The dinner was held in one of London's most exclusive venues, a restaurant tucked into a restored Georgian townhouse. Chandeliers glowed above polished oak floors, and the tables were draped in linen so crisp it could've cut glass. The kind of place where Lily felt like even breathing too loudly might be billed to Knight Enterprises.
As she stepped out of the car, her heels clicked unevenly against the cobblestone. She smoothed the front of her blazer dress nervously, whispering to herself, Don't trip. Don't trip. Don't you dare trip.
"You look like you're about to storm a battlefield," Alex said quietly as they approached the door.
"Same difference," Lily muttered. "Only this battlefield has wine glasses and forks I don't know how to use."
The faintest glimmer of amusement crossed his eyes before his face returned to its usual unreadable mask.
___________
Inside, the dining room buzzed with the low hum of polished accents and quiet power. Investors, executives, and dignitaries filled the long table. Lily's nerves doubled when she realized she was seated next to a man whose cufflinks probably cost more than her car.
She sat stiffly, fingers brushing the wrong fork before yanking her hand back. Play it cool. You belong here. Sort of. Okay, not really.
Alex, across the table, looked perfectly at ease, his posture regal, his words sharp and measured as he exchanged greetings. Every so often, his eyes flicked toward her — just a glance, nothing more — but it was enough to steady her racing pulse.
___________
The man beside her introduced himself with a firm handshake. "Edward Harrington. And you are…?" His gaze flicked briefly to her place card, then back at her with faintly raised brows. "An assistant?"
Lily's throat tightened. "Lily Carter," she managed, forcing a smile. "Yes, Alex's assistant. But… here to learn more about the merger."
Harrington chuckled, dismissive. "Well, let's hope the important matters stay in the hands of the executives, eh?"
Heat rose to Lily's cheeks. For a moment, she considered shrinking back into silence. But then she remembered Alex's clipped words earlier: Investors value authenticity.
So she took a breath and leaned in slightly. "True. But sometimes fresh eyes catch things seasoned ones miss. Like when my neighbor installed a new security system and forgot the back door was unlocked. Guess who noticed?"
Harrington blinked, then laughed despite himself. "Well then, Ms. Carter, let's hope you're guarding the back door for us tonight."
The ice cracked.
___________
Dinner progressed — multiple courses, endless small talk. Lily stumbled over a few terms at first, fumbling when Harrington mentioned "hedge funds," but she quickly recovered by asking sharp, curious questions instead of pretending she knew everything.
Her humor slipped in naturally. When a server poured a particularly dark red wine, she quipped softly, "Is this the part where I pretend I taste notes of oak and regret?"
The table chuckled. Even Harrington.
And though Alex didn't laugh, his gaze lingered across the table, eyes softened ever so slightly.
___________
When discussion turned tense over projected cultural challenges in the merger, Harrington smirked at her again. "What do you think, Ms. Carter? Surely you've got a fresh analogy for us."
Her fork paused halfway to her mouth. For one heartbeat, panic surged. Then her instincts kicked in.
"Well," she began slowly, "it's like hosting a dinner with in-laws. Everyone wants their traditions on the table — mom's stuffing, dad's gravy. If you fight over whose dish is better, the dinner collapses. But if you find a way to serve both… then no one leaves hungry."
Silence. Then, a ripple of laughter.
"Not bad," one investor said, raising his glass.
"Simple. Clear. True," another murmured.
Even Harrington nodded grudgingly.
Across the table, Alex remained still, but his eyes betrayed something else — pride. He said nothing, but his silence felt deliberate, as though he was giving her space to own the moment.
___________
As the evening stretched, toasts were raised. Crystal glasses clinked under the chandelier's glow.
Lily lifted hers awkwardly, nearly spilling. She caught herself, cheeks warm — and then, across the table, her eyes met Alex's.
For a second, the room disappeared. No investors, no forks, no laughter. Just his gaze, steady, unyielding, lingering too long to be accidental.
Her stomach flipped. She quickly looked away, pretending to study her plate. But the echo of that look burned hotter than the wine sliding down her throat.
___________
By the end of the evening, Lily's nerves had ebbed into exhaustion. As they stood to leave, Harrington clapped her lightly on the shoulder.
"Good job tonight, Ms. Carter. Didn't expect you to hold your own, but you did."
Lily smiled, trying not to burst with relief.
As she followed Alex out into the cool London night, she stole a glance at him. His face was impassive, but she thought she caught the faintest softening at the corner of his mouth.
"See?" she whispered. "Didn't embarrass you. That's rare."
He didn't reply — but his silence wasn't cutting this time. It was… heavier. Almost thoughtful.
___________________
The dinner had barely ended when Alex's phone vibrated in his pocket, an encrypted alert only a handful of people in his circle had access to. He ignored it at first — they were still shaking hands with investors at the restaurant entrance, cameras flashing subtly as reporters angled for photos of "Knight Enterprises abroad."
