Morning light spilled across Alexandra's desk, catching the edge of her pen as it tapped absentmindedly against a stack of reports. The city hummed softly outside, but inside, her mind was still stuck in last night's gala—the glittering chandeliers, the laughter, and, of course, Sam.
She took a slow sip of coffee, trying to focus on numbers and deadlines, but every time her eyes drifted to the skyline, she saw Sam standing at the podium, radiant and impossible, and Alexandra couldn't help the quiet laugh that escaped her. Million-dollar negotiations? Easy. A single glance from Sam? Near disaster.
The soft click of the door handle followed a polite knock, pulling her back to the present.
Gwen stepped in—tablet in hand, posture perfectly straight.
"Ms. Alex, here are the reports from the finance department," she said, placing a neatly bound folder on the desk. "Also, you have a lunch meeting with the President of Reynolds Group."
Alexandra glanced up from her notes, arching a brow.
"At what time should I be there?"
"Twelve noon sharp, Ms. Alex."
"Do I have any free time at all today, Gwen?" Alexandra asked, half-joking, half-praying for mercy.
Gwen scrolled through the digital planner, eyes flicking quickly over the screen.
"Actually, ma'am... not really. Even after office hours, you're fully booked. At two, you're meeting the new client. At four-thirty, you'll attend Mr. Howard's hotel branch opening. And at six, the New Port Conference with Ms. Holloway."
Alexandra sighed, leaning back in her leather chair. "What a day."
Just as Gwen turned to leave, Alexandra's phone buzzed across the glass desk. The caller ID flashed Sam.
A faint, unbidden smile curved Alexandra's lips before she picked up.
"Yes, Sam?"
"Hey," came Sam's voice, smooth and teasing through the receiver. "Are you free today?"
Alexandra's brows lifted in amusement.
"Yes, I'm completely free all day. Why?"
Out of the corner of her eye, Gwen's head snapped up, eyes wide in disbelief. Alexandra caught the look and smothered a laugh, keeping her tone effortlessly casual.
"Oh yeah, you should be free anytime I ask for you," Sam continued. "You're being paid, remember?"
Alexandra bit her lip, suppressing a grin.
"Yes, I know. So, what's this about?"
"Meet me at the mall," Sam said. "I'll be there at twelve."
"Yeah, sure. I'll be there."
"Good. See you."
"See you," Alexandra replied softly before ending the call.
The office fell silent again—except for the faint hum of the air conditioner and Gwen's stunned blinking.
Alexandra looked up, one corner of her mouth curving in mischief.
"Cancel all my appointments for today, Gwen. I'll have Stacy cover the meetings. Thank you."
Gwen froze, eyes darting to her tablet as if she'd misheard.
"C–cancel... all of them, Ms. Alex?"
"All of them," Alexandra said lightly, standing and slipping into her blazer. "Tell the President of Reynolds to enjoy his lunch with the CEO instead."
She grabbed her phone, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor as she headed for the door.
"I—I'll inform everyone," Gwen managed, still blinking in disbelief.
Alexandra paused at the doorway, tossing her a quick, knowing smile.
"Good girl, Gwen. Try not to look so shocked—I'm allowed one spontaneous day, aren't I?"
And with that, she was gone—the echo of her heels fading down the corridor, leaving Gwen staring at the empty office, utterly speechless.
-
The mall buzzed with the low hum of conversation, the echo of footsteps against marble, and the faint scent of brewed coffee drifting from nearby cafés. Alexandra arrived first—sleek, confident, a quiet contrast to the crowd. She checked her watch, then scanned the entrances.
Through the glass doors, Sam appeared—poised, elegant in a cream blouse and black slacks, simplicity made to look effortless. Alexandra's lips curved.
"You're late," she said as Sam approached.
"I'm right on time," Sam replied, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "You just like being early to prove a point."
Alexandra chuckled. "Maybe I just like watching you walk toward me."
Sam gave her a pointed look but didn't respond. "Let's eat before you start flirting in public."
They settled in a quiet corner of a restaurant—warm lighting, soft jazz, and the gentle clinking of cutlery. A waiter approached with a practiced smile.
"Good afternoon, ladies. May I recommend our lunch special? It's a meal for two—perfect for couples."
Alexandra leaned back, eyes glinting with mischief. She glanced at Sam, then at the waiter.
"Oh, that sounds perfect," she said sweetly. "Right, babe?"
Sam froze, eyes narrowing sharply. "We're not a couple," she said flatly, shooting the Alexandra a sharp look.
The waiter immediately blushed. "Ah—my apologies, Miss. I'll bring two individual menus instead."
Alexandra grinned, trying to hide it. "Relax, Sam. It was a joke."
"You think everything's a joke."
"Only when you make it this easy," Alexandra said, laughing softly.
Sam exhaled, pretending to be annoyed, though a faint warmth crept into her cheeks.
Their food arrived—pasta, salad, warm bread—and the conversation flowed more easily: light teasing, sarcastic quips about Nana's matchmaking, and laughter neither wanted to admit felt good.
Midway through lunch, Alexandra noticed a tiny speck of sauce at the corner of Sam's lips.
"Hold still," she said quietly.
"What—?" Sam barely had time to ask before Alexandra reached across the table, her thumb brushing gently against Sam's lower lip.
