Page 3 of The Alpha's Crimson Vow (Eternal Oath Saga #2)

Katherine

The days have been speeding by this week. Maybe it’s because Friday is the Pinnacle Group gala, and time always seems to fly by when a date where you have to do something you’re not exactly thrilled by approaches. But also, maybe it’s because of work.

There’s a project to be completed this week. With the gala coming up, I’ve had the completion date moved forward, and so everyone is on their toes.

By tomorrow at noon, the entire project needs to be wrapped up, and the usual hum of the office has escalated to a near frenzy. It’s 7 PM on a Wednesday, and instead of the usual quiet, the office still buzzes with activity. I can hear muffled conversations from down the hall, the rapid clacking of keyboards, the occasional shuffle of papers. Everyone is pushing to get this over the finish line.

I, too, am buried in my work, the familiar rhythm of my fingers tapping against the keyboard filling my office. Audits, files, and department reports scroll across my screen, each demanding my attention. A small pang of sympathy flits through me for the staff still grinding away, but I suppress it quickly. This is part of the job—a part I’ve grown accustomed to.

A knock at the door pulls me from my focus. I don’t bother looking up, my eyes glued to the spreadsheet on my screen. “Come in,” I say, my tone brisk.

The door creaks open, and I glance up just in time to see Alex stepping inside, clad in his janitor uniform and carrying his cleaning supplies. His presence draws an immediate smile from me.

“Good evening, Ms. Lockhart,” he says, his voice polite as always. “Would it be okay if I come back later? I’m doing the cleaning rounds.”

I wave a hand dismissively, already feeling a small spark of joy at seeing him. “Oh, it’s okay, Alex. You can do it now. I won’t be stepping out of here for a while.”

He nods, his expression composed as he replies, “Yes, ma’am.” Then he sets to work, moving toward the door with his mop and bucket as he fits his cleaning mask over his face.

I watch him for a moment, unable to help myself. There’s something almost absurdly endearing about the sight of him with a mop stick in hand, his broad shoulders hunching slightly as he maneuvers it across the floor. The mop looks comically small in his grasp, more like a twig than a tool. I bite back a smile, shaking my head and turning back to my screen.

But then, another knock sounds at the door. This time, I hesitate. “Come in,” I say again, though my tone is more guarded now.

The door opens. It’s Frank. He strides into the room. The sight of him makes my stomach tighten, the easy mood Alex had sparked in me dissipating like smoke.

I glance briefly at Alex, who continues mopping as if he hasn’t noticed Frank’s arrival.

“Frank,” I say coolly, leaning back in my chair and folding my hands on the desk. “What brings you here at this hour?”

“Thought you might need some coffee. It’s going to be a long night with the deadline coming up,” he says, his tone just a little too smooth, the cup extended like an olive branch.

I freeze, my eyebrow lifting instinctively.

Frank? Getting me coffee? My mind reels at the oddness of it. This man has spent every possible moment making my life harder since I became CEO. He’s constantly undermining me. And now, he’s bringing me coffee? It doesn’t add up.

Before I can even voice my skepticism, Alex moves. He’s standing near the door with his mop, his large hands gripping the stick awkwardly, his eyes fixed downward. He takes a step back, and his broad frame bumps right into Frank.

It’s like watching a slow-motion disaster unfold. The coffee cup slips from Frank’s hand, spinning mid-air before crashing to the floor. The rich, dark liquid splatters everywhere, pooling around Frank’s polished shoes.

“Oh my…” Alex says, his deep voice carrying the tone of surprise but it still clings to that strange air of confidence that seems to always follow him.. “I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Frank’s voice explodes. His face flushes red in an instant.

Alex, for all his size, shrinks slightly under Frank’s glare. He bows his head and immediately moves to clean up the spill, the mop already in motion. “I’m really sorry, sir. I’ll clean that up right away and fetch another cup,” he says, his voice apologetic.

“You clumsy idiot!” Frank barks again, his voice rising. The venom in his tone is palpable, and it makes my stomach twist uncomfortably.

I push back my chair and stand. “Alright, Frank. That’s enough,” I say firmly.

Frank doesn’t even acknowledge me at first. His gaze stays locked on Alex, his jaw tight, the veins in his neck straining. “How the hell are you even employed, you big bumbling moron!” he spits.

“I said, that’s enough!” I repeat, louder this time, stepping forward. Frank finally turns to me, his eyes narrowing. There’s rage there, raw and unfiltered, and it shocks me. This is over coffee, for crying out loud. “Thank you for the coffee, Frank. I’ll get another one. It’s okay,” I add, trying to sound calm, even though my heart is pounding.

For a moment, it looks like he might argue, but then he huffs, his chest rising and falling heavily. He shoots Alex one last withering glare before turning on his heel and storming out, slamming the door behind him.

Alex doesn’t say a word. He just keeps mopping, his head down, movements steady and focused. I steal a glance, trying to catch a hint of his expression, unease curling in my chest. Did Frank’s tirade get to him?

But his face gives nothing away, none that I can see with his cleaning mask covering half of his face anyway. He’s a blank slate, calm and unreadable, as if the words never even reached him.

I sit back down slowly, my hands hovering over the keyboard, but I can’t focus on the screen in front of me. My gaze keeps drifting back to Alex. I want to say something—to comfort him, to apologize for Frank’s behavior—but the words won’t come.

