Chapter 16
Alexander
I follow my parents toward the garden. A huge lake spreads, dotted with ducks and swans.
Countless apple trees line the paths, a small stage draped in white fabric stands ready for the band, and groups of tables with benches, chairs, and other sitting areas.
The adjacent hall is open, and the large event room in the main building is already packed.
Buffets are set up in several spots, while grill masters stoke their fires.
There’s something for everyone—barbecue, vegan food, salads, snacks…
And also, ice cream, whole cakes, layered cakes, and muffins.
I grab a bowl of watermelon and honeydew melon and scan the crowd. Most employees have gathered in small groups, enjoying themselves. The band takes the stage and starts playing a moment later and it’s not too loud, so conversations can continue easily.
“Well, tell me honestly, my dear son—how do you like her?” my mother asks, holding a champagne flute filled with orange juice.
“Her?” I suspect she's referring to London, but I'd rather avoid this conversation. The way she’s smiling tells me exactly where this is going.
“You know who I mean. London. She’s smart, dedicated, loyal, and pretty. You’d have the most adorable children if you got married.”
Here we go.
My father is absolutely delighted and feels validated. “That’s exactly what I told him!” Of course—the one time they agree, it has to be about this.
A server comes along, offering alcohol, and I take a glass gladly. God knows I need some champagne right now.
“You’re planning to get drunk?” my mother whispers.
“Every time you try to set me up with London, I’m drinking a glass of champagne. So, it’s up to you whether I get drunk today or not.” I raise my glass, take a good sip, and put the empty flute back on the tray.
“I was just saying you’d make a gorgeous couple, and—” she starts to backpedal.
I don’t even let the server leave before I snag another glass.
“Alex, please,” she protests, indignantly.
I don't drink it right away.
“She’s going to be my PA. I expect professionalism. From both sides.” That should make my position clear.
My mother, however, snatches the glass from my hand and puts it back on the tray before shooing the server away. “You won’t find anyone better. I’ve spent three years vetting her thoroughly.”
“You did what?” I ask, irritated.
“I know everything. Who her friends are, where her parents and brothers work, whether she has debts, her criminal record... I’m telling tell you: this woman is perfect."
I swear she won’t stop until London is carrying my child.
“Not in this lifetime, Mother. But you're still young, you could have another son if you’re so desperate to dictate someone’s life. At least until he hits puberty.”
I chuckle, amused while she gives me a death glare. That ice-cold smile with the rigid eyes is something any son should fear.
“Well, your mother isn’t that young anymore,” my father says lightly, immediately receiving the full force of her glare. “That’s not what I meant, honey,” he says with a laugh.
Time for me to make an escape and talk to other people. But as I turn, ready to disappear, London walks toward us.
That white dress with its bold blue flowers is stunning, cinched with a gold belt that matches her sandals and jewelry. Her hair falls loose around her shoulders.
Until now, I’d only seen her in athletic wear. Now, in a summer dress…
“Oh, look who’s stopping dead at the sight of London?” my mother teases as she moves beside me. “I’m already planning your wedding. The only question is—where should it be? Paris would be lovely, don’t you think?”
It’s hard to tear my gaze from London to glare at my grinning mother instead.
“I’m not a fan of France,” I say, then give London a brief nod of greeting. She glances at me a little embarrassed, brushing her hair back.
“You look fantastic,” my mother says, immediately pulling her over, while my father settles in next to us with some snacks.
“Thank you,” London answers, then looks shyly at me again.
I just nod in silence. What else can I say? She looks fantastic. Her figure is shown off perfectly, and with her hair down she looks so much more feminine. Did she change her makeup? Her lips look like a different color. My gaze lingers there for a moment before I force myself to look away.
Not good. I should definitely not be thinking about her—whether it’s in a summer dress or workout clothes.
Absolutely not.
The afternoon slips by quickly—at least for me.
Employees keep coming up to welcome me back, asking the same questions over and over, and I give them the same polite answers.
I remain friendly, respectful, professional—even though by the hundredth time I really don’t want to hear another “So how was New York?” Maybe I should’ve just sent a company-wide email beforehand.
