Chapter Ten

Morning comes too quickly.

Not in a poetic way. Not in a “new beginning” kind of way.

Just… too quickly.

I had changed my outfit three times before finally settling on this one.

The first outfit was too formal.

Sharp navy trousers, silk blouse, heels high enough that they were almost impossible to walk in. I had stared at myself in the mirror for exactly ten seconds before deciding I looked like I was preparing for a courtroom battle instead of a construction site.

The second was somehow worse.

Cream blouse. Soft grey flared skirt. Minimal makeup.

Emily had walked into my room, taken one look at me, and said carefully, “Respectfully, babes… you look like you’re going on a date.”

I changed immediately.

The third outfit annoyed me most because I couldn’t explain why I hated it. I just knew I did. Something about it looked too deliberate. Too carefully effortless.

Like I cared.

Which I absolutely did not.

So this is where I ended up.

Charcoal tailored trousers fitted perfectly against my waist. Crisp white button-down tucked neatly in place beneath a structured black blazer. You can never go wrong with black and white. I pair it with red heels and a red purse.

Professional enough to create distance.

Exactly what I need.

My hair is pulled back into a low bun—sleek, col. A few loose strands frame my face, but not enough to soften anything important.

Small silver earrings.

Minimal makeup.

Neutral lipstick.

Untouchable.

I look at my reflection one last time before grabbing my bag.

Perfect.

Or close enough.

Felicia is already waiting outside my office with her tablet pressed against her chest.

“Good morning, ma’am.”

“Morning.”

Her eyes flick over me briefly.

Too briefly.

Like she notices things and chooses survival over commentary.

Smart woman.

“The site vehicle is downstairs,” she says. “We leave in fifteen minutes.”

“Good.”

I step into my office to grab the finalized plans.

Then my eyes land on the flowers.

Still there.

Soft blush peonies resting inside the crystal vase like they belong in the room.

Like they belong to me.

Sunlight spills across the petals through the office windows, making them look unfairly beautiful.

Annoying.

Beside them sits the cheesecake box.

Untouched.

Mostly untouched.

I narrow my eyes at it.

Technically, I only had one bite last night.

One.

That does not count.

Felicia notices where my attention drifts but wisely says nothing.

I pick up the project folder instead.

“Anything else?” I ask.

“No, ma’am.”

“Then let’s go.”

The drive to Bridgewood Heights takes nearly forty minutes.

The city shifts gradually outside the tinted windows.

Glass towers give way to wider roads. The polished business district fades behind us, replaced by open industrial spaces and developing infrastructure.

Felicia reviews the schedule beside me.

“Geotechnical engineers arrived earlier this morning,” she says while scrolling through her tablet. “Foundation marking is almost complete for Tower One.”

I nod absently while looking outside.

This project is massive.

Three residential towers.

Luxury penthouses.

Commercial lower floors.

Sky gardens.

Underground parking.

Months ago, it existed only in my sketchbook.

Now people are preparing to build it into the skyline.

That feeling never gets old.

No matter how many projects I complete, there is always something surreal about watching an idea leave your head and enter the real world.

“You okay, ma’am?”

I blink and look at Felicia.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

She hesitates carefully. “You seem distracted.”

I almost laugh.

Distracted.

Right.

Definitely not because Alexander Sterling decided to bulldoze back into my life with flowers, cheesecake, and emotional damage.

“Focus on your tablet, Felicia.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

But I catch the tiny smile she hides afterward.

Traitor.

Bridgewood Heights is not a building yet.

It is possibility.

Wide stretches of cleared land spread across the site beneath the harsh morning sun. White chalk markings and string lines divide sections of earth into future structures only architects and engineers can fully visualize.

Workers move across the site carrying equipment while surveyors stand over tripods taking measurements.

Heavy machinery waits near the excavation zones.

Nothing beautiful yet.

Just groundwork.

But this is my favorite stage.

Before concrete.

Before glass.

Before expensive interiors and polished marketing campaigns.

This part feels honest.

Pure structure. Pure planning.

I step out of the vehicle carefully, heels sinking slightly into the uneven ground.

One of the engineers immediately jogs toward us.

“Ms. Kingsley,” he greets quickly. “Good morning.”

“Morning.”

He gestures toward the marked foundation zones.

“We’ve started verifying the pile coordinates for Tower One.”

“Show me.”

Felicia follows closely behind me while typing notes into her tablet.

The engineer leads us across the site, explaining adjustments made after the latest soil analysis.

