweet, cloying, overwhelming.

It doesn’t move me. Not in the way Alex probably hopes it does.

If anything, it just grinds at me. Every single bouquet is a reminder—of how stupid I was, how naive I let myself be. For all I know, this is just another one of his games, another ploy.

I lower myself into my chair, exhale another breath, and shove everything else out of my mind. There’s work to be done. Real work. Especially now that I have to start setting things in motion for the termination of our partnership.

I get to it immediately, fingers clicking over my keyboard, eyes locked onto my screen.

I don’t know how long I work. Could be an hour. Maybe more. Time always slips away when I’m deep in it. But then—

A knock comes on the door.

I stop typing, but I don’t look up. My lips press together, irritation flaring up instantly.

I don’t respond.

It comes again. More insistent this time.

I close my eyes briefly, steeling myself for what’s about to come. Another round of Alex showing up, trying to get me to listen. Another exhausting episode of me telling him I’m not interested in anything he has to say.

I exhale sharply. “Come in.”

The door opens.

It’s not Alex.

It’s Lawrence.

A strange mix of emotions rolls through me. I can’t tell if it’s relief or disappointment—or both at the same time. There’s a part of me, a part I keep trying to shove down, that wants it to be Alex. That wants him to walk through that door, his presence filling the space the way it always does.

I ignore that part. Smother it.

I meet Lawrence’s gaze, my expression steady. “Uncle Lawrence. To what do I owe this visit?” My tone is crisp, professional.

He steps further into the room, his sharp eyes sweeping over the mess of flowers. He lets out a short chuckle. “I see Mr. Valkov has been making his intentions quite clear.”

I don’t react. Don’t acknowledge the statement. I just raise a brow at him, waiting.

He takes the seat across from me, resting his hands on the arms of the chair, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp. “Katherine. We need to talk.”

Of course we do.

I sigh, leaning back in my chair. “Uncle Lawrence, if you step into my office, I already know it’s because we need to talk. Just get to it.”

He doesn’t waste time.

“Your announcement at the meeting,” he says, voice firm. “This plan to end the partnership with Mr. Valkov. It’s absurd.”

I tilt my head slightly, studying him.

He presses on. “That partnership is the reason this company is still standing. It’s the reason we’ve not only stabilized but are in a position for major expansion. It is, quite frankly, the smartest move this company has ever made. So tell me, Katherine—why on earth would you want to end it? And so needlessly, at that.”

“I already stated my reasons,” I reply evenly. “This company was not built on charity. We need to return to independent operations, and we need to do it now.”

His gaze doesn’t waver. “You’re making a decision that will directly impact the board’s financial interests. If they believe you’re threatening their profits, they will push back. You do realize you could be voted out?”

My lips twitch slightly, the humor in this getting to me. Is it the same Lawrence who was half a breath away from leading a vote to remove me? Now he’s suddenly giving me advice on how to keep my position?

His brows draw together. “This is… funny to you?”

“Yes, actually. It is.” I lean forward slightly, resting my arms on my desk. “Not too long ago, you were ready to lead a vote to have me replaced by your beloved Frank. And now you’re worried about decisions that could get me voted out? Of course it’s funny.” My voice is dry when I continue. “You’ve always hated me, Uncle Lawrence. If I’m making decisions that might cost me my job, you should be thrilled.”

His eyes stay locked onto mine, steady, unreadable. Then—

“I don’t hate you,” he says, voice low. “I don’t particularly like you. But I don’t hate you. Just as I don’t particularly love Frank.”

I arch a brow.

He moves slightly, straightening in his chair, his tone turning declarative. “I am the leader of the family elders. The elders, as I’m sure you’re aware, are responsible for ensuring that Pinnacle Group—a company built on the Lockhart name—remains strong. And that it continues to adhere to the traditions that have made it successful for generations.”

He holds my gaze, his next words slow, deliberate.

“You, Katherine, are the most rebellious person I know. You spit in the face of traditions. You are unmarried. You run this company with no husband beside you. That is not how things were done in this family. That is why I favored Frank—because he is married and aligned with the values I am sworn to uphold.”

I don’t say anything. I just listen.

“But now,” he continues, “Frank is no longer on the board. And you are flirting with a full-blown mutiny. If your actions are seen as a direct threat to the board’s profits, they will have a reason to remove you. And if that happens, for the first time in history, a Lockhart will not be the CEO of Pinnacle Group.”