But when the car door shut behind them, he glanced at the screen. A message, curt and ominous:
Sebastian Brooks spotted in London. Private meeting with D'Arcy Holdings scheduled tomorrow.
Alex's jaw tightened.
He slid the phone back into his pocket, his expression unchanging. Years of practice had taught him not to show reaction in public. But beneath the calm, a storm brewed. Brooks was supposed to be half a continent away, buried in his schemes. If he was here — in the same city, circling the same investors — it wasn't coincidence.
Beside him, Lily leaned against the leather seat, sighing dramatically. "Well, I didn't die. That's a plus. Though I think I sweated through half this dress."
Her voice was light, but Alex only half-heard her. His mind ticked through contingencies — how many rival firms Brooks could charm in a single week, which investors were vulnerable, which board members might waver.
"Knight?" Lily's voice cut into his thoughts. "Are you even listening? Or are you plotting world domination again?"
His gaze flicked to her briefly. "I'm listening."
She snorted. "Sure. Your listening face looks suspiciously like your 'about to strangle someone with a contract' face."
The corner of his mouth twitched — not quite a smile. But the tension in his eyes never eased.
_______________
The hotel lobby glittered with late-night opulence. Guests murmured over champagne, piano music floated from the lounge. Lily trailed behind Alex, still buzzing with adrenaline from the dinner, while he moved with his usual precise stride.
As the elevator doors closed, Lily finally blurted, "Okay, what's wrong?"
Alex turned his head slowly, one brow arched. "Nothing."
"Uh-huh. Sure. You've gone full Batman brooding mode. Did someone tell you they don't like your tie?"
His jaw flexed. "Drop it, Carter."
The steel in his tone made her swallow back another retort, but her eyes narrowed. She'd seen that look before — not just focus, but something darker. Something he was deliberately walling off.
_______________
Later that night, Lily sat at her vanity, removing her earrings, when a memory from the dinner replayed. One of the older investors had leaned toward Alex, his tone deceptively casual.
"Have you heard Brooks is sniffing around Europe again? Charming man. Dangerous in business, though. Like a wolf in silk."
Lily hadn't thought much of it at the time, too busy trying not to spill her soup. But now, remembering Alex's subtle stiffness, it clicked.
She frowned, whispering to herself, "Sebastian Brooks…" The name tugged at her instincts — she didn't know why, but she felt a chill.
_______________
In his own suite, Alex stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows, London's lights sprawling like a jeweled net below. He poured a drink, the amber liquid catching the glow.
Brooks's shadow loomed in his mind, as it always did. A rival who didn't just want profits — he wanted dominance, leverage, and chaos. The kind of man who whispered poison into the ears of investors, who thrived in the cracks of trust.
Alex's grip tightened around the glass. The merger talks were delicate enough; Brooks's presence could tip scales in ways brute force never could.
And then there was Lily. Fresh, unguarded, too easy a target for whispers. He hated the thought of her caught in Brooks's orbit — hated it more than he cared to admit.
He told himself he'd protect her because she worked for him. Because she represented Knight Enterprises. Not because of the way her laughter had cut through the icy tension at dinner, or the way her eyes had found his across the table.
Never that.
_______________
The next morning promised investor meetings, but Alex's focus was split. He needed to anticipate Brooks's move, shield his company from erosion, keep Lily in check, and somehow maintain the walls he'd built around himself.
Lily, meanwhile, twirled a croissant at breakfast, blissfully unaware of the war Alex was already waging in silence. She joked about calories and London rain, but Alex's gaze stayed fixed beyond her shoulder, scanning the lobby as if expecting shadows to manifest.
Brooks was here. And whether Lily knew it or not, the ground beneath them was shifting.
_______________
Lily practically stumbled into her hotel room, kicking the door closed behind her with a graceless thud. The moment it clicked shut, she let out a theatrical groan and collapsed onto the nearest armchair, tugging her heels off with a vengeance.
"Goodbye, medieval torture devices," she muttered, tossing the stilettos across the carpet. "May you never see my feet again."
Her toes wriggled gratefully against the plush rug. She leaned forward, elbows braced on her knees, and buried her face in her hands. Tonight had been… a circus. A high-class, pearl-dripping, crystal-glass-clinking circus where she'd felt like a clumsy clown trying to juggle fine china.
Images replayed in her mind like an embarrassing blooper reel: nearly tripping over the carpet edge as she followed Alex into the dining room, fumbling her fork when the waiter set down some tiny, unidentifiable appetizer, awkwardly laughing too loud at a joke she didn't understand.
And then the skeptical investor beside her — the one who had clearly thought she was out of her depth — had asked a question so loaded it had felt like a trap. For a heartbeat, Lily had been certain she was about to sink in front of everyone. But somehow, miraculously, she hadn't. She'd cracked a joke, made her point, and earned a laugh that wasn't pitying.
