The Playboy's Undoing
img img The Playboy's Undoing img Chapter 3 The Chase
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Chapter 7 It Wasn't A Game Any more img
Chapter 8 Falling For Him img
Chapter 9 A Man Undone img
Chapter 10 His Gaze Burns img
Chapter 11 So Close Yet Untouchable img
Chapter 12 The Kiss img
Chapter 13 The Feeling img
Chapter 14 Heat And Denial img
Chapter 15 The Affair img
Chapter 16 Never Again img
Chapter 17 Fury And Possession img
Chapter 18 The Heat, The Passion img
Chapter 19 Unsettling Truth img
Chapter 20 The Confession img
Chapter 21 The Morning After img
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Chapter 3 The Chase

Alexander

I don't chase women.

It's not arrogance, it's fact. They usually do the chasing. Or at least the well rehearsed dance where we both know exactly how the night will end.

But Sophia Carter changed the rules.

By Tuesday, I had my assistant Jeremy pull some strings and find out who she was working with. Turns out her company, Luxe Moments, had just landed a contract planning a corporate event for one of our subsidiaries. A perfect opportunity, gift wrapped for me.

"You're not seriously thinking of attending that event-planning meeting, are you?" Jeremy asked as we walked down the glass hallway toward the elevator.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Because you never attend event planning meetings. You don't even attend half the board meetings."

I smirked. "I suddenly feel invested in tablecloth colors."

Jeremy groaned. "This is about that woman from the gala, isn't it?"

I didn't answer.

The meeting was scheduled at Luxe Moments' office downtown a small, chic space with white walls, gold accents, and the faint smell of lavender. I walked in with my usual confidence, expecting at least a flicker of reaction when she saw me.

Sophia didn't even flinch.

"Mr. Knight," she said coolly, standing behind her desk. "This is unexpected."

"Please," I said, settling into the chair opposite her. "Call me Alex."

"I'd rather not."

The corners of my mouth twitched. "Fair enough. Shall we get started?"

She slid a folder across the desk, her expression businesslike. "We've prepared three concepts for your corporate retreat. Minimalist, modern luxury, or traditional formal. I recommend modern luxury, it fits your company's brand and your investors' expectations."

I barely glanced at the folder. "Which one do you like?"

Her brows shot up. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Which one would you choose?"

"This isn't about me, Mr. Knight. It's about your company."

"But I'm asking."

She hesitated, then muttered, "Minimalist."

"Then minimalist it is." I pushed the folder back.

Her eyes narrowed. "That's reckless decision making."

"I prefer to call it trusting your instincts."

I caught the flicker in her eyes, the tiniest crack in her armor. Amusement, maybe even surprise.

And just like that, I knew I was getting under her skin.

That night, I met my oldest friend, Marcus, for a drink. He was the opposite of me steady, married, two kids, never a scandal to his name.

"You're grinning like a lunatic," Marcus said, sipping his whiskey. "Who is she?"

I leaned back. "Sophia Carter. Event planner. Smart. Gorgeous. Immune to my charm."

Marcus laughed so hard he nearly spilled his drink. "Immune? That's a first."

"I'm serious. She doesn't give a damn who I am."

"Then maybe you should leave her alone. Sounds like she has her head on straight."

I shook my head. "That's exactly why I can't. I want her."

Marcus gave me a long look. "Careful, Alex. Wanting and needing aren't the same thing. And you don't do well when lines blur."

I waved him off, but his words stuck with me.

Because already, this didn't feel like my usual game.

By Thursday, I had a new excuse to see Sophia. I sent flowers to her office, not roses, not something cliché. White tulips, tied with a navy ribbon. Classic, understated, nothing that screamed "billionaire trying too hard."

The card simply read: For the woman who doesn't need to be impressed.

An hour later, I got an email.

" Mr. Knight, please refrain from sending personal gifts to my office. It's unprofessional". – Sophia Carter

I couldn't stop smiling.

Unprofessional. God, she was infuriating.

Friday night, Lila cornered me at our family dinner. "So," she said, pouring herself a glass of wine. "How's Sophia?"

Mom perked up immediately. "Sophia? Who's Sophia?"

"No one," I muttered.

"Ah ha!" Lila smirked. "I knew it. He's obsessed."

I glared at her. "Drop it."

Mom clasped her hands together. "Alexander, are you finally dating someone worth mentioning?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. This was exactly why I didn't bring women home. They were all temporary. Until now.

"She's... different," I admitted quietly.

That was all it took for Mom's eyes to light up.

"Oh, darling," she said, practically glowing. "I can't wait to meet her."

I didn't admit it aloud, but I couldn't wait either.

The problem was, I had no idea how to get Sophia Carter to let me in.

Because for the first time in my life, I wasn't chasing a conquest.

I was chasing something I didn't have a name for.

            
            

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