Alexander Reid did not believe in distractions.
Distractions were weaknesses,cracks in discipline that allowed chaos to seep in. And Alexander Reid had spent his entire life mastering order.
"Where is the quarterly report I requested yesterday?"
His voice was calm. Measured.
Deadly.
The boardroom went unnaturally still.
Twenty executives sat around the long glass table, the air heavy with tension. No one spoke. Fingers hovered uselessly over keyboards. Eyes dropped to screens, notes, the polished surface of the table—anywhere except Alexander's face.
"Well?" he pressed.
A bead of sweat rolled down the temple of the man seated at the far end. He cleared his throat.
"S–Sir, finance is still reviewing the final projections."he stuttered
Alexander leaned back in his chair slowly, deliberately. He clasped his hands together, elbows resting on the armrests, eyes never leaving the man.
"Reviewing," he repeated softly.
The word hung in the air like a threat.
Everyone in the room knew that tone. Calm was never a good sign.
Calm meant destruction was coming, quietly, efficiently.
"I don't pay people to review," Alexander said. "I pay them to deliver. On time. Ideally before I ask."
The man swallowed hard. "It will be ready by noon."
Alexander tilted his head slightly. "It was due at eight."
Silence.
"You see," Alexander continued, standing now, "delays cost money. They cost confidence. They cost reputation."
He straightened his suit jacket, movements precise. Controlled.
"If any of you cannot keep pace with this company," he said coolly, "then Reid Holdings is not the place for you."
A collective inhale.
"Yes, sir," the man muttered.
Alexander nodded once. "Meeting adjourned."
The scrape of chairs echoed as people rose hurriedly. Conversations were hushed, eyes downcast. No one dared linger. Fear followed Alexander as he strode toward the exit—an invisible force tightening spines and quickening steps.
Outside the boardroom, his assistant Clara fell into step beside him, tablet clutched to her chest.
"Mr. Reid, your ten o'clock meeting with the investors has been moved forward."
"Of course it has," he muttered.
She hesitated. "Your father also called."
Alexander stopped abruptly.
Clara nearly collided with him.
"No."
"He said it's urgent."
"It's always urgent," Alexander replied coldly. "Ignore it."
He resumed walking, irritation simmering beneath his composed exterior.
The elevator doors slid shut, sealing him inside a box of mirrors. His reflection stared back—perfectly groomed, impeccably dressed, untouchable.
Alexander exhaled slowly and rubbed a hand over his jaw.
And then—uninvited, unwelcome—
Her face flashed through his mind.
Flushed cheeks. Messy hair. Eyes too honest for someone drowning in alcohol.
That reckless laugh, sharp and raw and unguarded.
His jaw tightened.
"Enough," he muttered.
He hadn't thought of her since yesterday morning.
Except he had.
More than once.
The way she'd frozen when he tossed the money onto the bed. The way her chin had lifted, pride flashing through humiliation.
She hadn't taken it.
No one ever refused his money.
The elevator chimed.
Alexander stepped out, posture instantly straightening as the familiar mask slid back into place. Power. Authority. Control.
His office stretched across the top floor—glass walls framing Manhattan like it belonged to him. He dropped into his chair, opened his laptop, and began scanning reports, numbers blurring together.
Focus.
Clara's voice cut through the silence as she briefed him on the day's agenda, but her words faded into static.
Instead, another voice surfaced.
"You're quiet," she had slurred, eyes glinting with challenge. "That makes you dangerous."
Alexander slammed his laptop shut.
Clara startled. "Sir?"
"Coffee," he snapped. "Now."
She hurried out.
Alexander leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
He had slept with countless women.
Models who posed and preened. Escorts who knew the rules. Socialites who calculated the worth of a night before dawn broke.
None of them lingered in his thoughts.
None of them mattered.
So why—
He rose abruptly and walked to the window, hands braced against the glass.
Why had that night felt different?
It had been messy. Unplanned. No expectations. No negotiations.
She hadn't tried to impress him. Hadn't asked his name. Hadn't clung to him like opportunity.
She had challenged him.
"You were drunk," he told his reflection.
So was he.
Yet his body remembered her too clearly—the way she reacted to him, the way she fit against him like she belonged there.
His phone buzzed on the desk.
He ignored it.
Clara returned with the coffee, placing it carefully beside him. "The investors are waiting."
He nodded, lifting the cup.
The call was ruthless. Alexander dismantled arguments, shut down objections, commanded the virtual room with precision. By the time it ended, the deal was sealed. Applause followed.
"Well done, Mr. Reid," someone said.
Alexander ended the call without responding.
Praise meant nothing.
The silence returned.
And with it—her.
The way she'd wandered his apartment that morning, disoriented and vulnerable. Naked. Real.
He took a sharp sip of coffee, scalding his tongue.
"You don't care," he told himself.
He didn't even know her name.
Didn't want to.
And yet—the memory of her walking out, refusing his money, refusing him—
It gnawed at him.
By late afternoon, his patience wore thin. A junior executive stumbled through a presentation.
Alexander cut him off. "Are you nervous?"
The man stammered. "I—I just—"
"Because you should be," Alexander said icily. "You're wasting my time."
The man nodded frantically.
But even as Alexander spoke, his thoughts betrayed him again.
You think you're better than us?
He pressed his fingers to his temple.
Evening descended, the city igniting below him. Alexander stood alone in his office, watching headlights bleed into rivers of light.
Best night of his life.
The thought surfaced and stayed.
It unsettled him.
He had never thought that about anyone. Never allowed himself to.
Control was everything.
And yet, one nameless woman had slipped through his fingers and lodged herself beneath his skin.
His phone buzzed again.
Unknown number.
He stared at it, irritation flickering.
He didn't answer.
Instead, he set the phone down slowly, decisively.
Alexander Reid did not chase.
But for the first time in years, as the city pulsed beneath him and her memory refused to fade, he realized something deeply disturbing.