Alexander Sterling Novels & Stories

I wasn't ready for her inevitable questions. In the guest room that had become my temporary home, I pulled out my laptop and did something I'd been avoiding all week. I googled "Alexander Sterling." New articles had been published since I'd last looked. Photos from a charity gala he'd attended Wednesday night. He looked devastatingly handsome in a tuxedo, standing next to an elegant older woman the caption identified as his mother, Catherine Sterling. There were also older articles. About his wife's death. About his "extended period of mourning." About how he'd "finally returned to the social scene" in the past six months.

Her breath hitched. Standing there, flanked by four silent, imposing security guards, was Alexander Sterling. He was a titan in a charcoal suit, his presence so commanding it seemed to shrink the cavernous lobby. His shirt was slightly unbuttoned at the collar, revealing the hint of a powerful neck and the sheer physical size of a man who clearly spent his few free hours in a gym. His biceps strained against the expensive fabric of his sleeves.

He grinned, stepping forward with an outstretched hand. "So, this is the legendary little siren who made our stoic Saint Alexander finally lose his mind and put a ring on it?" He winked at me. "Vance Sterling. Alexander and I have been getting into trouble together since we were in diapers." I stifled a laugh at his infectious energy. Just as I reached out to shake his hand, Alexander's arm slid firmly around my waist, pulling me half a step back. "Hands to yourself, Vance." Alexander's voice was flat, but the warning was clear.

She looked older, silver hair braided neatly down her shoulder, but there was something calm about her presence that immediately eased a little of my embarrassment. “I’m Celeste,” she introduced gently. “And before your Alpha starts pacing holes into my floor, no, you are not dying.” Nathan frowned immediately. “I wasn’t pacing.” “You were glaring aggressively at the tea kettle.” She said, looking at Nathan who looked personally offended by the accusation. I bit my lip hard to stop myself from laughing. Celeste turned back toward me afterward, gently tilting my chin toward the light so she could examine the mark on my neck properly.

The third one. "It’s a bluff," Alexander said, pacing the length of the room. He had discarded his fisherman’s jacket for a tactical turtleneck, his eyes scanning the horizon for the Northwood drones they both knew were coming. "Sterling is a desperate man in a coma-ward. He’s throwing shadows against the wall to make us blink."

Then, a low, cold laugh rumbled deep in his broad chest. The sound was dark, sharp, and dripping with disbelief. "A meaningless one-night stand?" Alexander repeated, tilting his head as an amused, dangerous smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "You really are something else, Miss Sterling. Do you have any idea who you are talking to?" "I know exactly who you are, Mr. King," I answered calmly. "You are Alexander King. You own shipping lines, investment banks, and half the real estate in this city. People spend months begging your secretaries just to get a five-minute phone call with you."

Jameson Sterling, Alex’s father, greeted me with a warm, polite smile, his features an exact replica of Alex’s grey eyes and brown hair. “Thank you, Mr. Sterling,” I said softly, relief flooding through me as I’d gained two pleasant compliments tonight, but still waiting for one word of affection from Alex. Eleanor Sterling, his mother, didn’t bother to look at me as she sipped her champagne, only turning to speak with her beloved son. I honestly couldn’t blame her for disliking me, she only believed Alex deserved better. Beside me was Alex’s younger sister, Victoria or Vivi as she was called. The teenage girl was glued to her phone, tapping on the screen with her earbuds still in one ear.

I stepped closer. Close enough now that if he moved wrong, it would end. “Then give me something useful.” My voice dropped. Low. Sharp. Controlled. A beat of silence. Then he did. “You don’t fail because you’re weak.” Good. I already knew that. “You fail because you hesitate.” That— That hit. Kaelen frowned. “Hesitate? Alpha Rex doesn’t hesitate.” Ash nodded. “Yeah, that’s kind of his whole thing.” The stranger shook his head slowly.

Serena looked again. Then she saw the writing on the back. Four words. YOUR FATHER'S REAL ENEMY. Alexander slowly raised his eyes. And for the first time since Serena had met him, the ruthless billionaire looked genuinely afraid. "Serena," he whispered. "Who is he?" Alexander swallowed. Then he gave her the name she never expected to hear. "Richard Sterling." Serena stared at him. "What?" Alexander looked back at the photograph. "My father." "But you said he died." "He did."

Before I could answer, the soft click of the heavy oak door echoed through the sterile room. Alexander stepped inside, his broad shoulders filling the doorway. He had shed his tuxedo jacket, wearing only a crisp white dress shirt with the top button undone and his sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He walked toward us with slow, deliberate steps, his ice-blue eyes fixed on my father with quiet, unyielding respect. My father’s hand tightened subtly around mine as he looked at Alexander. "Alexander Sterling..." "Mr. Mercer," Alexander said, his voice a low, gravelly baritone that filled the quiet room. He halted at the edge of the bed, dipping his head slightly. "It is good to see you back amo