Chapter Six
Alexander
One week later
It was like stepping into another universe, going to Claire’s home.
I’d come home to find her gone, and figured she’d needed to escape.
So, I’d decided to show up.
The first thing I’d noticed was that, here, Claire’s laugh wasn’t stifled by my presence like she’d been lately.
From the front door, I could hear her laugh.
Her brother cracked jokes that made her grin—nothing like the superficial interactions at my family dinners.
This world of hers was not a world I fit into, and yet here I was, watching her go pale with surprise as I stood in her living room.
My being there seemed to irritate her, but her family quickly took to me.
Claire’s brother was the first to size me up, and soon I found myself charming them more than she’d probably like.
Michael was quick to corner me.
"Alexander, right? The billionaire boss," he said with an exaggerated eye roll as if he’d forgotten he’d been the one to walk her down the aisle at mine and her wedding.
I could only assume it was a dig that I never visited.
"I thought people like you traveled with an entourage."
"No entourage today," I said, my voice a notch above reserved, trying not to betray how out of place I felt.
His eyes flickered with mischief.
"Mom, Alexander's here!"
The shout seemed to shake Claire out of her frozen state. She moved toward me, a strained smile attempting to mask her shock.
"Hi, honey! I thought you’d be busy tonight," she said. She thought no such thing. Her voice was all politeness, but I knew a reprimand when I heard one.
"Surprise," I said, opening my arms to pull her into a convincing hug. It seemed I’d interrupted a rare moment of happiness for her. Maybe this had been a mistake.
An older woman, frail but sharp-eyed, appeared. Claire's mother. She assessed me like a stray cat that had wandered in, trying to decide whether I was friend or foe. Her expression softened slightly as Michael put an arm around my shoulders in a brotherly fashion, telling them I was a welcome surprise since they hadn’t seen me since the wedding, the excitement in his voice not quite matching the tension in Claire’s posture.
"Alexander, it's a pleasure," her mother said. I could tell she meant it, though I suspected she wondered why I’d shown up out of the blue.
"The pleasure is mine," I said, stealing a glance at Claire. Her face was less welcoming.
Michael nudged me. "Come on, you’ve got to try some of this. Claire was about to take credit for my awesome cooking."
He was joking, and the room relaxed around his good humor. Everyone except Claire, who watched me with an intensity that would have been unnerving if I wasn’t so used to being under scrutiny.
I followed Michael, noticing how her tension seemed to bleed away from her shoulders as her brother playfully steered the situation. Claire was trying to escape—from me, and now, maybe, from what my presence in her home meant. I wondered if that’s what this dinner was. An escape from everything, from the world that pushed her around and took advantage of her.
She turned to her mother, who nodded approvingly, as if saying I wasn’t the monster she feared. It was remarkable, this quick transition from wariness to acceptance.
Michael shoved a plate into my hands. "Eat, man. You look like you could use a real meal."
Claire raised an eyebrow at the remark, a flicker of humor betraying her attempt at composure. I couldn’t tell if she found Michael’s banter charming or was relieved that he was keeping the peace. Maybe both.
The atmosphere in the room started to soften. The warmth in the air reminded me of an era before James got involved with Allison—before Friday night dinners turned into battlefields. The thought of my brother gnawed at me, reminded me why I’d come to see Claire in the first place. Why I needed this to work.
"Alexander, are you okay with spicy food? We wouldn't want to ruin your taste for high society dining," Claire's mother said, bringing humor when I least suspected it.
"I’ll risk it," I replied, aware that I was smiling more than I had in weeks. I glanced at Claire. She didn’t look upset anymore. The way she watched me was different.
There was a lot of love here. Michael and Claire's easy banter, her mother’s concern over the smallest details—elements missing from my own family. Mine was built on power plays and pretense, a frigid masquerade in comparison. James, seated smugly next to Allison, playing the role of victor while I endured. I hated those dinners.
"I didn’t think you’d come to this side of town," Claire said, less accusingly this time.
"I was curious," I said. I had wanted to see how the family she fought so hard to support actually lived. It was also another chance to disrupt the balance. To get close enough that the world would notice.
"I bet," she said, her tone softening just enough for me to know she didn’t quite buy it.
My eyes drifted around the room, noting the way Michael couldn’t stop ribbing her, the way her mother seemed to hover, always attentive, always on. This was a family. Not the kind I knew. Sure, my mother had softened up a lot over the last handful of years, but my home had never felt like this.
Michael leaned over, lowering his voice to a stage whisper like he was about to share a secret. "Do billionaires even eat regular food, or is it just lobster for breakfast and steak for dinner?"
Claire snorted. Actually snorted. The sound was a revelation. It was one of the first genuine reactions I’d seen from her, since the hug that had turned my whole world upside down. It caught me off guard.
