The morning after the office happy hour, I woke up with an unusual sense of clarity. The air in my apartment felt lighter, my thoughts less tangled than they had been all week. Last night had been a turning point.
For too long, I had allowed Alexander Blackwood to exist in my head as some untouchable force, an inevitable presence that dictated the rhythm of my days. But I saw through him now through the games, the calculated tension, the way he thrived on control.
And I had taken a step in the opposite direction.
I stood my ground. I refused to be a pawn in whatever silent battle he was waging.
Today, I was going to prove that to myself again.
The office buzzed with the usual Monday morning energy phones ringing, keyboards clicking, hurried footsteps echoing through the halls. I strode in, coffee in hand, head high.
A few coworkers greeted me as I walked past, and I returned their smiles, feeling more at ease than I had in weeks.
But then, as expected, I felt it.
The weight of his gaze.
I didn't look up immediately. I didn't give in to the magnetic pull that always seemed to draw me to him. Instead, I made it to my desk, set my things down, and logged into my computer as if nothing in the world was out of place.
Only then did I glance toward his office.
Alexander stood behind his glass wall, watching. Not in the usual predatory way, not with the smirk that had once unsettled me but with something closer to curiosity. As if he was trying to figure me out, to decipher what had changed between us.
I didn't let him have that moment.
Lifting my chin slightly, I turned away and focused on my work.
It wasn't until lunchtime that he made his move.
I was in the break room, scrolling through emails while waiting for the coffee machine to finish brewing. The room was mostly empty just me and a couple of interns whispering in the corner.
Then he walked in.
I felt him before I saw him. The sudden stillness in the air. The way the interns immediately straightened, as if in the presence of someone too powerful to ignore.
I refused to be one of them.
"Miss Carter." His voice was smooth, deliberate.
I didn't rush to answer. Instead, I calmly poured my coffee, stirring in a little cream before finally turning to him. "Mr. Blackwood."
His lips twitched at my tone. "I wasn't expecting you at the happy hour on Friday."
I took a slow sip of my coffee. "I wasn't expecting to go."
His eyes narrowed slightly, like he was searching for something in my expression. "And yet, you did."
I met his gaze head-on. "Yes. Because I wanted to."
For a second, silence stretched between us, charged with an unspoken challenge.
I knew what he was doing pushing, testing, seeing if I would slip back into the uncertainty I had before. But I wouldn't.
He exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head slightly. "You're different today."
I set my cup down, leveling him with a steady look. "No, Alexander. I'm just done playing along."
His name rolled off my tongue before I could stop it. It was the first time I had said it out loud. Not Mr. Blackwood. Not sir. Just Alexander.
It shifted something in the room.
For a brief moment, I saw something flicker in his expression not annoyance, not amusement, but something raw. Something real.
And then, just as quickly, it was gone.
I turned before he could respond, walking past him with purpose.
I didn't need a victory. I just needed to reclaim my space.
And I had.
That afternoon, I focused harder than ever. I buried myself in my work, hitting every deadline, responding to every email with precision. It felt good to be competent, to be seen for something other than the tension that existed between us.
I was reviewing a client contract when a message popped up on my screen.
Alexander Blackwood: My office. Now.
I inhaled sharply, my fingers tightening around my mouse.
For a moment, I considered ignoring it. But I knew that wasn't an option - not because I feared him, but because I was ready for whatever this was.
I stood, smoothing my blouse, and made my way to his office.
When I entered, he was standing by the window, his back to me.
"I'm busy," I said before he could speak. "Is this important?"
He turned, his eyes sharp. "Sit."
I remained standing. "I prefer to stand."
His lips pressed together, and for the first time, I saw it not dominance, not control, but frustration.
Good. Let him feel it for once.
"You're pushing me," he finally said.
I tilted my head. "No, I'm just not letting you push me."
Silence stretched between us, different from before. There was no teasing now, no amusement. Just two people standing on equal ground for the first time.
And then, something unexpected happened.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair as if he were… tired. "I admire that about you, you know."
I blinked. "What?"
"You don't back down," he said simply. "Most people do."
I exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking my head. "I'm not most people, Alexander."
"No," he agreed, his gaze steady. "You're not."
For a moment, something passed between us something unspoken, something neither of us knew how to name.
But I wasn't going to dwell on it.
I straightened. "Was there anything else, or can I get back to work?"
His lips twitched, but this time, there was something genuine behind it. "Go."
And just like that, I left.
That night, I sat in my apartment, sipping a glass of wine as I replayed the day's events in my head.
For the first time since meeting Alexander Blackwood, I felt free.
Not because I had won, not because I had put him in his place.
But because I had finally put myself first.
And that was something no one not even a man like him could take away from me.
I didn't know what came next. I didn't know if he would keep trying to challenge me, if the tension between us would fade or grow.
But I did know one thing.
Whatever happened, I was ready.
For the first time in a long time, I wasn't afraid of the game.
Because now, I knew the power had been mine all along.