One Night Stand With Alexander Blackwood-Chapter 18 — Eighteen

Serena’s POV

All eyes burned into my back as I walked out beside Alexander. My fingers curled tightly against my palms, pulse thundering loud enough to drown out the whispers trailing behind me.

Of all the things I expected today, Alexander striding into my department and announcing that we were leaving was nowhere on the list.

’Well, he did show up earlier today.’ My subconscious protested. But I didn’t pay attention to it. That wasn’t the point.

"Mr. Blackwood, there was really no need for you to fetch me," I blurted before my brain could stop my mouth. And why wouldn’t I panic? The man had practically gift-wrapped fresh gossip for my colleagues—again.

All because of one night. One stupid, ill-advised night at a bar.

In my next life, I would never step foot in a bar. Heartbreak celebrations would strictly be held inside my house with zero billionaires involved.

Lost in thought, I didn’t notice he had stopped until my forehead jolted against something solid.

I winced, clutching the spot. When I looked up, Alexander was standing still, hands in his pockets, staring at me with that calmness he seemed to wear like a second skin. I hated to admit it, but I wished I had his calmness. That way, people’s words wouldn’t get to me.

"Why wouldn’t I fetch you myself?" he asked, voice low and deep enough to vibrate through my chest. "You’re my companion for tonight... aren’t you?"

Heat rushed up my neck. Perfect. More people had paused in the hallway to watch this live drama unfold. Some weren’t even pretending to hide it.

"Mr. Blackwood, I—"

"Alexander," he corrected instantly.

"Uh?" The sound slipped out before I could help it, and I blinked up at him, thrown off balance all over again.

"I told you not to call me Mr. Blackwood," he said, eyes softening just barely, before it hardened.

I swallowed hard. "Alexander... can we not talk here?" My gaze darted anxiously around us. The spectators were still there, eating up every second of this with hungry curiosity. They didn’t even pretend to stare anymore.

His expression shifted. It softened, before it became firm. Without warning, his hand wrapped around my wrist, warm and steady.

And just like that, he started walking again, pulling me effortlessly along with him.

Gasps and whispers erupted behind us.

The CEO. Holding my wrist and pulling me out of the office.

If my life had been chaotic before, this was a new level entirely.

And as I followed him—half confused, half breathless—one thought pulsed through my mind:

This was a dangerous game.

The elevator ride was a silent one. Alexander still held on to my hand and whenever I tried to pry it out, his grip only tightened.

Defeated, I let him do as he pleased.

"Where are we going? The time is just past 3. I might be wrong, but banquets start around 7." The questions rolled out of my tongue smoothly.

Alexander looked down at me and smiled. His gaze swept over me—assessing—before he chuckled.

"Do you think you can attend a banquet looking like that?"

His words immediately made me feel aware of how I looked. The elevator was made of glass and my reflection was caught staring back at me.

It was the dress Alexander gifted me this morning but I was looking nowhere like someone who was to attend a banquet. My face was pale without makeup and my hair—my hair—was a complete mess.

My lips caught my bottom lips as my gaze drifted to him. "As you can see, I’m not fit to attend this banquet. How about you look for someone else?"

My eyes were practically glittering. Alexander would return to his senses, right? He would see that he was wrong. I rubbed my hands together in anticipation.

"No."

His words caught me off guard. It felt like cold water was poured all over me, dousing my happiness.

"What do you mean no?" Unable to contain myself, I blurted out. My face heated due to the pent-up frustration within me.

But Alexander... he—Alexander remained calm with his hands in his pocket.

Just then—

The elevator door opened and he stepped out. He stretched his hand out, gesturing for me to take it.

Having no other choice, I placed my hand in his and walked out of the elevator.

"You’ll attend as my companion." He said, his words carrying every bit of firmness.

"But—"

"If you are worried about how you look," he cut me off, his gaze drifting to me with his expression softened. "I have a way to take care of that."

His words silenced all the words which were at the tip of my tongue. He really wanted things to go his way, didn’t he?

I should protest. I should scream. But, no. Here I was being silent. Maybe because part of me trusted him and another part—the part which knew he was dangerous—wanted to play with fire.

But if you play with fire, you get burned. I knew this much. Perhaps, I was willing to get burned.

We stepped out of the building, the late afternoon breeze brushing against my skin. Alexander didn’t say a word as he guided me toward the sleek black car waiting by the entrance.

I opened my mouth to ask where we were going—again. But, he beat me to it.

"You need a proper makeover," he said, unlocking the car. "Hair, makeup, wardrobe. Everything."

My stomach dropped. "Alexander, that sounds expensive. Outrageously expensive."

"Good thing I’m paying," he replied smoothly.

I shot him a glare, but he ignored it, opening the passenger door for me like a gentleman who knew he was being infuriating on purpose.

The drive was quiet, but not uncomfortable. My mind raced with thoughts I didn’t want to examine too closely. His hand rested loosely on the steering wheel, the other arm relaxed, as if he hadn’t just hijacked my life’s trajectory in the span of an hour.

Twenty minutes later, he pulled into an upscale beauty salon. It was the kind meant for old money wives and women who never checked price tags.

My breath hitched.

This place.

I hadn’t been here in years.

Alexander stepped out first, walking around to open my door.

I froze when I stepped out.

Standing right by the glass entrance, laughing with a familiar tilt of her chin... was my stepmother.

And beside her—My father.

My stepmother’s painted smile faltered, lips tightening before she smoothed them again.