CHAPTER 56

 Beatrice's POV.

All I knew as I walked into the office that morning is that I was going to take on Xander.

He’d avoided me for the last two days. Not in the blatant, in-your-face way, but in subtle, calculated moves that left me little choice but to notice. There were no wayward glances across the office, no charged silences sparking between us. Not even a casual brushing of fingers or the well-known heat that always simmered when we occupied the same space.

As if everything that was said and done in Cape Town never happened.

Like it had never mattered at all.

I was done being patient.

Bursting toward his office, I barely noticed the curious looks from staffers as I flung the door open without knocking.

Xander was at his desk, scanning files, feigning indifference. He hardly even looked up at my abrupt entrance.

“Beatrice,” he acknowledged flatly.

That was it. No warmth. No teasing. Just cold detachment.

Something inside me snapped.

I slammed the door behind me, the noise reverberating through the office. “Are you really still ignoring me?”

Xander sighed, putting his papers down for the first time, but surprise didn’t flicker across his face. It was as if he had been waiting for this confrontation. “I’m not ignoring you, Beatrice.

I folded my arms and squinted. “Then what you call it, the silent treatment, huh? You hardly looked at me on the way back.”

“I’ve been doing a lot,” he said, no inflection in his voice.

I let out a bitter scoff. "Bullshit."

His eyes snapped to mine, sharp and warning, but I wouldn’t back down.

I got closer, blood pounding in my ears. “I don’t know what’s going on,” I went on, the volume of my voice lower but no less insistent, “but one thing is very clear: do not stand there and pretend nothing happened. We spent days together, Xander. You opened up to me. And now, suddenly, you’re treating me like I don’t exist.”

His jaw tightened, the muscle there ticking as he turned his eyes elsewhere. "You’re overthinking it."

I laughed humorlessly, the sound bitter even to my own ears. "Oh, I’m overthinking? Oh, what, Cape Town was just a brief slip for you?”

His hands found fists on the desk, but he didn’t respond.

I hated the ache in my chest, the disappointment seeping through me like acid in my stomach. I had told myself that whatever we shared — those stolen, brief moments — mattered. That, for once, I wasn’t alone in feeling this attraction between us.

But maybe I had been wrong.

“Xander, look at me,” I said, barely above a whisper.

For a moment, he didn’t move. And then slowly he did raise his eyes up to me. His face was inscrutable, his black eyes impassive, behind an iron wall.

“Forget about it,” he said, his voice cold. "It’s nothing."

I sucked in a sharp breath.

Nothing?

My heart stuttered, something inside me cracking so painfully that I nearly recoiled.

Nothing.

That’s what he was calling it.

The stolen glances. The lingering touches. How his voice had softened telling me things I knew he never told anyone else. The way he made me feel — seen, wanted, important.

I folded my arms down by my sides, trying to keep myself upright when all I wanted to do was fall apart.

“Wow,” I said, shaking my head. "You know what? I thought you were different. “I thought I was finally getting to know the real you.”

For a brief second — for just a cast of a moment — something flashed in his face. Guilt. Regret. Something real.

Then there it was and then it was gone, buried under the same cold indifference.

“Go home, Beatrice,” he mumbled.

I stared at him, searching his face, praying for something — anything — to indicate that he didn’t mean it. That he wasn’t rejecting me for good.

But all I saw was a man who had his mind made up.

I swallowed, blinking back the sting in my eyes. “I deserve an answer, Xander.”

He sucked in air, jaw working, fingers balling into fists once more.

For a brief moment, I thought he would speak. That I could have something to cling to.

But he didn’t.

He just sat there. Silent.

Like I didn’t matter.

Like we didn’t matter.

The weight of it crushed me.

I nodded slowly, stepping back, my throat filled. "Fine," I murmured. "If that’s what you want."

Then, wordlessly, I turned and left, closing the door gently after me.

And this time I didn’t look back.”

The Encounter

The silence was more painful than any rejection.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, fighting back the sting in my eyes.

“Fine,” I said through gritted teeth, struggling to keep my voice even. “That’s how you want to play it, then I’m done.”

I said nothing more, turned and stormed out of his office, slamming the steel door that enclosed his cramped cubicle behind me.

I didn’t even notice the curious looks from employees as I walked down the hallway. I got angry all over again; my whole body hummed with it, the hurt simmering just under the surface. I had anticipated Xander would fight back, say something — anything — that would refute the icy, blunt manner he had rejected me.

