The Playboy's Undoing

Chapter Four –

Sophia

I told myself the tulips annoyed me.

That's why I emailed him, curt and professional, telling him never to send personal gifts again.

But if I was being honest, dangerously honest I'd stared at them for a full five minutes before typing that email.

White tulips. My favorite. How the hell did he know that?

Maya walked into my office mid-stare, a latte in one hand and her phone in the other. She froze, then gasped so loudly I nearly dropped the vase.

"Oh my God. Did he send those?"

I sighed. "Yes."

She squealed, almost sloshing her coffee. "Sophia! They're gorgeous. And you love tulips."

"That's not the point."

"It's exactly the point." She set her phone down and leaned across my desk. "This is Alexander freaking Knight. He doesn't send flowers. He sends diamonds. The fact that he chose something this... subtle? Girl, he's smitten."

I rolled my eyes. "Or he's just playing another game."

Maya tilted her head. "And what if he's not?"

That question lingered long after she left.

Later that week, Ethan came over to my apartment with takeout. My big brother had always been protective, especially since Dad wasn't exactly a role model in the romance department.

"You look distracted," he said between bites of lo mein.

"I'm fine."

"Fine means not fine."

Ugh. First Mom, now Ethan. "It's nothing."

"Nothing with a name, maybe?"

I glared at him. He just smirked.

"Okay, spill," he said. "Who's the guy?"

I hesitated. Ethan wasn't the type to gossip, he'd probably go punch the man instead. Still, I trusted him. "It's... Alexander Knight."

His chopsticks froze halfway to his mouth. "The billionaire? The one who's always in the tabloids with a new woman every week?"

"That's the one."

"And you're talking to him?"

"Talking is generous," I muttered. "He's chasing. I'm resisting."

Ethan leaned back and whistled. "Wow. So, basically, you're the only woman in New York who told him no. No wonder he's obsessed."

I groaned. "You sound like Maya."

"Because Maya's right. Guys like that..." He shook his head. "They're dangerous, Soph. You let them in, you get burned."

"I know," I said softly.

And I did. That was the whole point.

But knowing it didn't stop the moments from creeping in.

Like when Alex showed up at the follow up meeting, genuinely paying attention to the color schemes and vendor lists. Billionaires don't care about color palettes, but there he was, nodding thoughtfully, asking real questions.

Or the time he lingered after a presentation, waiting until everyone else had left.

"You don't make it easy, you know," he said, leaning against the doorframe, arms folded.

"Maybe that's because it's not supposed to be easy," I replied.

He smiled, slow and disarming. "Good. I like a challenge."

I hated the way my stomach flipped.

The following weekend, Maya dragged me out for brunch. She claimed I needed "sunlight and pancakes" after a week of back to back clients. Halfway through my mimosa, she leaned across the table.

"So, are you really not going to give him a chance?"

"Maya"

"Listen," she said firmly. "I know your history. I know why you're cautious. But you can't paint every man with your dad's brush. What if Alex is different?"

I stabbed my pancakes. "He's not. He's rich, arrogant, used to getting what he wants."

"True," she said, sipping her drink. "But he keeps showing up. That has to mean something."

I didn't answer. Because she wasn't entirely wrong.

That night, as I curled up in bed, I replayed the moments again. The tulips. His questions in the meeting. The way he'd looked at me, not with that smug playboy grin, but with something else. Something quieter.

I told myself I wasn't falling. Not even close.

But deep down, a tiny voice whispered that the cracks were forming.

And if I wasn't careful, Alexander Knight might slip through.