C10 Keeping it professional

SYDNEY

My friends thought I couldn’t do it.

Rivera had practically choked on her wine when I boasted I’d make Alaric mine in a month. Cindy laughed so hard she nearly fell off her chair. And Paige—my oh-so-loyal PA—kept giving me those wide-eyed “are you insane?” looks every time I mentioned his name.

But they didn’t understand. This wasn’t just about a bet anymore.

This was personal.

Alaric wasn’t just another man. He was the first man who didn’t fall at my feet. The first who looked at me like I wasn’t a goddess, but a nuisance. The first who kissed me and left me gasping, then walked away as if nothing happened.

He thought he was untouchable.

But I was Sydney Stallone. And nobody was untouchable to me.

---

Step Three of My Plan: Force Proximity

If he wasn’t going to chase me, I’d corner him until he had no choice but to look at me.

That morning, I strode into the office with a plan that was nothing short of genius. Alaric sat at his desk, papers neatly stacked, every hair in place, radiating that maddening I’m too perfect for this world energy.

I leaned against his desk, deliberately scattering a few of his files.

He didn’t even flinch. Just looked up at me with those cold, carved-from-stone eyes. “Can I help you, Miss Stallone?”

I grinned. “You can start by calling me Sydney.”

“No.”

“Fine.” I crossed my legs dramatically, sitting right on his desk. “Then you can start by having lunch with me.”

His brow ticked. “I don’t mix work with… whatever this is.”

“This is me being a generous boss,” I said sweetly. “I don’t usually invite my employees to lunch. Consider yourself lucky.”

His lips curved—not into a smile, but into that infuriating almost-smirk that made me want to throw things. “Generous,” he repeated, like the word tasted foreign.

“Mm-hm. Very generous. Now, come on.” I hopped off the desk and tugged at his sleeve. “Paige booked us a table at Marcellino’s. I expect you to compliment my choice of wine.”

He didn’t move. “I’m not going.”

I gasped dramatically. “You’re rejecting your boss’s direct order?”

“I’m rejecting a stunt,” he said evenly. “Try running the company instead of playing games.”

That one stung.

But instead of snapping at him, I leaned closer, lowering my voice. “Oh, Alaric… I don’t play games. I win them.”

For the briefest second, something flickered in his eyes. Heat. Hunger. A crack in the ice.

And then it was gone.

“Lunch is over,” he said firmly, returning to his papers as if I weren’t standing there plotting his downfall.

---

Later That Day

I dragged Paige into the ladies’ room, practically fuming.

“He turned me down again!” I hissed.

Paige sighed, dabbing her lipstick in the mirror. “Maybe because you barged into his office like a lunatic?”

“I was being charming.”

“You knocked over half his files.”

“That was strategy.”

She gave me a flat look. “Sydney… admit it. This guy is not normal.”

I paused, chewing on that.

She wasn’t wrong. There was something strange about him. Something I couldn’t name. The way he moved too fast. The way his eyes had looked that night in the restroom, before—

No.

My mind fuzzed out again, skipping the memory. Every time I tried to recall that night clearly, the only thing I could think of was the kiss.

I shook my head. “He’s normal enough. He’s just stubborn. Which makes this bet even juicier when I win.”

Paige groaned. “This is going to end with you heartbroken, I just know it.”

“Please,” I scoffed. “I don’t do heartbreak. I do victory.”

---

That Evening

I thought the day was done with me, but fate had other plans.

As I walked out of the building, my heels clicking against the marble, I spotted Alaric in the lobby. He was loosening his tie, preparing to leave, looking like every woman’s midnight fantasy.

I smirked, blocking his path. “Well, well. If it isn’t my secretary-slash-future-boyfriend.”

He gave me a look so sharp it could cut glass. “Miss Stallone—”

“—Sydney,” I corrected.

His jaw clenched. “Sydney. Go home.”

I stepped closer, so close that my perfume curled between us. “Make me.”

For a moment, the tension snapped like a live wire. His eyes darkened, his breath caught—and I swore I saw his hands twitch, like he wanted to grab me, to pull me closer, to ruin me.

But then he stepped back.

Coward.

“Goodnight,” he said flatly, brushing past me.

I spun on my heel, watching him go, my heart pounding and my lips curling into a victorious grin.

He was cracking.

He just didn’t know it yet.