Chapter 5: Room 1402

I don’t think I made any mistake… maybe he just doesn’t know me well enough, Serena mused, replaying her earlier, uncomfortable encounter with Alexander. His abrupt shift in mood still clung to her, unsettling her in ways she couldn’t quite explain. Had she unknowingly stepped over some invisible line?

The faint buzz of her phone snapped her out of her thoughts. Seeing Kevin flash on the screen brought a moment of relief.

“Ava, have you arrived?” Kevin’s familiar voice was calm, though laced with curiosity.

“Hey, Kevin…” she sighed, running a tired hand through her hair. “I think I might’ve messed up.”

Kevin, momentarily stunned, paused. Serena—known to the design world as Ava Alvarez—was legendary for her meticulous skill and composure. He had never once heard her second-guess herself.

“Room 1402,” he said, reassuring her in a gentle tone. “Come up here, and we’ll sort this out together.”

“Okay.” She ended the call, flagged down a server for directions, and made her way through the dim corridor. Soft lighting and muted footsteps gave the hall a hushed elegance, but it did little to soothe the uneasy pounding in her chest.

Inside the lavishly furnished suite, Kevin exchanged a subtle glance with Raphael Richardson, who was sprawled comfortably on a leather sofa, glass of whiskey in hand, looking every bit the charming aristocrat in his crisp tailored suit.

“The designer will be here soon,” Kevin informed him.

Raphael, with the easy confidence of a man who’d never known struggle, offered a lazy smirk. “No rush. Xander’s on his way too. When they finally meet, things will work out.”

Kevin loosened his tie with a small sigh. “Alexander and I went to high school together, but… he probably doesn’t remember me. We were never close.”

Raphael’s grin widened. Alexander’s name always carried weight—an unapproachable aura that had drawn others in while keeping them at arm’s length. Even as a student, Alexander had been untouchable, with an air of effortless superiority.

Just then, the door swung open.

Serena stepped inside, alone, carrying herself with quiet grace. Her light, casual outfit still spoke of refined elegance; hair pulled back neatly, a designer handbag balanced on her arm.

Raphael’s eyes lit up, a spark of intrigue crossing his features. “I wasn’t expecting such beauty,” he mused aloud. Then his brow furrowed slightly. “Didn’t my cousin pick you up? Where is he?”

Cousin? Serena paused for half a second—Alexander and Raphael were family?—but recovered quickly, smoothing her expression.

“Maybe I offended Mr. Vanderbilt somehow,” she replied evenly, her voice a calm ripple in the charged atmosphere.

Raphael laughed, swirling the golden whiskey in his glass. “Offended him? With your talent? I doubt it. He’s a businessman, sure, but he’s got a double degree—one of them in art. He should appreciate your work. More likely, he’s in a bad mood over the divorce.”

Serena’s eyelashes fluttered subtly, but she kept her face composed.

Kevin’s brows lifted. “Alexander is married?”

Raphael nodded. “Yeah. Got married young, but the first thing he did when he came back was call a lawyer to finalize the divorce.”

Serena inhaled slowly, careful to maintain a mask of polite indifference.

Raphael, who had never cared much for Vanderbilt family politics, shrugged. “This is the first time I’m hearing about his wife,” Kevin admitted. “Wasn’t the Manhattan villa supposed to be their wedding house?”

Raphael tapped his glass thoughtfully. “It was. But Alexander never wanted his current wife. The marriage was forced. He probably bought that villa for someone else, to be honest.”

A faint, ironic smile curled at the corner of Serena’s lips. So he’s planning a wedding house for another woman before he’s even divorced?

Raphael handed her a glass of chilled juice, his smile easy and generous. “When Alexander shows up, I’ll present your work to him personally. Trust me, he’ll be interested.”

Serena accepted the glass with a polite nod. “Thank you. If this goes through, dinner’s on me.”

Raphael chuckled. “Don’t worry about it. If you nail this deal, your name is going to explode. You’ll be in huge demand.”

Serena knew what was at stake. Landing this project would not only secure her financial future but would also establish her in the highest design circles.

If she succeeded, everything would change.

---

Meanwhile, down the corridor, Alexander stepped into a separate private suite, his arrival causing an almost tangible shift in the air. Conversations dimmed, the energy of the room bowing to his presence.

The dim light threw angular shadows across his perfectly tailored suit. He paused to silence a buzzing phone—Raphael, again—before ignoring it completely.

