Chapter 6

Alexander's assistant flinched as the sound of glass shattering filled the air.

His gaze darted from the glittering shards of what had been an eight-thousand-dollar Baccarat crystal glass to his boss's rigid posture. Alexander sat perfectly still, his eyes burning with cold fire, fixed on something—or someone—beyond the panoramic windows of the yacht's VIP lounge.

"Sir," the assistant began cautiously, his voice hushed. "That was… quite an expensive glass. Was it really necessary to take your frustration out on it?"

That little toss just cost more than two days of his salary.

Alexander didn't bother to look at him.

"It's mine to break," he replied, his voice dangerously soft. "If I wish to break it, I will."

Having worked for Alexander for five intense months, Jeremy knew his boss had no concept of monetary value.

Born into old money and a self-made empire, Alexander dealt in figures so vast that eight thousand dollars was a rounding error. Still, Jeremy's frugal heart ached—a trait ingrained in him by his grandmother, no matter how many luxuries this job exposed him to.

"Of course, it's yours to handle as you see fit, Sir. But such… public displays could attract the wrong kind of attention. The tabloids might spin stories if they caught wind of this."

Alexander finally turned, his gaze sharp enough to cut glass. "What stories?"

Jeremy swallowed hard. Why did he open his mouth? But he knew he had to answer. Based on what—or whom—his boss had been staring at so intensely, it wasn't hard to guess the cause.

"They might… speculate that you're upset over a woman. That perhaps you… desire someone you cannot have?"

"Ridiculous!"

The word was a whip crack, colder and fiercer than a winter storm.

Yet, against his own will, Alexander's eyes were drawn back to her.

Even in the crowded salon, Mirena stood out—a splash of sharp elegance in a sea of calculated glamour. His gaze traveled over her once more, tracing the way the leather skirt hugged her hips, how the crop top revealed just a hint of skin.

Desire her? Had he lost his mind?

However, the next second, his jaw tightened.

Below, Logan leaned in, his lips close to Mirena's ear. She listened, then tipped her head back and laughed—a sight so effortless and bright it struck Alexander like a physical blow.

His eyes twitched.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees instantly. Jeremy didn't need anyone to tell him his boss's mood had just darkened further.

His mind raced, debating whether he should say something. If the boss is really interested in the woman downstairs, standing here brooding won't help. But reason warned him that voicing that thought might cost him his job. Despite the endless overtime and his boss's… demanding nature, the salary and benefits were exceptional. He wasn't ready to be unemployed.

"Jeremy." Alexander's voice cut through the silence.

"Yes, sir?" Jeremy replied, his voice tighter than he intended.

"How long have you been with me?"

"Five months and three days," Jeremy answered, fighting to keep his tone even. "I'm the longest-serving new assistant you've had in the past two years."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, sir." Jeremy's heart hammered against his ribs. So this is it. He was really going to be fired. "Are you… letting me go?"

Alexander raised a brow but didn't answer. His new assistant was capable—exceptionally so—but his train of thought could be… unconventional.

As if deciding he had nothing left to lose, Jeremy squeezed his eyes shut and made one final plea.

"If you've decided to terminate me, I understand it must be due to my shortcomings. But given that I've been on call 24/7 without fail these past months, I'd respectfully request—beyond the standard severance—that the company cover my future therapy sessions. Working for you has been… deeply instructive, but psychologically… taxing."

A slight, almost imperceptible tremor in his voice seemed to amuse Alexander. "Who said anything about firing you?"

"You… you didn't mean that?" Jeremy's eyes flew open, wide with surprise.

"No. As you pointed out, you're the most competent assistant I've had in years. You'd be even better if you learned to filter your thoughts."

"In that case, sir… does this mean I'm getting a raise?" Jeremy ventured, hope flickering in his voice.

A dry laugh escaped Alexander. "You don't hesitate to push your luck, do you?" He picked up a file from the table and tossed it toward him. "Your raise depends on this. Handle the project. If you fail, don't bother coming back."

"Thank you, sir! I won't let you down!" Jeremy bowed dramatically. But as he turned to leave, he couldn't resist a final, well-intentioned murmur. "Sir, if you really are interested in that lady, perhaps I could—"

"Would you prefer I fire you after all?" Alexander's voice was deceptively calm, yet carried undeniable authority.

"Absolutely not, sir!" In a blink, Jeremy vanished from the room.

Silence returned, and Alexander finally felt a sense of quiet settle over the space. Shaking his head slightly, he allowed his gaze to drift once more toward the salon below.

A muscle twitched in Alexander's jaw as he watched Logan's hand slide along Mirena's shoulders, fingers drumming against her skin in a rhythm that spoke of easy familiarity.

That same skin he had felt just hours before.

His temple throbbed as the memory rushed back—the image of her walking into the bathroom, unclothed and unashamed, had left him standing under an ice-cold shower for a full hour, wrestling with a desire he refused to name.

Even now, as he recalled the image of her body, curves tracing the right angles with skin as white as milk, he felt his trousers tighten.

And to think George had taken her for granted. For five whole years?

For a fleeting moment, he entertained the idea of making George disappear. Almost as quickly, he dismissed it.

Alexander closed his eyes, tilting his head back against the chair as the past washed over him.

The inter-college finance competition. He, the undisputed leader. Victory, a foregone conclusion.

…Until her.

Mirena. The scholarship student from nowhere, sharper than anyone he'd ever faced. The first person who didn't flinch at his name or his wealth. The only one who ever looked him in the eye and smirked.

"So you're the famous Alexander Pierce," she'd said, her voice all cool challenge. "Try to keep up."

He'd leaned in, close enough that only she could hear. "Don't worry, little rival. I'll be the one teaching you a lesson."

That was the beginning. The rivalry. The obsession.

Now, his gaze softened almost imperceptibly as he watched her below. Chandelier light caught in her hair, outlining her in a halo of gold that made his breath catch.

And then—as if feeling the weight of his stare—Mirena turned.

Their eyes locked.

A current, sharp and undeniable, crackled between them. Alexander's chest tightened. But in the next heartbeat, she turned back to Logan as if Alexander were nothing more than a stranger in the shadows.

For the first time in years, he felt invisible.

A slow, dangerous smile curved his lips. He chuckled softly, lowering his head.

It's been too long since I've gambled, he thought, rising to his feet. Time to remind Mirena exactly who she's dealing with.