THE RUTHLESS BILLIONAIRE BOSS'S OBSESSION WITH MY CURVES

ALEXANDRA'S POV

The icy Chicago wind whipped down the street, pushing freezing rain straight into my face. I hugged the pink bakery box tightly against my chest, using my oversized wool coat to shield the two-tier vanilla buttercream cake from the heavy downpour.

In my other hand, I gripped a massive bouquet of two dozen red roses. The sharp thorns pressed uncomfortably against my freezing fingers through the wet paper wrapping, but I ignored the dull pain. Today was my second anniversary with David, and I wanted everything to be absolutely perfect for him.

I shifted my weight from one foot to the other as I waited for the crosswalk light to change. My leather boots squished loudly, completely soaked through with freezing puddle water.

I had practically begged my manager at Volkov Industries to let me leave my data analytics internship at eight o'clock tonight instead of my usual late shift. It cost me a stern lecture about corporate dedication, but I honestly did not care. I just wanted to get home and surprise David.

My cell phone began to ring inside my coat pocket. I awkwardly balanced the heavy bouquet of roses against my hip, reached into my damp pocket, and answered the call. I pressed the cold phone between my ear and my wet shoulder so I could keep holding the cake level.

"Please tell me you are not still sitting at that miserable desk looking at spreadsheets," my best friend Sarah demanded loudly through the speaker.

I smiled, pushing a wet strand of dark hair out of my eyes. "I am actually two blocks away from the apartment right now. I got off work early, I picked up the custom cake you recommended, and I bought the most expensive roses I could find at the floral shop on Fifth Avenue."

"Good," Sarah said, though her voice sounded hesitant and tight. "And you are wearing that incredible red lingerie set we bought last weekend, right? The one that actually shows off your gorgeous curves instead of hiding them under another baggy sweater?"

I looked down at my bulky, shapeless coat. I felt a familiar, heavy knot of insecurity form in my stomach. "I am wearing it under my clothes. But you know how David is, Sarah.

He is very traditional and does not really care about fancy lingerie. He always prefers the bedroom to be completely dark when we are together. He says it makes the intimate experience more romantic and emotional for him."

Sarah let out a loud, frustrated sigh through the phone. "Lexi, I have told you a hundred times that turning off every single light in the room before he touches you is not traditional. It is weird. You have a beautiful, plump, curvy body. You should be with a man who wants to look at you with all the lights blazing, not someone who treats your body like a secret he has to hide in the pitch black."

"He loves me, Sarah," I insisted, though my voice wavered slightly. "He is just old-fashioned. He respects me. We have been together for two whole years today, and I know he is going to love this surprise. I even bought those expensive vanilla candles to set a nice mood."

"Fine, fine," Sarah relented, softening her tone. "I will stop complaining about your boyfriend for one night. Just promise me you will actually make him look at you tonight. You deserve to feel beautiful, Lexi. Do not let him turn the lights off."

"I will try," I promised, stepping up onto the curb as I finally reached my brick apartment building. "I have to go now. I am walking into the lobby and my hands are completely freezing off. I will call you tomorrow and give you all the details."

"Have a great anniversary, Lexi. Call me if you need anything at all," Sarah said before disconnecting the line.

I put my phone back into my pocket and pushed my wet shoulder against the heavy glass door of my building. The lobby was warm, smelling faintly of old floor wax and heating vents.

I walked toward the elevator, hitting the up button with my elbow because my hands were too full with the bakery box and the flowers. When the metal doors opened, I stepped inside and leaned against the back wall, letting out a long, exhausted breath.

I looked at my reflection in the smudged elevator mirror. My thick dark hair was a wet, frizzy mess plastered to my cheeks. My oversized coat made me look wide and shapeless. I bit my lower lip, feeling a sudden rush of anxiety.

What if David was annoyed that I came home early? What if I looked too messy for a romantic surprise? I shook my head, forcing the negative thoughts away. I loved him, and I was going to make tonight special.

The elevator chimed and the doors slid open on the fourth floor. I walked down the carpeted hallway, my squishing boots making soft, embarrassing noises in the quiet corridor.

I reached apartment 4B and carefully set the bakery box down on the floor right next to the welcome mat. I transferred the heavy roses to my left arm, dug my keys out of my pocket, and slid the brass key into the lock.

I turned the key as slowly and quietly as humanly possible. I wanted to walk into the dark living room, light the candles I bought, and call David out from the bedroom. The lock clicked open with a tiny metallic sound.

I pushed the door open, picked up the cake box from the floor, and stepped inside the apartment. I kicked the front door shut behind me with my heel.

I froze in the entryway.

The apartment was not dark. The living room lamps were turned on to their maximum brightness, casting a harsh glow across the beige sofa and the coffee table. David’s work shoes were kicked off haphazardly near the television stand, alongside a pair of high-heeled black stilettos that I definitely did not own.

I stood completely still in the middle of the room. The heavy scent of my roses mixed with a strong, unfamiliar vanilla perfume that hung thickly in the air.

"David?" I called out softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

There was no answer, but I heard a distinct, rhythmic thudding sound coming from the closed door of the bedroom down the small hallway. My hands began to tremble. The bakery box shook against my chest. I told myself that maybe the television was on in the bedroom. I told myself that there was a logical explanation for the women's shoes sitting in my living room.

I walked forward, my wet boots squeaking loudly against the hardwood floor. With every step I took toward the hallway, the sounds coming from the bedroom became clearer. It was not the television.

I stopped just outside the bedroom door. It was slightly cracked open, and the bright overhead bedroom light spilled out into the dark hallway, creating a sharp yellow line across the floorboards. David always insisted on keeping that overhead light completely turned off.

I reached out with a shaking, freezing hand and pushed the wooden door open just a few more inches to look inside.

A woman's breathless, high-pitched giggle echoed through the bright room, followed immediately by a man's deep, familiar groan.

"David, wait," the woman's voice panted, sounding incredibly loud and clear through the open doorway. "What if Lexi comes home early from her stupid internship? You told me she usually gets off at eight."

"Stop talking about my fat girlfriend while I am trying to enjoy this," David's voice replied, harsh and breathless. "She never leaves that office before nine, and even if she did, she takes forever to waddle her heavy ass up the stairs. Now come here and turn around for me. I want to look at a real body with the lights on."