"Not every day," I said, enjoying how strange and wonderful it felt to be drawn into this warmth.
It was Michael's clear admiration for Claire, his casual insistence that I belonged in their little circle, that threw me most. "Claire’s told us how you started from nothing. That true?"
I nodded, appreciating how candid his question was. Too many people tiptoed around me, treating me like royalty, someone to not upset or else they might not find favor later. "I guess we have that in common," I said, my eyes meeting Claire’s.
Her brightness dimmed slightly as I spoke, but not in the way I’d anticipated. It wasn’t disappointment. She was processing, seeing a new side of me and struggling with it. That frustrated me more than her rejection would have.
Her family embraced me without the suspicion I expected, with none of the emotional calculations I’d grown accustomed to. It bothered me, their quick acceptance – what if I was a wolf slipping in to cause harm? Not that I wished harm on her family, I just couldn’t understand being so open and accepting of a near stranger. Her mother’s quick re-evaluation still ran circles in my mind. I was an intruder, yet they welcomed me in as if I was already part of the scenery.
It was Claire’s wide-eyed confusion that made me pause. Her reactions to my intrusion into her life had been so... unlike anything I expected. She was adjusting. Or maybe she was forcing me to adjust.
"So," Michael said, bringing me back into the present. "What's it like bossing everyone around?"
A laugh slipped out, genuine and surprising.
"Exhausting," I said, glancing at Claire.
"Especially when they don’t listen."
Her eyes narrowed, but her lips twitched like she was suppressing a smile.
"Michael can be a handful," she said, deliberately misinterpreting my jab.
Her defensiveness had waned, giving way to something else.
Something unreadable.
Something unfamiliar.
Had my presence, my world, really changed her that much?
Michael’s rapport with her was enviable, the kind of bond I didn’t know siblings were supposed to have.
It made me see why she sacrificed so much.
Why she needed to keep this escape intact, why she needed money.
I expected siblings to be more like Jen, to be honest. Cruel and unkind, selfish and only out for themselves with no concern for others.
"What’s it like for you?" I asked Michael, turning the conversation back to him.
"Having Claire bossing you around all the time?"
He laughed.
"Let’s just say I’m glad she now lives with you," he said looking at Claire as if he wanted to keep teasing his sister.
Claire gave him a stern look and then laughed back at him.
After we’d finished eating, Claire’s mother pulled me aside while Claire distracted Michael with a playful argument over who really made dinner.
"Alexander, it’s good of you to come."
Her words were filled with meaning.
I could see she was still gauging my intent but wanted to believe the best for Claire’s sake.
I shrugged, hoping it seemed casual.
"Figured I’d check in. Make sure you all don’t think I’m some monster."
She didn’t laugh at that.
Instead, she gave a slow, deliberate nod, as if considering a new possibility.
"Stay for dessert," she said.
It was more command than invitation.
"Michael made it."
When I hesitated, Michael's voice boomed across the room. "Claire, make him stay. We need a billionaire opinion on my pie."
I relented. What harm could come from staying longer and enjoying some pie with Claire’s family?
But the evening went on longer than I anticipated. Longer than I should have let it. Michael’s attempts to draw me in made me feel like one of the family, like I belonged. He treated me like a normal person, not a threat or an asset. I wasn’t used to that.
As the night wore on, I watched the way Claire’s initial surprise transformed. She seemed more introspective than annoyed, more curious than upset. Her family liked me. I’m sure she could see that.
When it was finally time to go, Claire joined me. We echoed the goodbyes said, and I tried to not ask why Jen wasn’t present at the family dinner.
The drive back was quiet, but not tense. Not like things had been since the hug.
Claire sat with her arms loosely crossed, gazing out the window as streetlights flickered past. The warmth of the evening lingered in the car, the scent of her mother’s home—fresh herbs and something sweet—still clinging to her sweater.
For the first time since that day, there was no bite in her tone. I pulled into the parking garage of my penthouse, the engine humming softly as I parked. Neither of us moved right away.
“I wasn’t expecting you to show up,” she said finally, her voice quieter than before.
“I know.”
She looked over then, studying me in a way I wasn’t used to. Like she was taking me in, like she was seeing something she hadn’t before.
“I wasn’t expecting you to be gone.” I wouldn’t tell her the worry I’d felt, that the fear something had happened to her left me stressed and furious.
She sighed, unbuckled, and stepped out. I followed.
Inside, the living room was dimly lit as I shut the door. Claire lingered, fingers trailing over the back of the sofa like she had questions she didn’t know how to ask.
“You didn’t have to stay,” she said.
“I wanted to.”
She turned, eyes searching mine, and something about the way she held my gaze made my pulse shift. There was no irritation in her expression, no dismissal. Just quiet curiosity.