The touch was fleeting, tender, and unexpectedly intimate. The sounds of the restaurant faded, leaving only the soft rhythm of their breathing.
Sam's eyes met hers, sharp yet vulnerable for a heartbeat. "There," Alexandra murmured, thumb lingering a fraction too long.
Sam blinked, then leaned back abruptly, her composure snapping into place. "You didn't have to do that," she said, voice clipped, though not as steady as before.
Alexandra smiled softly. "I didn't mind."
Sam cleared her throat, lifting her glass as a shield. "Eat your food, Alex."
"Yes, ma'am."
The rest of the meal passed with quieter conversation, the simmering tension beneath their casual remarks unspoken but present.
When the plates were cleared, Sam straightened, placing her napkin neatly beside her plate.
"All right," she said briskly. "Next item—we're getting you a dress."
Alexandra blinked. "A dress?"
"For the reunion," Sam said, her gaze sweeping over Alexandra's simple outfit. "You can't show up like that. It's a family event, not a casual outing."
Alexandra laughed lightly. "Simple clothes suit me just fine, don't they?"
The truth was, Alexandra's closet was a museum of designer labels—silk, cashmere, and couture she could pull together in her sleep. But with Sam? She'd gone undercover in denim. Simple jeans, a white tee, sneakers—the "girl-next-door" starter pack.
Sam knew her that way, and Alexandra intended to keep it that way.
"I'm not saying simple doesn't suit you," Sam said, standing from her chair with that CEO posture that made Alexandra's pulse misbehave. "But for this event... if you're going to be seen as my girlfriend, you need to look the part. I don't want anyone to overlook you."
Alexandra's lips twitched. "So basically, you want me to stun them all so they think, 'Wow, how did Sam pull her?'"
Sam blinked. "That's... not exactly what I meant."
"Mm-hmm." Alexandra grinned, crossing her arms. "You sure? Because that's what it sounded like."
Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Just—dress appropriately. Elegant. Something that says serious relationship, not ran out of clean laundry."
Alexandra gasped dramatically. "Excuse me, this shirt is emotionally supportive and has been with me through hard times."
Sam gave her a look that could have withered plants. "Alex."
"Fine," Alexandra said, grinning. "I'll find something decent. But you don't have to buy me anything, I—"
She didn't get to finish. Sam's hand gripped her arm, warm and firm.
"Come on," Sam said, already steering her toward the exit. "No debate. We're buying you a dress."
Alexandra stumbled after her, half laughing. "Bossy, aren't we?"
"You're getting paid to listen," Sam replied without glancing back.
"And yet," Alexandra said, grinning, "I'm starting to think you just like holding my arm."
Sam didn't respond—but she didn't let go, either.
The restaurant noise faded behind them, replaced by the hum of shoppers and the rhythmic click of Alexandra's heels against the tiled floor. When they passed a glass storefront, Alexandra caught their reflection—Sam leading, her arm looped in Sam's, her face soft with laughter.
They looked, for one fleeting second, like a real couple.
And that thought stayed with her, warm and a little dangerous, as Sam tugged her gently toward the next boutique.
--
The boutique smelled of expensive leather, polished wood, and faint perfume—the unmistakable signature of designer elegance. Mannequins in the window wore flowing gowns and structured silhouettes, and the soft chime of the entrance bell marked their arrival.
Alexandra followed Sam inside, her hand brushing lightly against Sam's arm. Sam felt a flicker of awareness she immediately tried to suppress.
"Relax," Sam said, voice firm but calm. "We'll make this quick. You need something that fits the occasion—not just looks good on a mannequin."
Alexandra smirked, tilting her head. "You sound like a fashion dictator. Should I salute too?"
"Just try the dresses," Sam said, ignoring the jab, though her pulse thrummed unexpectedly.
A boutique assistant appeared, holding a stack of carefully folded gowns. Alexandra's eyes widened. "Am I supposed to try all of these?"
"Yes," Sam said simply, "and no whining."
Dress after dress, Alexandra emerged: a soft silk sheath in champagne, a deep emerald gown, a playful sequined cocktail dress, a dramatic off-shoulder navy number. Sam's eyes tracked every movement, every playful gesture, every laugh that reached too close. She told herself to focus, to think of nothing but the dress, but the flutter in her chest betrayed her.
"This one makes me look like a Christmas tree!" Alexandra tossed over her shoulder, a teasing glint in her eye. "Are we impressing Nana or the United Nations?"
Finally, Alexandra stepped out in a golden gown. The fabric hugged her just right, shimmering under the boutique lights, making her seem almost untouchably radiant. Sam froze, her heart hammering. She could barely breathe. Everything else—every gown, every critique—vanished.
Alexandra adjusted the strap on her shoulder. Sam's hand moved of its own accord, brushing it lightly. The contact was electric. She stepped back immediately, chastising herself, but her gaze lingered.
"There," Sam murmured, almost to herself, "perfect."
Alexandra tilted her head, a faint smile teasing at the corners of her lips. "You're awfully meticulous, boss. Or maybe just... distracted?"
Sam's throat went dry. Neutral. Professional. Focus. But every glance, every subtle curve of Alexandra's silhouette, pulled at her attention.
"Let's get this one," Sam said firmly, yet even as the words left her mouth, she couldn't stop the racing in her chest.
The gown shimmered—but Alexandra outshone it. Every sway, every subtle smile, seemed designed to undo her composure.