Page 4 of The Alpha's Crimson Vow (Eternal Oath Saga #2)

Katherine

“You can handle anything they throw your way.” Alex’s words repeat in my head like a mantra. Even as my eyes meet Lawrence’s across the ballroom.

He’s seated at a round table with the other family elders, looking every bit the self-assured patriarch, sipping his whiskey and whispering to the others. His eyes flick to me, and I don’t miss the subtle smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. He knows I came alone, and he’s loving every second of it.

Good. Let him.

I didn’t pick anyone from his ridiculous list of potential dates. And I refuse to regret it, even if it feels like the spotlight’s been turned on me for all the wrong reasons.

A server passes by with a tray of champagne flutes, and I pluck one off without breaking stride. The bubbly is crisp, a welcome distraction as I move through the lavishly decorated ballroom. The chandeliers overhead cast a golden glow, and the room buzzes with laughter and conversation. The men are polished in sharp black tuxedos, and the women float around in elegant dresses that shimmer under the light.

I catch my reflection in a tall, mirrored wall, and for a fleeting second, I pause. I look stunning, even if I do say so myself. My black dress clings in all the right places, its sleek silhouette radiating power and sophistication. The straps rest delicately on my shoulders, and the neckline dips just enough to turn heads without crossing into trashy territory. My diamond-encrusted necklace glints under the lights, adding just the right amount of sparkle.

But the reflection also tells another story. I’m alone. Everyone else seems to have arrived with someone on their arm. I take another sip of champagne, swallowing the bitterness that creeps in alongside the bubbles.

As I turn, I catch the sight of Frank and Uncle Lawrence. They’re headed straight for me, Frank’s smug grin leading the charge. His arm is looped around a woman I vaguely recognize—one of his many ex-wives, I think.

They reach me in seconds, and Lawrence doesn’t waste time.

“Katherine,” he says, his voice low but biting, “I warned you not to attend without a date.”

The words hit like a whip crack, but I stand tall, meeting his glare head-on. “Well, Uncle Lawrence, the list you gave me wasn’t exactly brimming with stellar options,” I reply, keeping my tone calm, even pleasant.

“That list had exceptional men on it,” he counters. “Men who would’ve been good for you—and particularly good for this event.”

“Well…” I let the word hang in the air, a defiant smile tugging at my lips. “Too bad.”

I turn slightly, ready to walk away and put this conversation behind me, but Lawrence’s next words freeze me in place.

“You will not be giving the opening remarks tonight.”

It takes a second for the words to sink in. When they do, I turn back to him, my heart pounding harder now, a mix of disbelief and fury bubbling to the surface.

“The CEO of this company always gives the opening remarks at the annual gala,” I say, keeping my voice steady even as the anger rises.

“And the CEO,” Lawrence cuts in, emphasizing the title like it’s a crown he’s tempted to snatch off my head, “has always had their partner by their side during those remarks. Since you don’t have one, you will not be doing it.”

He gestures toward Frank, who’s been standing by silently, looking far too pleased with himself. “Frank here will take your place.”

The words land like a slap, and I’m suddenly too aware of the room around me. This moment—this privilege—is mine. It’s reserved for the CEO. It’s my chance to stand in front of investors, government officials, and employees as the leader of this company.

And he’s taking it away. Handing it to Frank.

“Frank will do no such thing,” I snap, my eyes narrowing as I glance at Frank, his smirk practically oozing off his face, before locking my gaze back on Lawrence.

“If you stand on that podium without a partner, you’ll embarrass the company,” Lawrence says, his tone sharp enough to cut steel. “That’s not what your father would’ve wanted.”

The mention of my father feels like a knife twisting in my gut.

Lawrence doesn’t wait for a response. He turns and strides away, leaving me standing there, seething. Frank steps forward, his grin somehow managing to widen.

“Don’t worry, cousin,” he says, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “I’ll give a fine speech.”

And with that, he walks off too, leaving me standing alone, my grip tightening around the champagne flute as I fight the urge to shatter it right here in my hand.

They stroll back to the table where the other elders are sitting, basking in their little victory like a pack of hyenas after a successful hunt. My eyes trail after them, catching the smug expressions on their faces as one of the elders pours Frank a drink.

Frank lifts his glass in a mock toast, the room catching faint echoes of their laughter. Then he stands, straightening his tuxedo with an exaggerated flourish, and launches into a playful mockery of a speech.

The fire inside me roars. It’s fury and humiliation, all mixed together in a boiling cauldron of rage that’s ready to spill over.

I don’t know what my next move will be, but one thing is for sure: if they think I’m just going to roll over and let them do this to me, they’re in for a rude awakening.

Then, like a shift in the wind, the atmosphere in the room changes. It’s subtle at first. But then it grows, the energy turning electric, and murmurs ripple through the crowd like a current.

My gaze darts toward the source of the disturbance—the entrance to the ballroom.

A figure strides in. He’s tall, towering over the others near the door, and broad in a way that commands attention. His shoulders move with a natural rhythm, each step purposeful. Even from across the room, I can see the way his tuxedo fits him perfectly, the tailored fabric hugging every line and edge of his powerful frame.

The murmurs grow louder as heads turn, people sneaking glances or openly staring. Women exchange glances, whispering to one another with smiles tugging at their lips. Some even chuckle softly, their eyes tracking him as he moves deeper into the room.

