Eliana’s POV After lunch, Sylvia and Robert suggested we “take a little walk” along the stretch of private beach behind the restaurant while they went off for “an hour of grounding meditation.” Which, judging by the wine they’d had, was probably code for a nap. The sand was hot beneath my sandals, the tide curling lazily toward the shore. “Your parents seem… spirited,” I said once we’d put a decent distance between ourselves and the restaurant. “As people, maybe. As parents? Not so much.” The bluntness in Alexander’s voice made me glance at him. His linen shirt sleeves were rolled to the elbow, his forearms tanned and strong, his jaw a sharp, unyielding line against the glare of the sun. I’d never imagined him as anything other than untouchable—polished, powerful, cold. But standing there, barefoot in the sand, there was something quieter about him. Still guarded, but the walls didn’t feel as impenetrable. “They left you and Damien with your grandfather, didn’t they?
Alexander’s POVEliana had finally started sleeping better after the incident. I wasn’t foolish enough to think it had nothing to do with the therapist she spoke to, even if she’d kept the content of those sessions to herself. By the time we arrived in Bali, her sarcasm had returned, sharper and more alive than I’d seen it in weeks.It was the only reason I didn’t turn the car around the second she asked—suspicion lacing her voice—“Are you sure your parents live here?”She stared at the villa in front of us as though it had personally offended her.The sprawling property looked like it belonged in a travel magazine that couldn’t decide on a theme. Hand-carved wooden statues stood among wild bursts of hibiscus and bougainvillea. Dozens of wind chimes hung from the eaves, chiming in the salty breeze. Mosaics of sunbursts and swirls climbed the walls in a riot of colors.“Yes,” I said flatly. “Brace yourself.”The front door swung open to reveal a blur of honey-brown curls and an embroi
Alexander’s POVThe apartment smelled like soup and roasted chicken when I returned home. Cora had been fussing over Eliana since the robbery, which in her world meant plying her with enough food to feed the entire Upper East Side through winter.Eliana had insisted she was fine, but few people recovered from having a gun pressed to their head that quickly. According to Cora, she was currently napping—and she never napped this late in the day. Or at all, now that I thought about it.I turned off the water, my thoughts as clouded as the steamed-up mirror.I’d done my part. I’d personally handled the men responsible, and spoken to Damien during the ride back from security HQ. He’d bounced back as expected—slightly shaken, but already brushing it off with the reckless ease only the young and foolish possessed.But he wasn’t the one who’d had a weapon in his face.Dammit.With a low growl, I toweled off, changed into clean clothes, and headed to the kitchen, where I had to pry a bowl of s
AlexanderThe call came in just after I wrapped up a meeting in San Francisco. I ignored it at first—Brett knew better than to interrupt unless it was urgent—but when it rang again, and then a third time, I stepped out of the building and answered.“Brett,” I snapped, already walking toward the curb. “You better have a damn good reason for blowing up my phone.”“We’ve had a situation,” he said. “Near the flagship store. A robbery attempt.”I stopped cold. “Define ‘near.’”“Two blocks over. Outside the parking structure on East 61st. We responded immediately. The perpetrator didn’t make it far.”My jaw clenched. “Was anyone hurt?”There was a pause. Just long enough to uncoil something inside me.“Not physically, no,” Brett said carefully. “But it involves Ms. Rivera.”My grip on the phone turned white-knuckled.“What do you mean it involves her?”“She was leaving the shop. Alone. She parked offsite because the private bay was full. On her walk back to the car, someone approached her w
Eliana's POVThe penthouse was too quiet without him.I never thought I’d miss the sound of Alexander Grayson pacing. Or the clipped, deliberate cadence of his voice when he spoke on the phone. Or the way his presence filled a room—not just filled it, but took ownership of the walls, the air, the silence.But now he was gone. Off to California for… meetings. Deals. Power games. Whatever it was that billionaires did behind private jets and vague texts. He barely said goodbye. One line: Back soon. Don’t do anything stupid.Too late.Because I couldn’t stop thinking about him. About us. About what happened at Marlowe Club.I dreamt of Alexander three nights in a row.I couldn’t recall what happened in the dreams, but I woke up each morning with the phantom touch of his hands between my thighs and a tight ball of need in my stomach.Cold showers only helped temporarily, and Alexander’s absence while he was in California was both a blessing and a curse.A blessing because I didn’t have to
Alexander's POV“Asian share markets have risen, and Dow futures are up, but the risk appetite…”I tuned Kyle out.He was a markets savant who’d turned his fledgling company into a Wall Street powerhouse in less than two decades. I respected him, and I listened to anything he had to say regarding stocks, money, and finance.Except for tonight.My jaw tightened when another silvery peal of laughter floated over from the bar.Eliana had been talking to Christian for the past seven minutes. Not just talking—she was smiling and laughing like he was an award-winning comedian when I knew for a fact he wasn’t that damn funny.Irritation pierced my chest when she leaned closer to show him her phone. He said something, and she laughed again.She’d never laughed that much with me, and I was her goddamned fiancé.“Let’s finish this over lunch.” I cut Kyle off before he could go into detail about the impact of the Federal Reserve’s latest announcement. “I have to talk to Eliana.”He took the inte