The Promotion

Chapter Thirteen

The drive to the business drinks felt longer than it actually was.

Silence filled the limo, thick and heavy, broken only by the soft hum of the engine and the occasional vibration from Alexander's phone. I sat upright, hands folded neatly in my lap, staring straight ahead while my thoughts raced in every direction. Every now and then, I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. Each time, his attention was fixed on his screen, brows slightly furrowed, jaw set in that calm, controlled way of his.

My mind, however, refused to cooperate.

Calum's face—his shock, his guilt, the image of that room—kept forcing itself forward. I pressed my lips together, swallowing hard as the sting behind my eyes threatened to spill over. I forced myself to breathe slowly, silently begging the tears to stay where they were.

After what felt like an eternity, the limo finally slowed.

"We're here, Mr Pierce," the driver announced as he stepped out to open the door.

Alexander looked up and nodded, slipping his phone away. He gestured for me to go first.

I shifted carefully, smoothing my dress as I moved, mindful of the daring slit along my thigh. The cool air kissed my skin as I stepped out, and instinctively I adjusted the fabric before lifting my gaze.

The sight stole my breath.

A grand mansion loomed before us, elegant and imposing, nestled deep within the woods. Cream-coloured stone glowed under warm lighting, tall brown-framed windows revealing a world of laughter and movement inside. Through the glass, I could see people mingling with drinks in hand, silhouettes drifting across chandeliers and polished floors. Surrounding it all—nothing but towering trees and darkness.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Alexander's voice was close, low and soothing near my ear. I hadn't realised how close he'd stepped until I felt the warmth of him behind me, his presence unmistakable. His hand moved slightly, not quite touching, yet I felt it all the same.

"I didn't think places like this existed outside of films," I murmured honestly.

"This is Charles Moore's estate," he said, stepping around to face me. "He hosts these gatherings. He's... influential. And very good at what he does."

"I can't wait to meet him," I said lightly, though my stomach fluttered with nerves.

Alexander studied me for a moment, then lifted his hand, tilting my chin upward gently so my eyes met his.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly. "You seem distant."

Caught, I forced a smile. "I'm fine. Really. Shall we?"

His hand dropped, but his gaze lingered for half a second longer. Then he offered his arm. I slipped mine through it, the gesture feeling oddly intimate, and together we walked toward the towering doors.

Inside, warmth and sound enveloped us instantly. Classical music drifted through the room, blending with laughter and conversation. The space resembled a ballroom—opulent, refined—yet softened by bespoke furniture and clusters of guests. To my left, a polished bar gleamed, drinks flowing freely.

"Mr Pierce!"

A deep, gravelly voice cut through the noise.

A man in his fifties approached us, drink in one hand, cigar in the other. Despite his age, he carried himself with authority—tall, confident, commanding attention without effort. His dark hair was flecked with grey, his sharp eyes assessing everything.

Alexander released my arm and embraced him warmly.

"Louisa," Alexander said, turning back to me, "this is Charles Moore. Charles, my new assistant—Louisa Watts."

So this was him.

Charles took my hand, his grip lingering as he pressed a kiss against my skin. His eyes travelled slowly, deliberately, making my discomfort rise.

"A pleasure," he said, his gaze lingering far too long.

"Likewise," I replied tightly, withdrawing my hand and clasping it by my side.

"If you'll excuse me," I said quickly, "I'll grab us some drinks."

Alexander met my eyes, his expression steady. "Whisky, please."

I nodded and turned, breathing out sharply once I was out of Charles's immediate presence.

At the bar, I ordered Alexander's drink—and then my gaze drifted to the vodka.

The ache in my chest surged again. The memories. The betrayal. The humiliation.

Just one.

I downed the first shot quickly, welcoming the burn. Then another. And another. The edge dulled, just enough to quiet the storm.

I returned with Alexander's whisky and my own drink, forcing a smile.

As the alcohol settled, my balance wavered slightly—but I stayed upright.

"I'm going to greet a few people," Alexander said quietly, his hand brushing my back as he moved away. The contact sent a jolt through me, unwelcome yet undeniable.

Charles turned his full attention back to me.

"So," he drawled, "Alexander's new assistant. How's that treating you?"

"It's... enlightening," I said cautiously.

He stepped closer. Too close.

"You should come for breakfast sometime," he said. "Let me show you around properly."

My stomach turned.

"I'll check Alexander's schedule," I said quickly, draining my glass before escaping back to the bar.

This time, I didn't stop at one.

Shots blurred together. The music dulled. The world slowed.

Eventually, I rested my forehead against the bar, exhaustion and numbness washing over me.

I heard my name. Felt a hand on my shoulder. Strong. Familiar.

The next thing I knew, I was leaning into someone, my body supported effortlessly.

I smiled weakly, eyes barely open.

"Alexander," I murmured.

His arms tightened slightly, steady and secure. I rested my head against his neck, breathing him in.

For the first time that night, I felt safe.

And I didn't want to move.

A/N

Alexander is always the one to notice something is wrong! He is the best! Who agrees?

Anyone getting weird vibes from Charles?

Louisa and alcohol not a good combination... but Alexander to the rescue!!

Don't forget to comment and vote!

Love _xxAMxx