Chapter 7

Alice

The moment I stepped into the lobby, I was greeted by a cold yet polite, “Good afternoon, Ma’am,” from the security guard. I simply nodded back, trying hard not to look as anxious as I felt while walking toward the reception area. High ceilings, glass walls, minimalist black-and-chrome interior. MobTech looked so high-end and intimidating that my nerves only tightened.

“How may I help you, Ma’am?” one of the two receptionists asked. She was smiling, but it was the kind of corporate smile that never even tried to reach her eyes.

“Can I ask where Mr. Lance Richardson’s office is?” I asked, trying to sound calm even though my chest was slowly tightening with every second that passed.

The two women exchanged looks. One of those silent conversations you can practically see before both of them glanced at me, head almost to toe, as if assessing what kind of trouble I was about to bring into their perfect lobby.

“Do you have an appointment?” the taller one asked, her eyebrows sharper than her tone.

“Ah, um, none. But he knows I’m coming today.” Even I heard the uncertainty slip into my voice, and judging by their looks, they definitely noticed it too.

“Miss,” the other receptionist said, her smile now mixed with a faint eye roll, “you do understand that the person you’re trying to see is the CEO of MobTech, right? He doesn’t just meet anyone without an appointment.”

I swallowed hard. The situation was already collapsing on me even before they finished talking. I could feel what they were thinking, even without them saying it outright. Embarrassment crept up my chest like a slow burn, but I tried to stand my ground.

“Can you please tell him Alice is here? He knows me,” I said, forcing a small smile even as the awkwardness was eating me alive. Their stares were heavy, like judgment following every tiny movement I made.

“Miss,” she repeated, sounding even more patronizing this time, “you’re not the first woman who came here wanting to go up to the big boss’s office. And I’m really sorry to tell you, if you don’t have an appointment, you can’t go upstairs.”

There it was.

They didn’t say it outright, but I heard everything they wanted to say loud and clear.

And suddenly, irritation flared in my chest.

When she said I wasn’t the first woman to show up asking for Lance, something twisted in my stomach. Not jealousy, more like a sharp slap of reality, a reminder that Lance had an entire world out here, a world so far from mine.

“Wait,” I said more directly, “are you thinking I’m one of his… women?”

Their eyebrows rose in perfect, synchronized judgment. That was when I finally understood exactly what they thought of me.

“What else would you be?” the shorter one replied, faster than my heartbeat. A small smug smile tugged at her lips, the kind of smile that makes you want to slap someone once, just once, for your peace of mind.

Heat surged through my body. I closed my eyes briefly before my anger could spill into my expression. If I could claw those smirks off their faces, I probably would’ve done it already.

But I stepped back half a pace, inhaled deeply, and forced myself to stay composed even though I could feel my entire attitude fighting to break free.

God, Lance.

If you really knew me… I wish you hadn’t put me in a situation where I look like some random girl chasing after you.

But I was already here. And there was no turning back.

I needed to get my phone back. I couldn’t risk my mom finding out and wondering why it was missing.

I was about to speak again when the telephone suddenly rang. Both receptionists shifted their attention to it, and the woman on the right picked it up since she was closest.

“Hello, MobTech reception,” she said. Of course. Someone had to call right when I finally gathered the courage to argue.

I held my tongue and waited for her to finish, though I couldn’t help noticing how she kept glancing at me between her polite little “yes” and “okay” responses to the caller. It was like she was talking to me and the person on the phone at the same time.

“Okay Sir.”

The moment she put the receiver down, I tried again. “Can you please call Mr. Richardson’s office? He’s expecting me, I swear.”

I looked at the two of them carefully, letting the request sink in. The woman who had just hung up cleared her throat, almost as if she’d been caught off guard.

“You can go upstairs. Sir is waiting for you on the 25th floor.”

I froze. For a whole second, I wasn’t sure if I heard her correctly.

“Are you sure?” I asked, brows knitting.

“Didn’t you say your name is Alice?” she replied, a bit more neutral now. I nodded. “Then Mr. Richardson is really waiting for you in his office.”

I swallowed hard.

So this is really happening.

“T-Thanks,” I managed before walking toward the elevator. I could feel their eyes burning into my back, but I ignored it. They could think whatever they wanted. I was here for one thing, to get my phone back and nothing else.

When the elevator doors opened on the 25th floor, I hesitated before stepping out. My heartbeat was pounding in my ears as I walked through the hallway. Employees were busy at their computers, their expressions serious, barely glancing up from their screens, but I could still feel the weight of their curiosity on me.

“Ms. Alice?”

I stopped, startled when someone called my name. Turning, I saw a man wearing glasses approaching me.

“Y-Yes,” I answered.

“I’m Rene, Sir Lance’s assistant. This way, please.”

He gestured for me to follow before walking ahead. I trailed behind him until he stopped in front of a large door with a nameplate that read: Office of the CEO.

Rene knocked once, then turned the knob without even waiting for permission to enter.

“Ms. Alice is here, Sir.”

“Okay, you may leave.”

Lance didn’t even look up. His eyes stayed glued to whatever document he was writing. A second later, I felt Rene leave my side, and the door shut behind me.

I remained standing where I was, waiting for Lance to finish whatever he was doing. Only after a few long minutes did he finally lift his gaze toward me while setting aside the documents he was working on.

He leaned back in his chair, elbows resting on the armrests. Then a slow, unreadable smile curved on his lips.

“How long are you planning to stand there?” he asked.

My throat tightened. His voice—deep, calm, and annoyingly confident—sent an unfamiliar jolt down my spine.

I stepped closer until I was standing right in front of his desk. “Where’s my phone?”

“Are you in a hurry?” he asked instead, opening a drawer and pulling out my phone. I immediately reached my hand out to take it only for him to draw it back at the last second.

My brows furrowed in disbelief. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“You really thought you could just take this that easily?” he countered.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Lemuel and your mom don’t know you’re working at a club, right?” His eyebrow lifted, like he was absolutely certain of what he knew.

“So what?” I shot back, though my stomach dropped.

“Should I tell them?” he asked casually, even though we both knew he already understood the answer.

My fists curled so tightly that my short nails dug into my palms.

“What do you want?” I asked bluntly.

“You’re quick,” he said with a pleased little smirk, as if he had already won.

“Just tell me what you want.”

“You.”

No hesitation. No shame. No room to pretend he meant something else.

“Me? What do you mean?” I asked, forcing myself to stand firm even though my knees felt weak. The direction of this conversation… I already knew exactly where he was taking it.

“You’ll be in my bed whenever I need you.”

My jaw locked.

Was he out of his mind?

“I can’t help but crave you,” he continued, voice steady and cold. “Be mine for a year. After that, we’re done.”

“That’s ridiculous!” I exclaimed.