Still, the stress clung to her like static.
"I swear, I nearly choked on caviar," Lily muttered to the empty room, pacing now. "Who eats caviar? It's like… fancy fish jelly. And the whole time I was waiting for someone to stand up and say, 'She doesn't belong here. Get the assistant out.'"
Her reflection in the mirror caught her eye as she passed. She paused, hands on her hips, and stared. The borrowed designer dress Melissa had insisted she wear still hugged her frame, her hair was pinned in some artful twist, and her makeup hadn't smudged despite the hours of forced smiling. She looked the part… but inside she still felt like Lily Carter, accidental assistant turned reluctant plus-one.
With a frustrated sigh, she yanked at the pins in her hair, letting it tumble loose around her shoulders.
That's when a low voice cut through the quiet.
"You didn't embarrass me."
Lily jumped nearly a foot in the air. She spun around to find Alex standing in the doorway that connected their adjoining suites. He leaned casually against the frame, hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.
Her heart thudded. "Do you mind?!" she snapped, clutching her chest. "Ever heard of knocking? Or announcing your presence like a normal human instead of… of—"
He arched a brow. "Your door wasn't locked."
"Because I didn't think my boss was going to creep in like Batman!"
"I wasn't creeping," Alex said flatly. "I came to check if you were alive. You stormed out of dinner as if you were fleeing a crime scene."
Lily's glare softened just a fraction. She crossed her arms and huffed. "Well, congratulations. I survived. Barely. Though I may have scarred the reputation of Knight Enterprises forever by attempting to use a dessert spoon on the soup course."
For a fleeting second, his lips almost twitched — almost. "You didn't embarrass me," he repeated, voice quieter this time. "That's rare."
Lily blinked. Of all the possible responses, that one she hadn't expected.
"Wow," she said slowly, a smile tugging at her lips. "Such poetic praise. Really warms the heart." She placed a hand over her chest dramatically. "Future generations will recite your words in sonnets: 'You didn't embarrass me. That's rare.'"
He gave her a look, the kind that normally froze boardrooms into silence. But tonight, beneath it, she thought she caught the faintest glimmer of… amusement.
"You're mocking me."
"Only because you make it so easy," she shot back, grinning now.
For a moment, something shifted between them — less boss and assistant, more equals trading blows in a private arena.
The air stretched taut, silence filling the spaces between their words. Alex's gaze lingered on her longer than it should have, tracing the loosened strands of hair brushing her collarbone. He didn't move, but his stillness carried weight.
Lily, suddenly aware of her bare feet and discarded heels, tugged her hair behind her ears, heat prickling at her neck. She cleared her throat. "Anyway. Thanks, I guess. I'll add 'didn't embarrass Alex Knight' to my resume."
"You handled yourself," he said simply. And though the words were clipped, his tone was… not unkind.
Before she could think of a reply, he stepped back into his suite, leaving the connecting door slightly ajar.
______________
An hour later, restless, Lily padded barefoot out onto her balcony. The cool night air wrapped around her like silk, and the city stretched out below — glittering lights, honking horns, life humming in every direction. She leaned on the railing, letting the wind tug at her hair, trying to quiet her racing thoughts.
She nearly jumped again when she realized Alex was already there — standing at the far end of the shared balcony, drink in hand, the city lights reflected in his glass.
"Oh," she said softly.
He glanced over, not startled, not annoyed. "Couldn't sleep?"
"Not really." She shifted a little closer, arms hugging herself against the chill. "Too many pearls and champagne bubbles bouncing around in my brain."
A silence fell. Not awkward, surprisingly. Just… quiet. The kind that wasn't empty, but full.
They stood side by side, watching the city. His shoulder close enough she could almost feel the warmth radiating from him.
Her fingers curled over the railing. His hand was already there, resting against the cool metal. When her knuckle brushed his, she froze — but he didn't move. For one suspended breath, neither of them pulled away.
The air between them thickened, humming with something unnamed.
Finally, Alex cleared his throat, shifting just enough to break the spell. "Get some rest. Tomorrow will be worse."
Lily let out a tiny, disbelieving laugh. "Wow. Your pep talks are legendary."
"Practical," he corrected.
She shook her head, smiling despite herself. "Goodnight, Mr. Knight."
He didn't reply, but when she slipped back inside, she felt his gaze linger on her longer than it should have.
______________
In her bed, Lily tossed and turned, replaying the night — the way his eyes had softened when he'd said she hadn't embarrassed him, the steady warmth of his hand when it brushed hers.
Meanwhile, in his suite, Alex sat with his glass of whiskey untouched, staring at the skyline. He told himself the fire in her eyes was reckless, that her warmth was a liability. But the truth was harder to bury: he couldn't stop picturing her beside him on the balcony, city lights catching in her hair.
Both eventually drifted into uneasy sleep, haunted not by boardrooms or enemies… but by each other.