Watch Me Win, Alpha

Chapter 89

The way he had looked at me–calm, unreadable, then cold–like I’d overstepped just by standing there. When he mocked me for being concerned about “gossip,” I knew it wasn’t just teasing. He was reminding me of where I stood. Of who he was. Of who I wasn’t.

I’d heard that tone before. It was the same one I’d heard from strangers at the golf club that day–right before the headlines called me a gold–digger, before whispers claimed I wore that dress just to seduce my boss. I thought I’d survived that storm. But maybe I hadn’t. Maybe I’d just dressed the wounds prettier.

The difference was, this time the voice was his.

I had no words to offer him that wouldn’t sound desperate. So

I’d laughed awkwardly, pathetically–and muttered that I’d

overthought it. Then I excused myself like the fool who walked

into the wrong room and thought she belonged.

When I passed Mike in the hallway, he looked up from his

tablet and tried to smile. “Don’t take it personally. He’s… not

great at expressing himself”

I managed a stiff smile, clutching my bag tighter. “It’s fine. I just

remembered I left something on the stove.”

He tilted his head. “You don’t cook”

I laughed once under my breath and shrugged. “Just

sometimes.”

I didn’t wait for a reply. I just left.

The elevator ride down was quiet. Still. And when I stepped out

into the open air, I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t even sad. I was just… embarrassed.

I owned and sat cross–legged on the couch, staring

for Alexander. I

the kind of man people respected

someone you

along the way–between him pulling

he stood

Windsors–I’d started to

trust him, Like he might see me as more than

a temporary assistant

footing.

that was my

confused gratitude for something

me. But that didn’t make us

looked–was still someone

Peoplewouldgossip if they

stung was how quickly

of it

the couch,

illusions. No more

supposed to stay at a

distance from Alexander.

The Next Day

was halfway through picking

I didn’t

rang.

Mike.

his name made my stomach clench. I

and picked

greeted, unusually polite. “Are you busy

evening?”

at the barely touched plate

particularly. Why?”

enough for me to sense that this wasn’t