All Chapters of A Love Once Lost: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Anastasia Greene Johnson A comfortable silence settled between us until the waiter returned with the entrées. I caught Alexander smirking again, hiding it behind his glass of water, but I chose not to comment. Instead, I focused on my plate. My lobster ravioli looked absolutely mouth-watering—and eye-wateringly expensive. Alexander’s Beef Wellington looked no less extravagant.“Bon appétit, sir, ma’am.” The waiter gave us a small bow before leaving.“Ladies first,” Alexander said, nodding towards my plate. Really? Does he have to keep up this gentleman act all evening? I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and picked up my fork. The asparagus and egg salad were delicious.“Mmm. . . this is really good.”“Of course it is. It’s a three-Michelin-star restaurant.” He said it with such casual confidence that I couldn’t help wondering whether he was subtly reminding me exactly how much money he had. What is his deal? By now, I’m almost certain he didn’t ask me out because he

Alexander Finnegan Robertson“Good job back there. Here.” I held out a credit card. “Your payment. There’s ten thousand dollars on it. Enough to cover your college tuition?” The waiter, who looked to be around my age, glanced nervously at the card before looking around the restaurant as though someone might be watching.“B-but, sir. . . you already gave me five thousand yesterday. Why—”“Because your job isn’t finished yet.” I lowered my voice conspiratorially. “The spicy ravioli was good. But it wasn’t enough.” His expression tightened.“What more do I have to do, sir?”“Spill some drinks on her face.” The colour drained from his face. I had left Anastasia lounging beside the pool, deliberately choosing the suite next to it because I’d initially intended to lead her on. I’d assumed she would be like most girls—flattered by the attention, dazzled by the idea of spending a night with a celebrity and eager to see where things might go. Clearly, I’d misjudged her. She hadn’t

Alexander Finnegan Robertson By the time the clock struck eight, filming had finally wrapped for the day, and my stomach was staging a full-scale rebellion, rumbling like a pack of starving hounds. We’d been filming in Long Island, which meant I still had roughly an hour’s drive back to Brooklyn. There was no chance I was going to survive that long without food, so I’d grabbed a BLT sandwich from a takeaway on the way. Shit. These marathon filming hours always leave me hunting for dinner at some ungodly hour. I ate with one hand while steering with the other, navigating the I-495 as the stream of traffic stretched ahead of me. Yet, despite the road demanding my attention, my thoughts kept circling back to Anastasia. She lingered in my mind like a ghost that refused to leave. Her composure during our confrontation at the restaurant earlier that afternoon had irritated me more than I cared to admit. She hadn’t raised her voice. Hadn’t snapped. Hadn’t even given me the satisf

**WARNING****AGE MATURE CONTENT AHEAD, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK (18+ AND ABOVE)**Alexander Finnegan Robertson The last thing I properly registered was the relentless pulse of The Weeknd’s Party Monster vibrating through the club as I staggered towards the ladies’ toilet, my thoughts swimming and my body running several steps ahead of whatever remained of my common sense. The next thing I knew, I was inside, searching the stalls for the woman I’d been talking to earlier. I nearly tripped once, catching myself against the wall at the last second. Bloody hell. I was getting properly pissed now, and my patience was wearing thinner by the second. She wasn’t there. I checked the nearby stalls again. Nothing. Honestly, where the hell is she? My jaw tightened. If this is some ridiculous game of hide-and-seek, I’m done. I’ll find someone else. Then another thought struck me. Wait. Did she even come in here? That possibility made my temper spike. Fucking hell. She’s

Alexander Finnegan Robertson For once, I didn’t have an early shoot. Which meant, in theory, I could enjoy breakfast without being chased out of bed by Max, a schedule, or some unfortunate combination of the two. Apparently, fate had other ideas. Max and I had barely settled at a table in my aunt’s restaurant when people started gathering to ask for selfies and autographs. This was why I didn’t have the luxury to come here to eat like this even though it was my aunt’s restaurant. What was worse? After the crowd settled, the last person I wanted to see appeared with our orders. Anastasia. Goddamn it all to hell.“Here are your orders,” she said, slipping into her usual professional tone as she placed the tray on our table. I recognised her voice instantly. But I kept my head lowered, pretending my phone was suddenly the most fascinating object in the universe. I’d expected her to sound cold. Clipped. Perhaps even angry. Instead, she sounded completely normal. Almost