5. Jealousy Unleashed
Chapter five
Jealousy Unleashed
E llie
This room is insane. Everywhere I look, it’s like I’m scrolling through some billionaire Instagram feed. Men and women I’ve only ever seen in magazines, people who have entire empires under their control, and here I am, standing among them. My best friend Jenna would love this kind of networking event—she’d be working the room, charming her way into every conversation.
I, on the other hand, feel like I’m about to melt into a puddle. My throat is tight, my chest heavy, but then I feel it—Alexander’s hand, warm against the small of my back, grounding me.
“Breathe, Ellie,” he says softly, his lips brushing close to my ear. “You’re here with me.”
I take a deep breath, letting his words settle in. Right. I’m here with him . I’m not just some nobody wandering through the party. I have a reason to be here, next to him.
We’re offered champagne by a passing waiter, and I take a glass, my fingers trembling just slightly. Alexander doesn’t seem affected by the sheer magnitude of wealth in the room. He’s completely at ease, his suit immaculate, like he belongs here, like he owns the place. And maybe he does, in a way.
“We need to network,” he says, his voice low and authoritative. “Let’s start with the mayor.”
The mayor . Okay. Sure. My voice comes out strangled. “Okay.”
His hand stays firm on my back as we walk across the room, and with each step, I try to calm myself. I can do this. I’m here with him. And God, the way his touch grounds me—it’s like all the noise fades and I’m left with this quiet confidence.
We stop in front of the mayor, a man who looks more polished than any politician I’ve ever seen in person, and Alexander introduces us.
“Mayor Samuels, this is Ellie Sanders, my business partner.”
I nearly choke on my champagne. Business partner ? Not assistant? My eyes flick to Alexander, but he’s already moved on, shaking hands with the mayor like it’s nothing, like he hasn’t just turned my world upside down with a single introduction.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I manage, my voice stronger than I expected.
The mayor nods, giving me a warm smile. “Likewise, Ms. Sanders. Alexander here has spoken highly of you.”
He has? I’m shocked, but I keep it together, nodding like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
We talk for a few minutes, well— they talk, and I nod along, trying not to get lost in the flow of business lingo. I’m just starting to relax when a sandy-blonde man walks up, his gray eyes scanning the room with an intensity I can’t place. There’s something about him that makes me stiffen before he even speaks.
“Xander,” the man says, his voice carrying a hint of an accent I can’t quite pin down—Australian? British? Maybe a mix. Either way, it’s unsettling.
Alexander’s entire body tenses next to me. “West,” he says flatly, his voice colder than I’ve ever heard it.
West smiles, turning his attention to the mayor for a polite greeting before his gaze lands on me. His smile widens as his eyes sweep over me like he’s assessing every inch of my body.
“And who is this beauty?” he asks smoothly, taking my hand and bringing it to his lips in a move that feels both old-fashioned and slimy at the same time. Deep in my gut, I already know that I cannot trust a word that comes out of his mouth.
“I’m Ellie Sanders,” I say, pulling my hand back as quickly as I can without being rude. “I work with Mr. Blackwood.”
His smile sharpens. “Logan West. I went to school with Xander here.”
Xander ? My eyes flick to Alexander. I’ve never heard anyone call him that. He’s always Alexander, or Mr. Blackwood. But Logan says it like it’s some kind of inside joke, and judging by the hard set of Alexander’s jaw, it’s not a welcome one.
The mayor excuses himself, leaving me, Alexander, and Logan standing in this tense little triangle. The air feels tight, like something’s about to snap.
“It’s been a while,” Logan says, his eyes gleaming with something I can’t quite place. He leans in just a fraction toward Alexander. “You’ve been busy, I assume?”
Alexander’s reply is clipped. “I have.”
Logan smirks, but before he can say whatever snide comment is clearly on the tip of his tongue, Alexander steps in.
“Excuse us,” he says, his voice low and firm. “We need to speak with someone.” And just like that, he takes my arm, gently but insistently, and pulls me away from Logan.
I can feel the tension rolling off him as we move through the crowd. His grip on my arm is firm, but not painful, just... controlled.
I lean in, whispering, “Are you okay?”
He glances at me, flashing a smile that’s all plastic, all business. “I’m fine, Ellie. Don’t worry about it.”
But I can feel that he’s lying. Something about Logan West has him on edge. I file the thought away, for now.