His voice drops, final and unwavering.

“That will not happen under my watch.”

I inhale slowly.

I’ve always known the elders were obsessed with their outdated traditions. They’ve resented me from the moment I took charge, not because I was incompetent, but because I was a woman. Because I had no husband to “lead” me.

But now? I see the bigger picture.

Lawrence isn’t loyal to me. He isn’t loyal to Frank. His only loyalty is to the elders. To the name.

I let the silence stretch, then nod slowly. “I’ll present a plan to assure the board that the company will be just as profitable without the partnership.” My voice is calm, decisive. “But one way or another, the partnership with Alex ends.”

Lawrence doesn’t break eye contact. He studies me, his jaw tightening slightly, as if weighing whether to push further. Then, finally, he exhales through his nose.

“You’re stubborn,” he says.

“You’re observant,” I reply dryly.

He just continues staring, as though searching for a crack, a hesitation, something to work with. But he won’t find it.

After a moment, he leans back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other. “I hope, for your sake, that your plan is as solid as your convictions.”

“It will be.”

A beat passes. Then his gaze sweeps over the sea of flowers once more. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something about the way his eyes linger on them, as if piecing together some puzzle only he can see.

Then he turns back to me, his voice dropping to that low, measured tone of his. “It’s strange.” A pause, a flicker of something knowing in his stare. “When this man was pretending to be a janitor—for reasons I neither know nor understand—you seemed determined to be with him. And now that he’s revealed his wealth, now that he’s making his intentions blatantly clear, it seems you want nothing more than to rid yourself of him.”

My jaw tightens. I move my focus to my computer screen, my fingers hovering over the keyboard. I won’t engage with this.

“That is a private matter,” I say curtly, dismissively.

Lawrence barely acknowledges my words. He just leans back, completely unfazed. “Well,” he says, voice casual, like he’s discussing something as trivial as the weather, “the elders have been watching. And from all indications, he’s certainly a good fit.”

My fingers curl into a fist on the desk.

“He’s also quite clearly after you,” he continues. “And we are all in agreement that the family and the company would benefit if you married him.”

My eyes snap back to him.

The sheer audacity.

That sharp, grinding irritation surges through me, hot and bitter. But I force myself to stay still, my expression carefully composed.

Lawrence, of course, just presses on, completely oblivious—or worse, indifferent—to how infuriating his words are. “He would be a strong partner to you,” he muses. “And an excellent leader for the company. He has the approval of the board. And of the elders.”

The misogyny practically dripping off his words.

That’s their way, these elders. Always looking for a man to take the reins, always scheming to push me into the background. It doesn’t matter how much I’ve done for this company. In their eyes, I’ll never be enough—not on my own.

I sit up straighter, my spine rigid with defiance. “I am the leader of this company, Uncle Lawrence.” My voice is cold, unwavering. “Not Alex. Not any man.”

A heavy silence falls between us.

Lawrence stares at me for a long, unreadable moment.

Then—without another word—he rises from his chair and strides toward the door.

But just as he reaches it, he pauses. Turns back.

“Consider your next line of action very carefully, Katherine.”

His voice is calm, but the gravity of his words is unmistakable.

And then he’s gone. The door clicks shut behind him.

I force my eyes back to the screen, willing myself to focus. Work, Katherine. Focus on work.

But my mind has already begun to spiral, my thoughts churning in relentless loops.

Alex.

Just thinking of his name sends a sting through my chest—a sharp, unwelcome reminder of everything he did. Of how I let myself believe in him. Of how stupid I was to be so open, so vulnerable.

And now? Now the family elders are pushing for a union. As if my life is some kind of business transaction they get to negotiate.

Alex, relentless as ever, refuses to take the hint—no matter how many times I’ve shut him down, no matter how clear I’ve made it that I don’t want to see him, speak to him, have anything to do with him.

And the board? Of course, they want him to stick around. Why wouldn’t they? He’s securing their investments. To them, he’s an asset.

To me, he’s a problem.

A problem that won’t go away.

I lean back in my chair, exhaling sharply as I press my fingers to my temple. I have to get him away from me. I have to come up with something. Some way to make him leave. For good.