Hugo, draped casually over a lounge chair, lifted an amused brow. “What’s with that look? Who pissed you off this time?” he teased, swirling his own glass of wine.

Alexander unbuttoned his cufflinks and tossed them aside with a quiet clink. “She’ll sign the divorce papers eventually,” he said flatly. “She knows why we married.”

But even as he spoke, his irritation had little to do with the divorce.

His mind was still tangled in the memory of her—the contradictions she presented. An innocent face, yet an air of practiced distance; trembling under his touch, yet claiming experience. It made no sense.

A flash of that night returned to him unbidden—her flushed cheeks, breathless gasps, the way she’d clung to him—and he scowled, downing the remainder of his drink in a sharp swallow.

Raphael’s name lit up on the phone screen again, relentless. This time, Alexander picked up.

“Xander, come downstairs,” Raphael’s voice was cheerful, underscored by the pulsing beat of club music. “I want to introduce you to someone.”

Alexander pinched the bridge of his nose. “If it’s another woman, spare me.”

Raphael laughed. “No, no, trust me. You’ll want to meet this one. She’s impressive. If you don’t, I might just keep her for myself.”

A cold light flickered through Alexander’s eyes. “Since you have so much time on your hands, I’ll have HR put together an internship program for you at the company. You can report at eight a.m. tomorrow.”

Raphael choked. “Hey—”

But Alexander had already ended the call, his jaw tightening, as unreadable as ever. 

---

Back in the private suite, Raphael let out a resigned sigh, shaking his head with a trace of frustration before turning toward Serena. “It’s on me. He’s impossible to deal with.”

Serena’s expression remained composed, unshaken. “Don’t worry, Mr. Richardson. Maybe Mr. Vanderbilt already has someone in mind.”

Raphael looked genuinely surprised. “Impossible! He’s still hunting for a designer.”

Serena simply smiled, polite but distant. “Sometimes things just aren’t meant to work out. Maybe Mr. Vanderbilt and I were never meant to cross paths.”

Raphael exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck. “If he doesn’t take you, I will. I have plenty of properties that need someone with your touch. I love your aesthetic.”

Serena accepted the business card he handed over, giving him a graceful nod. “That means a lot, Mr. Richardson. Thank you.”

After they exchanged contact information, Raphael excused himself, leaving Serena alone to handle Kevin, who was now thoroughly drunk.

Kevin, who had managed to keep up appearances for the sake of business, was practically draped over the sofa, mumbling nonsense to himself. Serena sighed, moving to support him gently.

“I’ll call a driver to take you home,” she told him calmly, knowing all too well that if she drove him herself, his jealous new wife might spin the situation out of control.

Kevin’s eyes were bleary, his words thick and slurred. “Serena… it’s not what you think…” He struggled to stand as she tried to guide him toward the elevator. “She only cares about the money… I’m so tired of it…”

Serena tried to maintain some distance, but the dead weight of him leaning on her made it nearly impossible.

As the elevator doors slid open with a chime, Kevin, staggering, nearly pitched forward—straight into Alexander.

Alexander reacted instinctively, catching Kevin’s shoulder with one strong hand, his movements unhurried and precise. His other hand held the elevator doors open, his expression cool and unreadable as his eyes swept over the scene.

Serena’s heart skipped a beat. Three times in one day? What were the odds?

Alexander’s sharp gaze flicked between Serena and the drunken Kevin, a glint of something—cold amusement, maybe even contempt—flickering in his eyes.

“Which floor?” he asked, his tone low and indifferent.

“First,” Serena replied, trying to keep her voice steady. “Thank you.”

She risked a glance at him. Dressed in an impeccably tailored suit, the top two silver buttons of his crisp shirt left undone, Alexander looked both dangerously relaxed and impossibly sharp. There was an almost mocking edge to the way he looked at her, as if he could read every hidden worry she carried.

Kevin, oblivious, continued to mutter, “It’s always about money. Do you even care…”

Serena frowned, recalling the rumors swirling around Kevin’s wife—how her lavish spending had driven a wedge through their already fragile marriage.

Alexander gave a faint, dismissive scoff. “He’s your client?”

Serena hesitated. She couldn’t very well tell Alexander that Kevin was technically her boss; if Alexander felt even the slightest irritation, he might blacklist the entire studio out of spite.

Feeling a tinge of cornered vulnerability, she nodded politely. “Yes, Mr. Vanderbilt. What a coincidence, running into you again.”