We stop in front of an older woman with sleek silver hair and a polished, regal air about her. She’s dressed in a deep emerald-green gown that screams money and power.
“Ellie, this is Camilla Rochefort,” Alexander says, his voice back to its smooth, professional tone. “CEO of Les Mains de Paris .”
I take a sip of champagne to steady my nerves, the bubbles doing nothing to calm the racing in my chest.
Camilla’s smile is warm, but there’s a sharpness in her eyes that tells me she’s not someone to take lightly. “Alexander,” she says, her French accent making his name sound like a melody. “Always a pleasure.”
“Likewise,” Alexander replies smoothly, shaking her hand. “This is Ellie Sanders, my business partner.”
My hand feels small and insignificant as I shake hers, but I smile, trying to match her energy. “It’s an honor to meet you, Ms. Rochefort.”
“The honor is mine,” she says, her eyes flicking between me and Alexander. “So young and already a business partner. You must be quite talented, Ms. Sanders.”
I smile, trying not to choke on the compliment. “I try my best.”
Camilla laughs, a soft, elegant sound. “Don’t we all?”
As they dive into conversation about the state of the restaurant industry and the future of luxury dining, I sip more champagne, feeling slightly more at ease. But there’s still this underlying current—this tension between me and Alexander—that I can’t quite shake.
Logan’s appearance rattled him. And if I’m honest, it rattled me too.
But right now, standing next to him, I’m just trying to keep my head above water, trying to remember that I belong here, that I’m not just some assistant tagging along. I’m his business partner —at least for tonight.
And even though the room is filled with people who could buy my entire life ten times over, I’m here. With Alexander Blackwood.
Camilla is in the middle of explaining something about a new restaurant she’s opening in Paris when she stops, her eyes brightening as she spots someone across the room. “Alexander, darling,” she says, touching his arm lightly. “I must introduce you to someone. He’s been dying to meet you.”
Alexander looks at me, his brows lifting slightly in question. “Will you be fine?”
I smile, nodding, doing my best to seem unbothered by the idea of being left alone at this massive event. “I’m fine,” I say, my voice coming out steadier than I expected.
He watches me for a moment longer, as if checking to make sure I’m telling the truth, then nods. “I’ll be back soon.” He turns to follow Camilla, but not before he glances back at me over his shoulder, flashing me a smile that sends a warm rush through my chest. God, he’s handsome .
I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, glancing around the room. Alone now, I feel the nerves creeping back in. I pull out my new phone, still trying to get used to the feel of it after spending half the day programming my old contacts and apps into it. I can’t believe he got me this thing. It’s sleek, red, and way too nice for someone like me.
I scroll through my messages and find one from Jenna, a photo of a tray of cinnamon cookies shaped like... cocks. Of course. I chuckle, typing out a response when I hear a voice from in front of me.
“I’m hoping that’s not a jealous lover making you giggle. I’d be jealous, Ellie.”
I look up, startled, to find Logan West standing there, his gray eyes watching me with that same unsettling intensity as before. My fingers tighten around my phone, and I quickly slip it into my purse, taking a sip of champagne to steady myself.
“It’s just my friend,” I say, keeping my tone casual, though his gaze makes me uneasy.
Logan tilts his head, a smirk playing on his lips. “Is she as pretty as you?”
I smile politely, trying to keep things light. “She’s prettier, actually.”
He takes a sip of his drink, his eyes roaming over me again in a way that makes my skin crawl. “I doubt that,” he says, stepping a little closer, too close for comfort.
I step back, feeling the cool glass of my champagne press against my lips as I take another sip. “So, what are you and Xander doing here?” Logan asks, his tone casual, but there’s something sharp beneath it. “This is a hospitality event, isn’t it? Blackwood Enterprises is known for tech and AI. What’s your game?”
I shrug, trying to keep my expression neutral. “We’re just here to meet people.”
He looks me up and down again, his smile widening. “Well, I can’t complain. At least I got to meet you.”
My discomfort grows as he takes another step forward, closing the distance between us. His gray eyes gleam with something that makes my skin prickle. Before I can respond, he leans in slightly. “How about dinner sometime?” he asks smoothly, his voice low.
“I don’t think I—” I start, my words faltering, but before I can finish, I feel a familiar hand on my arm.
Alexander.