But he doesn’t seem to notice—or if he does, he doesn’t care. There’s an intensity to his stride, an unyielding purpose that sets him apart.

My eyes narrow, a spark of disbelief flickering in my chest as the figure comes closer.

My breath catches.

Is that... Alex?

His eyes move around, scanning the ballroom as though he’s trying to locate something—or someone.

I blink, hardly believing what I’m seeing. “Alex?” The name escapes my lips, hesitant, as if I’m trying to be sure it’s actually him.

At the sound of my voice, his head turns sharply in my direction. For a moment, his face is unreadable as he looks me over as if surprised by seeing me dressed up. Then, his features soften and he comes over..

“Ms. Lockhart,” he greets, his voice warm and familiar. “This is impulsive, I know, but I thought I would take responsibility for convincing you to come alone, by making myself available to be your date tonight. In case you ended up really needing one.”

I don’t even think—my feet move before my mind catches up, and suddenly, my arms are around him, pulling him into a hug. Relief floods my chest, overwhelming in its intensity. It’s incredible, the way he’s always so thoughtful, so protective.

A long-buried memory stirs in my head, so random and yet so warm—a childhood wish for a puppy, something small and precious, something I would have given anything to protect and be protected by. And somehow, in this moment, he pulls that memory from the depths of me.

The hug lingers just long enough to convey my gratitude, but not so long that it feels unprofessional.When I step back, his eyes are fixed on me with that unreadable expression he has so often.

“Alex,” I breathe, trying to steady myself. “You’re a lifesaver.”

He gives me a curt nod. “Happy to help, Ms. Lockhart,” he says, his tone so polite it makes me want to laugh.

For a moment, I just stand there, taking him in. It’s really him, here, looking absolutely… incredible. His hair is styled perfectly —sleek, with just a hint of disarray that makes it feel effortless. His sharp jawline is accentuated by the soft lighting, and his tuxedo? Well, it’s like it was tailor-made to highlight his broad shoulders and trim waist. It hugs him in all the right ways, and I can’t help but feel my breath catch in my throat.

I realize too late that I’m staring, completely transfixed, until his voice breaks through my daze. “Ms. Lockhart? Are you okay?” His tone is laced with genuine concern, and that just makes it worse.

“Yes,” I say quickly, feeling heat rush to my face. “I’m fine. Really.” I smile, mostly to reassure myself, before slipping my arm through his. “Come with me.”

I lead him to a table near the stage, and we settle in just as the room starts to hum with anticipation. The event is about to begin. The master of ceremonies steps onto the stage, microphone in hand, his voice smooth and professional as he addresses the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the annual Pinnacle Group Gala.” His tone is warm, practiced, and vaguely reminiscent of a late-night talk show host. “As always, we’ll be kicking things off with the opening remarks.” He glances at his notes and pauses. “I’ve been informed that the remarks will be given by the company’s CFO tonight, rather than the CEO.”

Oh, no. Absolutely not.

“Alex,” I say, my voice low but firm, “come with me.”

He doesn’t hesitate, rising with me in one smooth motion. I loop my arm through his again, and together we make our way to the stage. The room seems to hold its breath as we climb the steps, all eyes turning to follow our every move.

The MC’s eyes widen slightly, but he recovers quickly, his voice booming through the microphone. “It seems we’ll be hearing from the CEO herself after all!” There’s a ripple of polite applause and murmurs of approval from the crowd. “Please welcome Ms. Katherine Lockhart, CEO of Pinnacle Group.”

Alex steadies me as I step up to the podium, his hand a reassuring weight on my arm. My gaze sweeps across the room, and my eyes land on Frank. He’s frozen mid-stride, halfway through the hall with that ex-wife of his on his arm. His green eyes burn with anger, his jaw tight with embarrassment. It takes everything in me not to smirk.

Then I spot the family elders. They’re seated at their table, looking like a collective group of men who just lost a high-stakes bet. Their disappointment is palpable, and it fuels me.

I squeeze Alex’s arm lightly before leaning into the microphone and delivering my speech. My words come easily, and I keep my tone steady and confident, declaring the gala officially open and welcoming everyone to enjoy the evening.

The rest of the night is a blur of handshakes, smiles, and polite conversation. Guests and associates approach me one after another, and each time, I introduce Alex as my boyfriend. He plays along effortlessly, charming everyone with his easy demeanor. It’s almost too perfect.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Frank watching us from across the room, his face tight with restrained fury. He doesn’t approach me. Neither do the elders. They wouldn’t dare.

And that’s when it hits me—like a flash of lightning in the middle of a clear sky.

What if I keep this up?

If they believe Alex is my boyfriend, they can’t use my single status to undermine me anymore. It’s genius.

I turn to Alex, who’s currently nodding politely at something one of the guests is saying. He’s so oblivious, so utterly wholesome in his willingness to help, that I almost feel bad for what I’m about to ask. Almost.

The guest walks off and I turn to Alex.

“Alex,” I say softly, waiting until his attention is fully on me.

“Yes, Ms. Lockhart?” His brow furrows slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

“There’s something I’d like to ask you. Actually, I need your help with something.”

“Of course Ms Lockhart.” He replies, his frame lightly hunching in attentiveness.

I take a steadying breath, my voice calm and measured. “I’d like to offer you a contract.”

His head tilts, confusion washing over his face. “A… contract?”

“Yes.” I nod, holding his gaze. “I want you to be my contract boyfriend.”