Alex finishes cleaning the floor and moves on to the rest of the office, his movements efficient and practiced. He doesn’t linger, doesn’t make any unnecessary noise. And when he’s done, he starts packing up his cleaning supplies. But then he pauses.

He’s standing by the door, his hand on the knob, his face tight with something I can’t quite place. Conflict, maybe? Hesitation? Finally, he turns to me, and there’s a seriousness in his eyes that makes my chest tighten.

“Ms. Lockhart,” he says, his voice low. “I would like to tell you something.”

I sit up straighter, my attention fully on him now. “What’s that, Alex?” I ask.

He glances around, even though it’s just the two of us in the room. Then, in a few quick strides, he’s standing right in front of my desk. He leans down, his massive frame folding as he lowers his head to my ear. “Please… don’t drink anything, or eat anything Mr. Frank gives you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, but every word lands with the weight of a hammer.

And then he’s straightening up again, his eyes tinged with concern. He nods once, a silent acknowledgment, and walks out of the room without another word.

For a moment, I can’t move. I just sit there, staring at the closed door, my mind racing. My skin prickles, and a chill runs down my spine.

So it wasn’t an accident. Alex bumped into Frank on purpose. He spilled that coffee intentionally. And the reason why? Because he was protecting me. He thought—no, he knew—that something was wrong with that coffee. That Frank had done something to it.

My breath catches, and my chest tightens as the realization sinks in. Frank has always hated me, always wanted my position. But poisoning me? The thought feels surreal, like something out of a bad thriller movie. And yet, Alex clearly believed it enough to act.

A shiver rolls through me, but beneath the fear is something else. Gratitude. If Frank really was planning something, Alex might have just saved my life.

*

By the time Thursday rolls around, Alex’s words are still playing on a loop in my head, like a warning bell that refuses to stop ringing. It’s a new kind of tension, one I haven’t felt before. I’ve always had to keep my guard up—being the CEO of Pinnacle Group practically requires it. Every move I make, every decision, every word, it all gets scrutinized under a microscope. The board doesn’t trust me. They never have. Hell, they fought tooth and nail to keep me from getting this role in the first place. And the family elders? Let’s just say they weren’t exactly thrilled either.

But this? This is different. This is about my safety, my life. I run my hand across my temple, trying to push the anxiety aside.

My eyes flick back to my computer screen, scanning through the project data one last time. Everything is in order. Tomorrow night, everyone can rest easy and uwind at the gala.

The gala. Ugh.

I don’t even want to think about it. That damn list Lawrence handed me is still sitting on the corner of my desk. I have to show up with a date. God forbid I go alone. Apparently, a CEO attending solo is some kind of cardinal sin in the eyes of the elders.

Just as my annoyance is about to boil over, there’s a knock at the door. It’s a soft, familiar knock—one I’ve come to recognize. My mood lifts almost immediately,a spark of anticipation breaking through the me. It’s Alex.

This has become our thing ever since that day with the ramen. He shows up at my office, and we share dinner over easy, unhurried conversations. It’s the best part of my day, a reprieve from everything else. “Come in,” I call, already feeling a weight lift from my chest.

Alex steps in, the air in my office seems to change as his large frame comes through the door. In each hand, he’s holding what looks like food containers. “Good evening, Ms Katherine,” he says, his deep voice is warm, his eyes steady as he looks at me. “I made dinner this time.”

A smile forms on my face. It tugs at me, how thoughtful he is. His company is a breath of fresh air. And venting to him? It’s so easy. Easier than it should be, probably.

Tonight, the meal is pasta and meatballs, simple but delicious. He made it himself, and when I compliment the taste, a cocky smile spreads across his face. It’s not over-the-top, just enough to show he’s proud, and I can’t help but find it oddly endearing. There’s something about the quiet confidence he wears in this moment that draws me in, making the meal—and his company—feel even better. The conversation flows easily, like it always does.

But the cloud is still there, hanging over me. Even as we finish eating and Alex starts packing up the empty containers, I can feel it. My thoughts drift back to tomorrow night, to that stupid list, and my mood sours all over again.

Alex notices. “Ms. Katherine,” he says gently, “Is everything okay?”

I sigh, leaning back in my chair. “It’s that gala, Alex. It’s tomorrow night,” I admit, the irritation clear in my tone.

He nods slowly, his expression thoughtful. “That’s true,” he says, like he’s waiting for me to elaborate.

“I haven’t picked anyone from that abominable list,” I continue, the frustration bubbling up. “And I don’t want to.”

Alex watches me for a moment. Then he speaks. “What if you just don’t go with any of them?” he suggests, his tone careful but sincere. “What if you go all by yourself?”

A bitter laugh escapes me. “Yeah, that would go over really well,” I say sarcastically. “The family elders would never let me hear the end of it.”

He tilts his head slightly, considering. “Will they do anything besides talk?” he asks, his voice pointed, almost daring.

The question catches me off guard. It’s so simple, so matter-of-fact, but it hits hard. Will they actually do anything besides talk?

Before I can answer, he continues, his voice steady and encouraging. “I don’t think you should go with anyone you don’t want to go with,” he says, his eyes locking on mine. “And I trust you. You can handle anything they throw your way.”

The way he looks at me, the way he speaks to me—it ignites something deep within.

He’s right.

To hell with Lawrence’s list. I’ll go to the gala alone.