LOGINAlexanderI caught her wrist, holding it against my chest so she could feel my heartbeat. The rapid thud beneath her palm betrayed everything I wasn't saying. "I'm paying for clothes for my son and his mother," I said quietly, my thumb stroking the inside of her wrist. "That's all this is." Her pulse jumped beneath my touch. "His mother." "Yes. His mother. The woman who carried him for nine months. Who went through labor alone. Who raised him into the incredible kid sleeping in my guest room right now." Madison's breath hitched. "You make it sound so noble." "It is noble. You're noble. So stop fighting me on this. Let me take care of you both." "I can take care of myself." "I know you can. But you shouldn't have to. Not anymore." She bit her lip, her eyes searching mine. Looking for what, I wasn't sure. Lies? Hidden agendas? Some proof that this was all temporary? "You're looking at me like you want to murder me," I observed, my voice dropping lower. "But also like you want t
Alexander"Then answer my questions." I kept my voice low, watching her face flush deeper. "What kind of panties do you want? Cotton? Lace? Or are you planning not to wear any? Is that your plan? No panties tonight?" "Alexander!" Her hand smacked my chest, but she didn't pull away. "I'm just trying to get your order right. Be specific." "Cotton," she managed, her voice coming out breathy. "I wear cotton panties. Sometimes lace. Depends on my mood." "And your mood tonight?" "Cotton is fine." "What about bras? Lace? Something else?" "Lace usually. Sometimes others, depending on what I'm wearing." I shifted beneath her, adjusting her weight on my lap. Her breath caught, her fingers curling into my shirt. "And clothes? Jeans? Pants? Shirts? Blouses?" "All of it. Whatever's comfortable." She tried to move off my lap, but I held firm. "Comfortable. Got it." I studied her face, memorizing the way her pupils dilated, how her lips parted slightly. "Anything else I should know?" "Ho
AlexanderHer head whipped toward me, eyes widening. "Alexander." "What? It's practical. I have shirts that'll fit you. Probably better than sleeping in what you're wearing now." "I can't wear your clothes." "Why not?" "Because." She crossed her arms. "Because it's weird." "Is it? You used to wear my shirts all the time." Heat flooded her face. "That was different." "How?" "Because we were." She paused, searching for words. "We had an arrangement." "An arrangement where you wore my shirts and looked incredible in them." Madison's cheeks went pink. "Stop." "Stop what? Telling the truth?" "Stop flirting with me." I shifted closer, watching her reaction carefully. She didn't move away. The space between us narrowed to inches, maybe less. Close enough, I saw the way her pupils dilated, the slight parting of her lips. Close enough, her breath ghosted across my skin, warm and unsteady. Her eyes dropped to my mouth. Stayed there. My pulse kicked up, blood rushing in my ears l
AlexanderMy fingers itched to touch her. "Madison." "Don't." She stood abruptly. "Don't say whatever you're about to say." "I was just going to ask if you were thirsty." Her cheeks flushed pink. "Oh." "There's a vendor over there. Water? Lemonade?" "Water's fine." I stood, heading toward the cart while Madison returned her attention to Ethan. The vendor handed over two bottles of water, and I paid him. When I returned, Madison accepted hers gratefully, twisting off the cap and taking a long drink. "Thanks." "You're welcome." Ethan ran over, his face flushed and sweaty. "Can I have water too?" Madison handed him her bottle. He drank half of it in one go, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I made three friends! Their names are Sam, Lily, and Max!" He bounced on his toes. "Can I play more?" "Ten more minutes," Madison said. "Then we need to start heading back." "Okay!" He raced off again, the bottle forgotten on the bench beside her. I watched him go, somet
AlexanderHer lips curved slightly, just the barest hint of a smile back. The gesture hit harder than it should have. Ethan shoved the last three fries into his mouth simultaneously, his cheeks bulging like a chipmunk. "Don't choke," Madison said automatically, her hand reaching across to wipe ketchup from his chin with a napkin. "I won't!" The words came out garbled around potato. He swallowed dramatically. "See? I'm a professional." "Very professional," I agreed. "Olympic-level fry consumption." "What's Olympic?" "A competition where the best people in the world compete." His eyes went enormous. "I could win the Olympics for eating?" "Probably." I finished my burger, watching Madison pick at her salad with the enthusiasm of someone fulfilling an obligation. "You done?" She glanced at her half-eaten plate. "Yeah. I'm not that hungry." "You should eat more," Ethan announced, suddenly concerned. "You always tell me to finish my vegetables." "That's different." "How?" "Beca
AlexanderWe grabbed our things, Ethan bouncing the entire way to the elevator. The ride down felt quick, his excitement filling every available space. The Bentley purred to life. Ethan claimed the backseat again, kicking his feet and humming some tune I didn't recognize. "There's a theater near Union Square," Madison said, pulling out her phone. "Showtime in forty minutes." "Perfect." Traffic cooperated for once. We made it with time to spare, finding parking without the usual Manhattan nightmare. The theater lobby buzzed with families, couples, and groups of teenagers. Ethan's hand found mine automatically as we navigated the crowd toward the ticket counter. "Three for the penguin movie," I told the bored teenager behind the glass. "Two o'clock showing?" "Yes." I handed over my card without looking at the total. Madison started to protest. "Alexander, I can pay—" "Already done." I collected the tickets and passed them to Ethan. "You're in charge of these, prince." "I won
Madison"This sea bass is transcendent," Hazel moaned, closing her eyes as she savored another bite. "I might need a moment alone with it." Alexander chuckled, swirling the wine in his glass. "The chef has a particular talent with seafood. He sources it directly from fishermen he's worked with for
Madison"The lasagna is exceptional," Alexander said, smoothly changing the subject. "I can see where Madison gets her attention to detail." Mom beamed. "Family recipe. I've been perfecting it for years." "It's amazing," I agreed, grateful for the shift in conversation. "Best batch yet." "The se
MadisonMom sat on the edge of my bed. "So, when am I going to see Alexander again?" I took another sip of coffee. "I invited him for dinner on Sunday." Her face lit up. "Wonderful! I'll make my special lasagna." "Mom, you don't have to go all out—" "Nonsense! It's not every day my daughter bri
MadisonI glanced at the clock on my computer: 6:35 PM. The office had emptied out an hour ago, but I was still finalizing the construction timeline for the project. My phone buzzed with a text from Alexander. Alexander: My office. Now. My stomach fluttered. That commanding tone, even in text for







