Chapter Nine

I spend the rest of the morning pretending I’m unaffected.

Pretending the flowers by my window don’t keep catching my attention every five minutes. Pretending the cheesecake sitting untouched beside my laptop isn’t distracting me.

Pretending Alexander Sterling hasn’t completely invaded my peace in less than forty-eight hours.

It’s embarrassing, honestly.

“Ma’am?”

I look up from my screen.

Felicia stands in the doorway again, tablet in hand. “Mr. Sterling’s assistant just sent over the project schedule.”

Of course he did.

“Okay,” I reply calmly.

Too calmly.

Her lips twitch like she knows exactly how hard I’m trying to act normal.

Traitor.

She steps inside and places the tablet on my desk.

“The first site inspection is tomorrow morning. Apparently Mr. Sterling will also be present.”

I freeze for exactly half a second.

Then I recover.

“That’s unnecessary. CEOs don’t usually attend site inspections.”

Felicia gives me a look.

“Maybe he’s very dedicated to architecture.”

I narrow my eyes at her.

“Felicia.”

She coughs to hide a laugh. “Sorry, ma’am.”

“Mhm.”

She leaves before I can fire her for being annoying.

I exhale slowly and open the schedule.

Bridgewood Heights Project.

Luxury residential development.

Three towers.

High-profile investors.

Completion timeline—aggressive.

And right there at the bottom:

Lead Contact: Alexander Sterling.

My jaw tightens.

Why does seeing his name still do something to me?

I open the file anyway, forcing myself to focus.

Building elevation.

Structural detailing.

Material selections.

Normal things.

Things that should matter more than flowers and annoying billionaires.

I manage exactly seven minutes before my eyes drift back to the peonies.

Soft blush and white petals spill elegantly from the crystal vase, glowing beneath the sunlight pouring through my office windows.

Beautiful.

Deliberate.

Calculated.

The man sends flowers like he’s staging a romance movie.

Ridiculous.

Completely ridiculous.

My phone buzzes before I can spiral further.

Unknown Number.

I stare at it for three full seconds before answering.

“What now?”

A soft chuckle slides through the speaker.

“You answer my calls very fast for someone pretending not to like me.”

“I answer because I like knowing who’s disturbing my peace.”

“Mm. So defensive.”

I lean back in my chair. “Do billionaires not work anymore?”

“I’m working right now.”

“Harassing me isn’t work.”

“I disagree.”

I can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

Annoying man.

“What do you want, Alexander?”

A brief silence follows.

Then—

“Lunch.”

I blink once.

“No.”

“Dinner then.”

“No.”

“Coffee?”

“No.”

“You’re difficult.”

I twirl my pen between my fingers slowly.

“You disappeared for years,” I reply before I can stop myself.

The words leave too quickly.

Too honestly.

Silence.

Real silence this time.

Not teasing.

Not playful.

My chest tightens immediately afterward.

Damn it.

I didn’t mean to say that aloud.

When he finally speaks again, his voice is quieter.

“I know.”

Something about the way he says it unsettles me instantly.

Not defensive.

Not dismissive.

Just… heavy.

Like he’s carried those words before.

I grip my pen tighter.

“Then you should also know you don’t get to walk back into my life like nothing happened.”

“I never said nothing happened.”

His voice remains calm.

Controlled.

That somehow makes it worse.

I stare out the glass windows of my office.

The city stretches endlessly below.

Busy.

Loud.

Alive.

Meanwhile my heart suddenly feels too loud inside my chest.

“You left,” I say quietly.

Another pause.

Then—

“I did.”

No excuses.

No lies.

No attempt to deny it.

And somehow that annoys me even more.

“You don’t get points for honesty now.”

“I know that too.”

God.

Why does he sound like this?

Like he expected my anger.

Like he accepted it long ago.

Before I can respond, my office door swings open suddenly.

“Anna!”

I nearly jump.

Emily walks in dramatically wearing oversized sunglasses and carrying two shopping bags.

Alexander goes quiet on the line.

“Oh,” Emily says slowly, eyes narrowing immediately. “You’re on the phone.”

I close my eyes briefly.

“Emily—”

Her eyes widen.

“No way.”

Too late.

A slow grin spreads across her face.

“No way.”

“Emily.”

“That’s him, isn’t it?”

I hear the faintest sound from the phone.

A laugh.

Traitor.

Emily gasps louder. “HE’S LISTENING?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“I’m hanging up.”

But Emily has already abandoned her shopping bags and is now tiptoeing dramatically toward my desk.

I narrow my eyes at her immediately.

She ignores me completely.

Instead, she leans across the desk trying to study my expression.

“If that’s the hot billionaire,” she whispers loudly, “blink twice.”

Alexander laughs softly through the speaker again.

I hate both of them.

“Tomorrow,” Alexander says smoothly before I can disconnect. “Nine a.m. Don’t be late, sweetheart.”

Then the line goes dead.

I stare at my phone in disbelief.

The audacity.

“The sweetheart thing would absolutely work on me by the way,” Emily says helpfully.

I glare at her.

She drops dramatically into the chair opposite my desk.

“So,” she says excitedly, “office romance?”

“There is no romance.”

“Mhm.”

“There isn’t.”

“You’re blushing.” “I am not.”

“You literally are.”

I grab a file and throw it lightly at her face.

She cackles.

“Oh my God,” she laughs, “Anastasia Kingsley is flustered.”

“I’m irritated.”

“The line between irritation and attraction is very thin.”

“Please leave my office.”

“Absolutely not.”

I groan and lean back in my chair while Emily keeps grinning like an evil matchmaker.

Then—

My phone buzzes again.

A message.

Unknown Number.

I already know who it is.

Against my better judgment, I open it.

Eat the cheesecake, Sia.

You stress-eat when you’re angry.

My breath catches slightly.

Because—

He’s right.

Slowly, Emily notices my expression.

Her grin fades a little.

“What?” she asks softly.

I stare at the message again.

At the way he still remembers things nobody else notices.

Tiny things.

Insignificant things.

Things even I forgot about myself.

I don’t answer immediately.

Instead, my gaze drifts toward the cheesecake sitting beside the flowers.

The stupid thing looks expensive.

Perfectly plated.

Blueberries arranged carefully on top.

He probably had someone personally deliver it fresh this morning.

Ridiculous.

Absolutely ridiculous.

A blurry memory surfaces before I can stop it.

Sixteen-year-old me sitting angrily on the Sterling kitchen counter with my arms folded across my chest.

“I’m not eating.”

Xander barely glances up from the plate he’s making.

“You’ve been angry for three hours, Sia.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

He slides a slice of cheesecake toward me calmly.

“Eat.”

“I’m mad at you.”

“You can be mad while eating.”

I remember glaring at him before taking the plate anyway.

I blink hard, forcing the memory away.

God.

I hate this.

I hate how easily he slips into spaces I sealed shut years ago.

Emily watches me carefully now, quieter than before.

“That serious, huh?” she asks softly.

I stare back down at the message.

At the way he still remembers things nobody else notices.

Tiny things.

Insignificant things.

Things even I forgot about myself.

Emily starts talking again, still teasing me about billionaires and romance and whatever else is running through her chaotic brain.

But I barely hear her.

My eyes stay on the message.

Eat the cheesecake, Sia.

You stress-eat when you’re angry.

I should block his number.

Instead I saved it.