He doesn’t say a word, just pulls me away from Logan with a firm, controlled grip, leading me through the crowd with purposeful strides. The tension in his body is palpable, rolling off him in waves, and I can feel the heat of it even through the material of my dress.
“Alexander, what—” I start, but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he takes the champagne glass from my hand and sets it down on a nearby table without breaking stride. He leads me into a secluded hallway, away from the main event, before finally letting me go.
His eyes are stormy, his jaw tight as he clenches his fists.
“Alexander, are you okay?” I ask, concern lacing my voice.
He clenches his jaw, his hands flexing at his sides. “That bastard...” he mutters under his breath, his voice low and dangerous.
Before I can ask what’s going on, his hand is suddenly on my neck, firm but not rough, and then his lips are on mine.
I gasp against his mouth, the shock of the kiss sending a jolt through my entire body. But the second his lips part mine, all coherent thought leaves me. He sucks my lower lip into his mouth, and I can’t help the trembling that courses through me. He feels so good. God, he tastes good —like champagne and something darker, something him .
My hands grip his arms, feeling the tension coiled in his muscles as he pulls me closer, pressing me against the cool wall of the hallway. His tongue slides into my mouth, and I moan, the sound vibrating between us as I pull him closer, needing more, needing all of him.
I pull away just long enough to gasp, “I don’t want to get you sick.”
His lips curve into a smile, and for a moment, I’m mesmerized by how that simple expression transforms his usually stoic face into something softer, something... vulnerable.
“I don’t care,” he says, his voice rough as he leans in again, capturing my mouth with his.
This kiss is hungrier, more desperate, and I respond in kind, my fingers tangling in his hair as his hand slides down to my waist, gripping me tighter. There’s no space between us now, his body pressing into mine, and I can feel the heat radiating off him, the strength of his grip as he kisses me like he’s been holding back for far too long.
I don’t care that we’re in a public hallway, that anyone could walk out and see us like this. I don’t care about anything but the way his mouth moves against mine, the way his hands are on me, holding me, grounding me, making me feel more alive than I have in a long time.
I kiss him back with everything I have, pouring all the frustration, the confusion, and the want I’ve been bottling up into this moment. The feel of his tongue against mine is dizzying, intoxicating, and I don’t ever want it to stop.
But just as quickly as it started, the sound of footsteps echoes down the hallway, breaking through the haze of heat and desire.
Alexander pulls back, his breathing ragged, his lips swollen from the kiss. His eyes are dark, stormy, filled with something raw, something that makes my knees feel weak.
“Ellie,” he starts, his voice hoarse, like he’s about to apologize.
But I don’t let him. “Don’t,” I whisper, shaking my head slightly. “Don’t apologize.”
His eyes search mine, and for a moment, we’re both just standing there, trying to catch our breath, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.
“I shouldn’t have—” he begins, but I cut him off again.
“I don’t care,” I say, my voice firmer this time. “I don’t care, Alexander.”
He watches me, his expression unreadable for a moment, before his lips curve into the smallest smile. “I’m not sorry.”
“Good,” I breathe, leaning in again, needing to feel his lips on mine one more time.
But this time, it’s slower, softer, the urgency from before replaced with something more deliberate, more careful. His lips move against mine with a gentleness that surprises me, and I melt into him, feeling the tension leave my body as his hands cradle my face.
We pull away, but this time it’s less abrupt, more controlled. We stand there for a moment longer, our foreheads almost touching, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between us.
“We should get back,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.
He nods, his hand still lingering on my waist, but he doesn’t let go right away. “Yeah,” he says, his voice rough.
But even as we step back into the party, even as we rejoin the crowd, the memory of that kiss lingers between us like a secret. And I know, without a doubt, that this—whatever this is—is far from over.
The rest of the night passes in a blur of conversations, champagne, and introductions. Alexander keeps his hand on the small of my back the entire time, a subtle, possessive touch that grounds me, but also makes my skin tingle with awareness. I can feel the heat from his palm even through the fabric of my dress. Every time he moves, adjusts, or leans in to whisper something to me, it feels like an electric current zipping through my body.
I can’t help but feel like his touch is more than just an anchor—it’s a statement. He’s staking a claim, making it clear to everyone around us that I’m with him, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it.