“The western section showed slightly lower density than projected,” he says. “So we compensated by extending foundation depth recommendations.”

Good.

Competent people are refreshing.

I crouch slightly near one of the marked points, studying the layout.

White lines stretch across the ground in organized precision, mapping out spaces that will eventually become walls, elevators, apartments, lives.

I point toward one section immediately.

“This alignment is off.”

The engineer pauses. “Sorry?”

“The spacing between these two pile points.” I straighten. “It’s too compressed.”

He checks the plans quickly.

His eyes widen slightly.

“You’re right.”

“I usually am.”

Felicia coughs suspiciously behind me.

I ignore her.

The engineer quickly calls someone over to correct the measurements.

That’s when I feel it.

That awareness.

That shift in atmosphere that has absolutely nothing to do with construction noise or moving machinery.

Alexander Sterling is here.

I don’t turn immediately.

I hate that my body recognizes him before my eyes do.

Slowly, I look up.

He’s walking across the site toward us, sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms, dark sunglasses resting briefly in one hand alongside a safety helmet.

Simple black shirt.

Dark trousers.

Expensive watch.

Effortless authority.

Infuriatingly attractive.

He looks like the type of man who belongs everywhere without trying.

Several workers greet him as he passes.

He acknowledges each one casually.

No arrogance.

No forced friendliness.

Just confidence.

Our eyes meet briefly.

Then his gaze drops toward the plans in my hand.

Professional.

Controlled.

Like yesterday’s phone call never happened.

Good.

That’s better.

“Ms. Kingsley,” he says smoothly once he reaches us.

“Mr. Sterling.”

Felicia looks between us like she’s watching live entertainment.

Traitor.

The engineer clears his throat awkwardly before spreading the updated foundation layout across a portable table.

“We’re currently reviewing Tower One’s structural grid before excavation begins,” he explains.

I lean over the plans immediately.

Work first.

Always.

“The elevator core positioning changed,” I note instantly.

Alexander steps closer beside me.

“Fire safety revision,” he explains calmly. “The previous placement complicated emergency access routes.”

I study the updated layout again.

Then nod once.

“Better solution.”

His gaze shifts toward me briefly.

“You agree with me?”

“Don’t get used to it.”

The corner of his mouth moves slightly.

Felicia pretends not to notice.

The inspection continues from there.

We move through marked zones discussing excavation depth, drainage routing, foundation load distribution, and structural sequencing before concrete work begins.

And annoyingly—

Alexander actually knows what he’s talking about.

Not in a “rich man repeating words from meetings” kind of way.

He understands the project.

The engineering logic.

The design purpose.

At one point, one of the contractors suggests simplifying part of the podium structure to reduce costs.

Before I can respond, Alexander says flatly, “No.”

The contractor pauses.

Alexander points toward the plans.

“The curved podium design supports the entire visual identity of the project. Removing it compromises architectural continuity.”

I blink once.

Because…

That is exactly what I was about to say.

He notices my expression.

A faint smirk appears.

I immediately look away.

Annoying man.

Later, while reviewing Tower Two markings, one of the engineers accidentally references outdated dimensions.

I correct him instantly.

Alexander backs my correction without hesitation.

Again.

Not replacing me.

Not overpowering me.

Just reinforcing my authority in the room.

And somehow that unsettles me more than flirting would.

Because it feels natural.

Like we’ve worked together before.

Like we understand each other’s rhythm too easily.

Felicia eventually steps aside to answer a phone call, leaving the two of us standing near the center survey lines while workers move around us.

The wind shifts lightly across the open land.

Alexander looks down at the marked foundation grid.

“You still do that.”

I glance at him. “Do what?”

“Tilt your head slightly when you’re calculating.”

I stare at him for a moment.

“That’s a strange thing to notice.”

“It’s not strange.”

“It is when you’ve been gone for years.”

Silence stretches briefly between us.

Not dramatic.

Not painful.

Just there.

Construction noise fills the distance—machinery humming, workers shouting measurements, metal clanging against metal.

Then he says quietly, “You still think I forgot you.”

Something about the way he says it tightens my chest unexpectedly.

I look away first.

“This is a site inspection, not therapy.”

A soft huff of laughter leaves him.

“Right.”

Felicia returns before the conversation can shift into dangerous territory again.

“Ready to review the final section?” she asks.

“Yes,” I answer immediately.

I step forward first.

I always do.

But as we continue walking across land that is still only foundation lines and unfinished possibility, one thought lingers quietly in the back of my mind.

Some things begin long before construction does.