I keep catching glimpses of London, animatedly chatting with the department heads. A few female employees are watching her with daggers in their eyes, while my mother keeps throwing me knowing glances.
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you keep watching her,” she murmurs as she passes by. Determined to put an end to this, I follow her.
“I observe everyone. Especially her. I want to know how well London gets along with the others. Seems like she’s not too popular with the women here?”
We stop at the buffet, filling our plates. I go heavy on the protein-rich foods, though I allow myself some fruit too today.
“Women in high positions are always targets for envy. And she’s attractive—and didn’t sleep her way to the top.
But of course, there are always rumors. Those women are itching to gossip, hoping for a juicy scandal.
” My mother smiles knowingly. “And now that my handsome son is in charge, they’re probably waiting to see when her belly starts to grow. ”
I sigh quietly and just walk away, which seems to amuse her. At least she’s enjoying herself. For me, this whole thing is edging toward boring.
So, I slip away. Just for a moment. The comedian has taken the stage, and I can finally breathe. Everyone’s already seen me and shaken my hand, so who’s going to notice if I disappear for a bit?
With a plate piled high and a glass of apple juice, I head inside.
The building is nearly empty, except for a few employees restocking the buffet.
At reception, I grab one of the keys and climb the stairs.
No one around. The quiet feels like heaven compared to the noise outside.
If I lie down for a while, I’ll have more energy later.
Upstairs, I unlock room 100. But behind me, I hear a sound. I turn—and there she is. London. She’s just coming out of room 99, directly across from mine.
“Most people take the lower numbers, so they don’t have to walk up the stairs. There’s no elevator here,” she says awkwardly, cheeks flushed.
“That’s why I came up here. Just wanted to rest a bit and escape the noise,” I answer. Damn, she looks really good when she’s shy like that. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
No, don’t—it looked better before.
One hand rests on her stomach. Is she okay?
“Are you alright?”
“I think I just had a little too much to drink,” she admits.
Ah. So, the flushed cheeks aren’t because of me, but the alcohol.
“There was hardly any alcohol in the champagne I had earlier,” I probe.
“I might just be on good terms with the supplier. I’ve been in touch with them for three years…” She grins. “The good stuff is somewhere else.”
“I see.” I raise my brows, surprised.
“I don’t usually drink much. Just once in a while. I was just telling my best friend today she should stop—but here I am.” She sighs, fumbling with her key ring while trying to close the door.
“Yeah, you’ve definitely had a bit too much,” I comment.
“It’s fine. I’ll just grab a coffee or two and sit somewhere.”
“Or you could lie down, and I’ll drive you home,” I offer.
“But you’ve been drinking too,” she points out.
“Just one glass of champagne. Barely any alcohol in it. I couldn’t even taste it.”
“But then you’ll miss the party,” she argues.
“It’s almost over anyway.”
“People will gossip if they don’t see us anymore…” And she’s not wrong. “I’ll mingle a little longer. Once I’m sober, I’ll drive home.” At least she’s steady on her feet.
“You’re not driving anywhere tonight. It’s obvious you’ve had too much.” I step closer. “Didn’t you say this ends by 9 at the latest? I’ll call a driver to take us both home. Then I can enjoy a few more drinks. But for you, the night’s over.”
“Is that an order?” she asks, her tone carrying something that makes me believe she’s flirting with me.
“Exactly. This is a company event—you follow your boss’s instructions.”
“But you’re not my boss until Monday.”
I give her a sharp look.
“Aye, aye, Captain.”
“Good. I’ll come get you later. Don’t forget your bag.”
“I’ll come back for it.” London nods sweetly, then heads down the hallway. She’s still walking straight. Good.
I take a deep breath and step into my room, closing the door. Dropping onto the bed, I stare at the ceiling.
Should I have pushed her to stay? We could’ve talked. But no—I can’t let myself get caught up in this. It’s just a crazy thought, nothing more. Yes, she’s hot, and yes, the temptation to sleep with her is real. But it would destroy our working relationship—and brutally so.