We talk to so many people—CEOs, investors, some big names in the hospitality industry that I’ve only ever heard about. And Alexander is smooth, calculated in every interaction, always making sure to introduce me as his business partner . Every time he says it, I feel that strange flutter in my chest. Partner. Not assistant. Partner.
But there’s an undercurrent of tension throughout the night, like a buzzing in the air that I can’t quite shake. Maybe it’s the fact that I only catch sight of Logan one more time, standing across the room. He lifts his glass at me, his smirk firmly in place, and for a brief second, I feel a shiver run down my spine. I recognize it now—whatever he and Alexander have between them, Logan is just trying to use me. Maybe to get under Alexander’s skin, maybe for something else entirely. I don’t know. But I’m not going to let him.
I ignore Logan’s gaze and focus on the conversations in front of me, on the way Alexander’s touch lingers at my back, steady and reassuring.
Eventually, we make our way back to the car. The champagne has gone straight to my head, leaving me feeling a little dizzy, a little floaty. I slide into the backseat, leaning my head back against the plush leather as Alexander sits beside me.
“That was a successful night,” he says, his voice low and smooth. There’s a hint of satisfaction in his tone.
I nod, trying to focus as I tap my heels together lightly. “Yeah, it was.”
He watches me for a moment, his eyes dark and intense. “You look exhausted.”
I let out a small laugh. “I didn’t expect to stand and walk around this much,” I admit, kicking off one of my heels and wiggling my toes.
He shifts in his seat, moving toward the end of the car. “Put your feet up,” he says.
I blink, surprised. “What?”
“Feet up, now,” he says, and there’s a command in his tone that sends a thrill through me.
Hesitantly, I lift my legs and place my feet in his lap. He works the second shoe off, his large hands wrapping around my ankle, and before I can even process what’s happening, his fingers start massaging the arch of my foot.
A moan slips out of me before I can stop it. “Oh my God…”
His hands are skilled, firm, kneading out the soreness in my feet, but the sensation shoots through my entire body, making me feel it everywhere . His touch is hypnotic, pulling me under, and I bite my lip to keep from making any more embarrassing noises.
Then he does something that short-circuits my brain—he lifts my leg and presses his lips to my ankle. It’s a soft kiss, but it sends a bolt of heat straight to my core. I lose all sense, my head spinning, my breath catching in my throat.
“Alexander,” I whisper, not even sure what I’m asking.
“What?” he murmurs, his voice rough, before placing another kiss on my other ankle.
I’m trembling now, my entire body on edge. “You introduced me as your partner.”
His lips linger on my skin before he looks up, meeting my gaze. “We’re working together on the project, aren’t we?”
I don’t know why, but his answer sends a rush of something through me—something I can’t ignore anymore. Without thinking, I lower my legs from his lap and crawl toward him, my body moving on instinct. I kiss him, pressing my lips to his with an urgency that’s been building all night, maybe longer.
He doesn’t hesitate. His hands are on me in an instant, pulling me into his lap as he deepens the kiss. His tongue slips into my mouth, and I moan into him, my hands gripping his shoulders as the heat between us intensifies.
He presses a button, and I hear the soft hum of the privacy screen rising between us and the driver, but I barely register it. All I can focus on is the way he’s kissing me, the way his hands are sliding over my body, gripping my ass, pulling me closer until I’m grinding against him, desperate for more.
“You drive me insane,” he growls against my lips, his hands squeezing my breasts through the fabric of my dress.
I gasp, my head falling back as his mouth moves to my neck, his teeth grazing my skin in a way that has me trembling. It feels too good. Too intense . I should stop. I should say something, but I don’t. I don’t want to. Not when this feels like everything I’ve been wanting for weeks.
I grind against him harder, feeling the hard length of him press against me through his pants, and a surge of desire floods through me. I’m not thinking anymore. I’m just reacting, moving with him, lost in the heat and the overwhelming need.
His hands slide down to my thighs, gripping them tight as he pulls me harder against him, making me moan again. His lips find mine, and the kiss is all-consuming, all need and hunger, and I swear I’m going to combust from the intensity of it.
“Ellie,” he groans, his voice rough and low as he pulls me even closer, his hips grinding up into mine. “You’re fucking killing me.”
I can’t respond, can’t even form words. I’m lost in him, in the way his hands are on me, the way his lips are devouring mine, the way my body feels like it’s on fire. All I can do is hold on and let him take me under.