Samantha’s grip on her wine glass tightened. Alexander’s words hung between them, heavy with unspoken desire and undeniable truth.
Was it worth the risk?
Every logical part of her screamed that the answer should be no. That their night together had been a mistake—one that could jeopardize her career. But the way he was looking at her now, with that quiet intensity, made her question everything.
She swallowed hard, forcing herself to focus. "This conversation is inappropriate."
Alexander tilted his head, studying her. "Inappropriate? Or honest?"
"Both," she admitted, hating the way her voice betrayed her.
His lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk. "You’re fighting this too hard, Samantha."
"And you’re not fighting it at all," she countered.
"Because I don’t want to." His gaze darkened. "And neither do you."
Her pulse jumped. "I—"
"Tell me I’m wrong," he challenged, leaning in slightly. "Tell me you don’t think about it. About me."
She wanted to. She really did. But the words wouldn’t come.
Instead, she dropped her gaze to her plate, exhaling sharply. "This isn’t just about us," she said, forcing a professional tone. "There’s a deal at stake. People relying on me."
Alexander leaned back, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "You think I’d risk this deal over one night?"
She looked up at him. "Wouldn’t you?"
His smirk faded. "No."
That single word, spoken with quiet certainty, sent a shiver down her spine.
"You’re important, Samantha," he continued. "But not just because of this deal."
Her breath hitched.
He wasn’t just playing a game. He meant every word.
Before she could respond, Richard returned to the table, his phone still in hand. "Apologies. Crisis averted. Now, where were we?"
Samantha forced a smile, but her mind was spinning.
Where were they, indeed?
Later That Night – Samantha’s Apartment
She barely remembered the drive home. The moment she stepped into her apartment, she kicked off her heels and sank onto the couch, rubbing her temples.
What was happening to her?
She had always been focused, logical. She didn’t get distracted by men—especially not men like Alexander Wolfe.
But with him, logic didn’t stand a chance.
Her phone buzzed on the coffee table, and her breath caught when she saw his name.
Alexander Wolfe: Still fighting it?
Her heart pounded as she stared at the screen.
She should ignore him.
She should delete his number.
Instead, she found herself typing back.
Samantha Carter: Goodnight, Alexander.
Seconds later, another message came through.
Alexander Wolfe: This isn’t over, Samantha.
She closed her eyes, exhaling shakily.
The problem was… she already knew he was right.
Samantha tossed her phone onto the couch and ran a hand through her hair. She shouldn’t have responded to Alexander’s text. Engaging with him outside of work was a dangerous game, one she had no business playing.
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