Mixed Signals

I know I shouldn't have worn this skirt, I can't even breathe freely in them let alone work, the heels weren't helping either, I couldn't help but to fasten my pace ,it was my first day at Vance holding and I couldn't help but frown about my choice of clothes or rather the one that was imposed on me by jenny my house mate to , I've known her since uni days. She's literally the family I never had , Jenny is beautiful, her lips are full as that of a plum ,she is breath taking and she knows it. she was actually the one that told me about the opening at Vance holding, the most powerful real estate developer in the state. she has been my guide without her I wonder what my life would be like as a lady in her 20's living in LA.I majestically stepped into Vance holding, "Good morning,Mac", I smiled as I saw the only person I knew in this enormous company, Mac was the security guard. " Beautiful morning,miss Sarah, you look ravishing ,pink is definitely your color " I chuckled and didn't say

I stayed kneeling on the cold marble floor for a long minute, not moving, just listening to the distant whir of the express elevator as it rocketed the arrogant jerk to his ivory tower. The silence he left behind felt like a physical judgment.​My hands trembled as I started gathering the scattered documents. Confidential employee contracts. Salary structures. All compromised. My cheeks burned so hot I felt they might blister. If you can't walk like a professional... then you don't belong here. His words replayed, a low, menacing growl in the quiet lobby.​I hate him. I officially hate Alexander Vance.​I crammed the proprietary papers back into a messy, crumpled pile. The five-inch heels, the symbols of my humiliation, suddenly felt like lead weights on my feet. I wanted to fling them across the room. Jenny’s insistence on "executive chic" had just cost me my dignity and, probably, my job.​"Miss Sarah, you okay?" Mac’s voice was a warm, concerned rumble from his post.​I didn't look

(Alexander's Pov)​The heavy mahogany doors felt solid and silent as they closed, shutting me back inside my fortress. I walked across the vast, polished expanse of my office to the window overlooking the city, but the view offered no clarity.​She’s still out there. Sarah Hayes.​She had the nerve to hang up on her friend—on a personal call—in front of me, but the sheer frustration in her voice when she picked up the phone was what had held my attention. I had caught the end of her hissed reply to whoever was on the other end: "Perfectly understood, Mr. Vance." Ice. She was a fiery disaster wrapped in pink silk and a defensive shield of contempt.​I dropped into my chair, the memory of her collision still sharp. The immediate, electric friction of her body against mine. The panic in her eyes. I had been planning to fire Ella for days, but the moment Sarah hit me, the decision was made. I didn't need a PA; I needed a distraction. A replacement for the gnawing void Judy had carved out

( Alexander pov)The charcoal-gray sedan glided through the morning traffic, the tinted glass providing an illusion of isolation I craved. I ignored the low hum of the city and focused on the previous night.​You are mine, Miss Hayes.​I hadn't slept well. The metallic taste of the power I asserted over her was intoxicating, but the sight of her eyes—wide, shocked, and wet—haunted me. The contact, the pressure of my thumb on her cheekbone, was a reckless breach of conduct. It was impulsive, raw, and utterly satisfying. I hadn't wanted to simply dismiss her; I wanted to pull her across the desk and take the defiance out of her body, replacing it with submission.​But Judy's ghost was always faster. The moment the thought of possession turned truly physical, I retreated, scared that in grasping Sarah, I would find myself suffocating Judy’s memory yet again. I told her to leave. A tactical withdrawal, fueled by fear, masked as command.​I pulled into the private underground parking garag

(Alexander Pov)I watched Sarah Hayes walk away from the table, her black dress making her appear smaller and more vulnerable than she truly was. The click of the door closing was the signal for the atmosphere to shatter.​I turned my full, cold attention back to Elias Thorne.​"The expansion strategy requires singular focus, Elias," I stated, my voice dangerously even. "And that requires an understanding of professional boundaries. My staff is not available for frivolous distraction, nor are they a topic of discussion."​Thorne, normally so boisterous, had the sense to look chastened. "My apologies, Alex. Just admiring your taste in... talent."​"Admire the deal, Elias," I cut him off, leaning forward, hands steepled. "Focus your energy on the asset valuation and less on the periphery. Now, regarding the environmental impact liabilities of the Rio project, I believe we established a three-to-one risk ratio..."​I swiftly steered the conversation back onto the ice. I was brutally effi