CHAPTER 19: A KISS WE COULDN'T EXPLAIN

The worst part about almost kissing Alexander Blackwood was waking up the next morning and wishing we had finished it.

I tried to forget what had happened in the library, but the memory followed me everywhere. The way he had looked at me, the warmth of his fingers against my cheek, and the way he had stepped back when his phone rang.

He had told me to forget it.

I had agreed.

Neither of us had.

That evening, Alexander returned from the company later than usual. I was in the kitchen making tea when I heard his footsteps.

“Still awake?” he asked.

I turned.

He had removed his tie, and his dark shirt was slightly unbuttoned at the collar. He looked tired, with faint shadows beneath his grey eyes.

“I couldn't sleep.”

“Why?”

“Too many things on my mind.”

He glanced at the kettle.

“Making tea?”

“Unless you think I'm planning something dangerous with it.”

A faint smile touched his mouth.

“I wouldn't put it past you.”

I handed him a cup.

He accepted it, and our fingers briefly touched.

Neither of us mentioned the library.

“Did you find out who accessed the archive?” I asked.

His expression changed.

“Someone used an old employee account. The access was authorised fifteen years ago, but the account should have been closed.”

“Could it have been Sebastian?”

“Possibly.”

“Or someone who wants you to think it was him?”

He looked at me.

“That's a possibility too.”

I sat at the kitchen island.

“Did they take anything?”

“They copied several files.”

“Which files?”

“Records connected to my father's death.”

I lowered my cup.

“Do you think those records are connected to Evelyn?”

“I think everything that happened fifteen years ago is connected somehow.”

He stared into his tea.

“I'm beginning to think we were all looking at different pieces of the same story.”

I studied him.

“You sound tired.”

“I am.”

“Then maybe you should stop trying to carry everything alone.”

He gave a quiet laugh.

“That's easier said than done.”

“I know.”

For a moment, we simply sat together.

Then Alexander looked at me.

“Do you ever regret coming here?”

The question caught me off guard.

“Sometimes.”

His face became unreadable.

“Why?”

“Because I don't know which parts of my life still belong to me. I have security guards following me, people checking where I go, and strangers threatening my family. I appreciate what you've done for my mother and Daniel, but I miss being able to make simple decisions without considering how they might affect you.”

He listened without interrupting.

“I don't want to lose myself just because I need help,” I continued. “And I don't want to spend my life feeling as though I owe someone for giving me a chance.”

“You don't owe me your feelings, Amelia.”

I looked at him.

“Do you believe that?”

“Yes.”

“Then why does everything between us feel so complicated?”

He put his cup down.

“Because I don't know how to do this.”

“Do what?”

“Trust someone.”

His honesty surprised me.

He leaned against the counter, looking toward the dark windows.

“Trust has always been expensive in my family. People smile while making plans behind your back. They tell you they're loyal until there's something better to gain.”

“Not everyone is like that.”

“I know. But knowing something and believing it are different.”

I understood more than I wanted to.

“My father was the person I trusted most,” I said. “When he died, I thought the worst thing that could happen was losing him. I didn't realise how many questions would come afterward.”

Alexander turned toward me.

“Do you think he was involved in what happened to my father?”

“I don't know. But I want to believe he wasn't a bad man.”

“And if he was?”

My throat tightened.

“Then I'll have to accept the truth. But I won't let someone else's actions decide who I become.”

He watched me for a long moment.

“You're stronger than you realise.”

“I'm not always strong.”

“Neither am I.”

The words settled between us.

It was the first time he had admitted something like that without hiding behind anger or sarcasm.

I looked down at my hands.

“About yesterday…”

His expression became guarded.

“We don't need to discuss it.”

“I think we do.”

He said nothing.

“You almost kissed me.”

“I know.”

“And then you told me to forget it.”

“I was trying to avoid making things more complicated.”

“Did you regret it?”

He looked at me.

For several seconds, he didn't answer.

Then he said, “No.”

My heart began to beat faster.

“Then why did you walk away?”

“Because I shouldn't have allowed it to happen.”

“Why?”

“Because you're living in my house under an agreement. I have responsibilities toward you, and I don't want you thinking that the money or protection gives me any right to expect something from you.”

I stared at him.

“Is that really why?”

His jaw tightened.

“It's part of the reason.”

“And the rest?”

He looked away.

“I don't know what would happen if I allowed myself to want something I couldn't control.”

I stood and moved closer.

“Maybe not everything has to be controlled.”

His eyes returned to mine.

“You say that as though it's easy.”

“It isn't. But I'm tired of being afraid of everything.”

He was close enough now that I could see the faint line of exhaustion around his eyes.

“Amelia,” he said quietly.

I looked up.

“Tell me to step away.”

I could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

I should have done it.

I should have remembered the contract, the warnings, and all the reasons this was a terrible idea.

But I didn't want him to step away.

“I don't want you to,” I whispered.

He searched my face, giving me time to change my mind.

Then his hand gently touched my cheek.

The kiss began slowly.

His lips brushed mine with hesitation, as though he was still waiting for someone to tell him this was a mistake.

I reached for his shirt, holding it lightly.

That small movement seemed to break the last of his restraint.

He kissed me again, deeper this time, but still carefully. His other hand rested against my waist, drawing me closer without forcing me.

For a few seconds, everything disappeared.

There was no contract, no mansion, no dangerous family history, and no secrets waiting to destroy us.

There was only Alexander.

And me.

When we finally separated, neither of us moved.

His forehead rested briefly against mine.

I could hear his breathing.

He looked at me as if he had just done something he could not undo.

“I shouldn't have done that,” he whispered.

I felt my chest tighten.

“Do you regret it?”

He closed his eyes.

“No.”

“Then don't say you do.”

He stepped back.

“It's complicated.”

“Everything with you is complicated.”

He looked at me, and I saw the familiar wall beginning to rise again.

“This can't happen again.”

I swallowed.

“Why?”

“Because I don't want to hurt you.”

“You don't get to decide what hurts me without even giving me a choice.”

He looked down.

For a moment, I thought he might say something else.

Instead, he picked up his cup.

“Good night, Amelia.”

Then he left the kitchen.

I remained where I was, staring at the doorway.

My lips still carried the memory of his kiss.

I knew he was afraid. I knew his past had taught him to expect loss whenever he allowed himself to care.

But understanding his fear didn't make the sudden distance hurt any less.

The next morning, I entered the dining room expecting something to be different.

Alexander was already seated at the head of the table, reading a business report.

He wore a perfectly fitted dark suit, his hair neatly styled. His expression was calm, and his phone rested beside his plate.

“Good morning,” I said.

He looked up briefly.

“Good morning.”

That was all.

I sat down.

A housekeeper poured my tea.

Alexander continued reading.

“Victoria will take you to the college this afternoon,” he said. “Your meeting has been confirmed.”

I stared at him.

“Thank you.”

He nodded.

Then he returned to his report as though nothing had happened.

As though he hadn't kissed me.

As though he hadn't held my face in his hands and looked at me with something dangerously close to tenderness.

I waited for him to look at me again.

He didn't.

Finally, I pushed my chair back.

“Excuse me.”

He glanced up.

“Are you finished?”

“Yes.”

I walked out before he could see the hurt on my face.

In the hallway, my phone vibrated.

A message from an unknown number appeared on the screen.

You should ask Alexander what happened the morning Evelyn disappeared. He kissed her goodbye too.

My blood ran cold.

A second message followed.

Ask him why he let her walk away.

I stared at the screen, suddenly unsure whether the kiss I had shared with Alexander was the beginning of something real or another mistake waiting to destroy me.