Alexander ran a hand over his eyes, feeling as though a crack had inched around his heart. But he couldn’t let it spread. If anything, seeing his parents was a timely reminder of what he could become if he let himself feel.
CHAPTER SEVEN
OLIVIA BIT INTO the chocolate filled-croissant and stifled a moan as the butter and chocolate melted in her mouth. The pavement café adjacent to Alexander’s building was a little slice of heaven. She had taken to spending most of her time here rather than spend one unnecessary minute with Alexander cooped up in the penthouse.
She had stayed up a few nights, and worked on her pitch, the ideas flowing as she strove to capture them on paper. Now all she had to do was create the presentation and her pitch would be ready. She closed her eyes and leaned back, a smile curving her mouth. The warm, late-afternoon sun caressed her skin. The faint hum of traffic and chitchat enveloped her without jarring her thoughts, which of course, revolved around Alexander.
He had mostly left her to her own devices the past week, during the day at least. But, in the evening, it was another party, or a charity event or in the case of yesterday night, an intimate dinner with friends.
Ever since the night they had encountered his parents, there was a difference in him. Of course, he was back in perfect control, whereas all she had to do was close her eyes to taste him on her lips.
He was polite with her, didn’t throw insults in her face anymore.
He had even made her coffee in the middle of the night when she had been rubbing her eyes determined to finish her work. And when she had promptly fallen asleep with her chin on the table, after drinking the coffee, he’d put away her work neatly, picked her up and tucked her into bed. All through the week, he had let her pick his astute brain, had explained to her all the elements that went into making a marketing campaign a success, without mocking her.
By all accounts, he’d been exceptionally nice to her. She should be glad about it.
But she wasn’t. Not that she would welcome the Alexander who’d been so brutally honest with her, outlined her every failing. But he’d been well, honest, with her. She had known exactly where she stood with him. Now that she had seen a glimpse of the real man beneath, the one who felt pain and grief, the one who had openly acknowledged the attraction between them, she couldn’t forget the savage need that had glittered in his gaze before he had pushed her away ruthlessly.
Even knowing that he had been in pain, knowing that he despised having revealed himself to her like that, she still liked that man.
She leaned back in the seat and clutched her stomach. When had she become such a masochist? Hadn’t she already learned her lesson more than once? What else would she have dared if he hadn’t pushed her away?
Guilt coiled through her belly, raking its nails over her insides. Of all the men in the world, why did she have to be so drawn to her sister’s fiancé?
“You’re hiding from me.”
She jerked straight and tucked her hands in her lap guiltily.
Standing right above her, Alexander cast a dark shadow over her, stealing the sun’s warmth. She shivered as the sheer presence of him pressed on her. Dark and brooding, his expression was in direct contrast to his white shirt.
She swallowed as his gaze swept over her. It hesitated for an infinitesimal moment over her mouth, his pupils expanding against the blue, sending a lick of heat through her. She could feel the tightening of her cheeks, the flush creeping over her neck. She clutched her legs together under the table, glad that she was sitting down.
She straightened up in her chair, and folded her hands. There was a boldness to his gaze, a decisive set to the line of his mouth that scared her.
“I’m not hiding,” she said, the words sounding breathless, not at all like she’d intended. Her heart raced as he pulled out the chair next to her and settled on it. “However, I might beg them to let me live in their kitchen forever.”
He smiled, even though it didn’t reach his gaze. Her arm moved against his as she reached for the last bite of her croissant, sending a tingle up hers. Just as she brought it to her mouth, he deflected her hand toward him, his grip at her elbow gentle and firm. His mouth closed over the tips of her fingers as he tugged the croissant into his mouth.
She reeled back, sensation exploding over every inch of her. She watched as he chewed and swallowed, the movement of his Adam’s apple, the dark glitter in his eyes holding her captivated. He didn’t moan or gush over it, only nodded in understanding.