But he hadn’t.

He’d allowed me to walk away without even a second glance.

By the time I got to my own office, I was shaking. I dropped into my chair, wheezing a deep breath, hoping the flame in my chest would subside. I needed to focus. I had work to do. But even with all of my willpower and everything I did to push it away, my mind kept replaying the conversation with Xander, again and again, like some cruel, broken record.

Why is he pushing me away?

I did not believe Cape Town had meant nothing to him. It had been something in the way he had looked at me, in the way he had held me, like I was the only thing in the world that moved the needle.

And yet now he was treating me like I was a stranger.

As if it had all never happened.

A hard pang stabbed through my chest, and I clenched my jaw, trying to swallow away the hurt.

Fine. If he wanted to do this, then so be it. I wasn’t about to plead for his attention.

I kept myself busy working the rest of the day, dragging myself through emails, meetings, and reports. I answered questions, scheduled calls and reviewed documents with painstaking detail. But no matter how hard I tried, my heart wasn’t in it. Everything seemed bland, dead — like I was merely going through the motions.

By the time evening came, I was burnt out. Emotionally. Physically.

I needed air.

I decided to walk home rather than take the normal way. New Jersey’s streets had still been busier, the city alive with people even as the sky grew darker. People rushed past me, cars honked in the distance, and the distant smell of coffee and street food hung in the cool night air.

I took a deep breath, and tried to clear my mind.

I was only a few blocks away when a voice froze me in my tracks.

"Miss Emberlyn."

I froze.

That voice — smooth, calculating, laced with amusement.

I turned slowly; my stomach churned when I saw the man slouched against a black, polished car.

Robert Lee.

Great. Just what I needed.

His hands shoved in the pockets of his tailored coat, a smirk that he made his own firmly in place. He always put me on edge for some reason. Perhaps it was the way he presented himself — too cocky, too certain of his ability to bend the world to his will.

I folded my arms, straightening 

His smirk widened. “Relax. I’m not here to make trouble.”

I scoffed. “Forgive me if I don’t go for that.”

He chuckled, tilting his head slightly. “Alright, fine. I’ll get to the point.” He gestured to the café on the other side of the street. “Care for a coffee? “I have an offer you can’t refuse.

My entire body tensed.

An offer?

The way he said it sent a ripple of unease down my spine.

His voice was too smooth, too practiced — as if he already knew what my answer would be. As if he had already played and won this game.

I should walk away. I knew I should.

It was not the kind of man you entertained and certainly not alone.

He was dangerous in ways that Xander was not. Where Xander radiated brute strength and animal magnetism, Robert was all smooth practicality, every action deliberate, every syllable spun like a web to ensnare the unwary.

And yet—

Curiosity gnawed at me.

What on earth could he want from me?

He was Alpha Lee’s son, a man who prospered at the edges of his father’s empire, a man who always seemed to have his hands in whatever scheme was taking shape. And now, here he was, in the middle of the street, acting like I was the one who needed something from him.

Why?

What did he think was the offer I had?

My fists balled at my sides, staring at him, hoping to find the answer in the cocky smirk that he wore so easily.

His eyes were fixed, steady, unblinking, as if he were watching the war unfold in my brain and was waiting, patiently, for me to lose.

I should just turn and leave.

I should.

But then, that would also be missing an opportunity to get ahead.

And in my universe, knowledge was power.

Robert was dangling something — an unnamed deal — up a carrot in ballet terms — in front of me. And if there was so much as a remote possibility that it might help me, or offer me leverage in the ever-rising tempest that assailed Xander, Alpha Lee, and me…

Then I needed to hear it.

Even if it came with a price.

Even if, on some level, I knew that nothing came free with Robert Lee.

I exhaled slowly and held my head up.

“Fine,” I said, my voice untroubled, despite the wave of unease curling in my gut. “One coffee. But please if you waste my time, I walk.”

His smirk widened, his eyes shiny as a predator that has just managed to lure its prey into a horrible trap.

“Oh, Miss Emberlyn,” he said, taking a step back and gesturing to the café. “I’ll tell you, you’re going to like this.”

I wasn’t so sure about that.

But as I walked behind him across the street, I knew I was going to find out.

my features. “What do you want?”

Robert laughed, shaking his head. “No pleasantries? No hello?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Cut the crap, Robert. Why are you here?”