Chapter 27

Olivia

Our food arrived, and we ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes. I was acutely aware of his eyes on me, watching as I savored each bite.

After dinner, we stepped out into the cool night air. Alexander's arm slid around my waist as we waited for his car, his fingers tracing idle patterns against the silk of my dress.

"Did you enjoy dinner?" he asked, his breath warm against my ear.

"It was incredible," I admitted. "I've never had steak that melted in my mouth like that."

"I'm glad you approved." His thumb brushed the bare skin exposed by the dress's low back. "There are many more experiences I'd like to show you."

The double meaning wasn't lost on me. I felt my cheeks flush as his car pulled up to the curb.

Alexander guided me forward, his hand sliding from my waist to my ass as I bent to enter the car. His fingers lingered, squeezing slightly before releasing me. The touch was brief but deliberate, sending a jolt of electricity up my spine.

"Careful with the dress," he murmured, his voice low enough that only I could hear.

I slid across the leather seat, hyperaware of the slit in my dress riding up my thigh. Alexander settled beside me, closer than necessary in the spacious backseat.

As the car pulled away, I glanced out the window, scanning the sidewalk. Hadn't he mentioned paparazzi? I didn't see anyone with cameras, and no suspicious figures were lurking in doorways or behind parked cars.

"Looking for something?" Alexander asked, his voice amused.

"You said you tipped off photographers," I whispered, still searching the darkened street. "I don't see any."

"They wouldn't be obvious about it." His hand found my knee again, warm and heavy. "That's not how it works."

"So they could have already taken pictures? Without us noticing?" The thought made my stomach clench. What if my face were clearly visible? What would my parents think if they saw me splashed across tabloid pages with Los Angeles's most eligible bachelor?

"Relax," Alexander said, his thumb tracing circles on my skin. "Trust me to handle this."

I turned to face him, ready with a retort about trust being earned, not demanded, when I noticed how he looked at me. His eyes had darkened, dropping to my lips with unmistakable intent. The air between us thickened, charged with possibility.

For a moment, I thought he might kiss me. His body shifted slightly, leaning toward mine. My heart hammered against my ribs, and I anxiously parted my lips.

Alexander's eyes lingered on my mouth, his breath warm against my skin. The air between us crackled with electricity. Then, he suddenly pulled back, straightening in his seat.

"We're almost there," he said, his voice deeper than usual.

Disappointment flooded through me, surprising in its intensity. I turned to look out the window, hoping he couldn't see the flush on my cheeks. What was wrong with me? I should be relieved he didn't kiss me. This was business, not pleasure.

The car pulled up to his building, and Alexander helped me out, his hand lingering at the small of my back as we walked through the lobby. The elevator ride was silent, tension thick between us.

Inside the penthouse, Alexander loosened his tie and headed straight for the bar.

"Drink?" he asked, already pulling out crystal tumblers.

"Please." I kicked off the heels that had been killing me all night, sighing in relief as my bare feet sank into the plush carpet.

Alexander poured amber liquid into two glasses and handed one to me. Our fingers brushed, sending a jolt up my arm.

"To new beginnings," he said, raising his glass.

"New beginnings," I echoed, taking a sip. The whiskey burned pleasantly down my throat.

We drank in silence, the city lights twinkling through the floor-to-ceiling windows. I was acutely aware of Alexander watching me over the rim of his glass, his eyes dark and unreadable.

"Another?" he asked when I finished.

I nodded, and he refilled my glass. The second drink went down easier than the first, warmth spreading through my limbs.

"It's late," Alexander said, setting down his empty glass. "We should get some sleep."

My stomach flipped. "Sleep?"

"Yes, Olivia. That thing humans do at night." His lips quirked into a half-smile. "Usually in beds."

"I—I didn't bring anything to sleep in," I stammered, panic rising. "Or toiletries. I should go home."

"At this hour? Don't be ridiculous." He walked toward the hallway, beckoning me to follow. "I have everything you need."

I followed Alexander down the hallway, my bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. Despite the whiskey's warmth spreading through my body, anxiety crept up my spine. Sleep? Here? With him?

He opened a drawer in his bedroom and pulled out a black t-shirt, tossing it to me.

"You can wear this." His eyes gleamed in the dim light. "Bathroom's through there if you want to freshen up."

I clutched the soft cotton to my chest. "Thanks."

In the massive marble bathroom, I stared at my reflection. My carefully applied makeup had held up surprisingly well, but my eyes betrayed my nervousness. I wiped away the red lipstick and mascara, then unzipped the designer dress, carefully hanging it on the hook behind the door.

Standing in the lace thong, I debated keeping the bra on but decided against it. The underwire was already digging into my skin. I unhooked it with a sigh of relief, my breasts feeling suddenly lighter.

I slipped Alexander's t-shirt over my head. It smelled like him, expensive cologne with undertones of something uniquely masculine. The soft fabric fell to mid-thigh, but when I turned to check the back view, I realized it did little to hide the curve of my ass beneath the thong.

"Great," I muttered. "Just great."

I tugged the t-shirt down as far as it would go, but it still barely covered my ass. With a sigh of resignation, I opened the bathroom door and stepped into the bedroom.