“I think they liked you,” she said, tilting her head slightly.
I huffed a short laugh. “Good. That means I wasn’t completely unbearable like usual.”
Her lips twitched—not quite a smile, but close. Close enough that something in my chest tightened.
And then, as if deciding something in real time, she stepped forward. The distance between us shrank and she moved in—wrapping her arms around me.
I stiffened at first, unprepared for the contact, but the moment I let myself settle, something inside me unknotted. She smelled like home—like a place I hadn’t realized I’d wanted until now. Not only that, but I wanted her. More than a hug, more than the kiss I’d almost planted on her the last time this happened. I’d kept my distance before, but with every passing second, that seemed more and more impossible.
I let my chin rest lightly against her hair, breathing her in, feeling the tension drain from my being.
Her hands slid up my back, pressed against me, steady, grounding, and for the first time, I felt I belonged.
Too much.
Because when I pulled back just enough to look at her, our faces were too close, her breath warm against my skin, her lips just barely parted. Her gaze darted back and forth between mine, as if she was… waiting. For what?
A fraction closer—just a breath, just a tilt—and I would have kissed her.
I could see it in the way her eyes flickered to my mouth, the way her fingers curled slightly against my back.
I moved back a step, careful to steady her so she wouldn’t fall. I couldn’t let this happen. The contract stated very clearly no physical intimacy beyond the necessary – like kissing her at our wedding or the wedding dance.
Neither of us spoke.
Without a word, I left the room, shaken by the night as a whole. I didn’t belong in her world, but the longer I stayed around Claire, the more it felt like I didn’t belong in mine, either.
The next day
She wasn’t supposed to know. The files weren’t meant to be found, but here she was, holding the evidence in her small, shaking hands. “What are these?” Claire’s confused, angry expression met mine.
“Walk away, Claire. Right now. Pretend you never saw this.” My words were meant to push her away, but she stood firm, eyes blazing. She was too close to the truth, too close to what I had buried. I saw the exact moment she understood— our contract, this careful arrangement, was not just a farce, but worse. The realization sent a jolt through both of us.
"When were you going to tell me?" Claire’s voice pierced the quiet of my office, her presence as unexpected as the files she clutched.
My throat tightened. She shouldn’t have seen those. "I wasn’t," I said, my voice sharp enough to cut.
Her eyes narrowed. "So, what is this? Some kind of game to you?"
"It doesn’t concern you," I said, standing. I reached for the files, but she didn’t let go.
"Doesn’t concern me? How does it not concern me when it’s about your brother and—" She stopped, the words almost choking her. "And Allison. What are you doing?"
I needed to shut this down, to push her away before she got any closer to the truth.
"Don’t," I said. "You don’t understand."
She took a breath, a flash of hurt crossing her features. "Then help me understand, Alexander. Why are you marrying me when it’s her you—"
"I said, don’t." I cut her off, my voice a warning. The edges of my control frayed as she continued to stand there, unyielding. She had no idea what she was digging into, the ghosts she was waking.
Her determination only grew. "You’re trying to sabotage your brother. I can tell you hate each other."
It was too close, too raw. My chest tightened with emotions I didn’t want to name. I grabbed the files, yanking them free. "I told you not to pry into my life. That was in the contract."
Claire didn’t flinch. Her gaze was fierce, as if daring me to admit what we both knew. "What is this, then?"
My hands clenched, and I turned away, unable to meet her eyes. "Think what you want," I said, my voice hollow, echoing the emptiness I felt. "You seem to forget I don’t answer to you."
I heard her breath hitch, saw the way her body tensed. She wasn’t leaving. She wasn’t giving up.
"Fine. But I’m still your wife." She stepped closer, fire still burning in her voice.
"In name only. A point you keep seeming to conveniently forget." The words hit like a punch, harder than anything I expected.
Her eyes locked onto mine, refusing to look away. "I thought..." she said, then stopped, the words trailing off.
"You thought what?" I asked, trying to regain control of a situation that was spiraling out of my grasp.
"This is just another one of your games."
Damn it. This was slipping through my fingers. "You needed the money," I said, a last-ditch attempt to deflect, to remind her of the bargain. "I didn’t hear you complaining."
"You don’t get to do that," she said, stepping so close I could feel the heat of her anger. "You don’t get to make this about me."
"Then what is it about, Claire?"
"It’s about your brother," she said, her voice steady. "It’s always been about him."
Something in my chest twisted painfully, and I struggled to breathe. The world I’d carefully constructed started to collapse, and Claire was at the center, so close to the truth, but not quite there. I moved to put distance between us, but she followed, relentless.
"You know what?" she said, her voice cutting through the air. "I don’t care. I don’t care what this is about. I don’t care about you trying to screw up your brother’s life. You deserve each other."
I jerked back, not expecting the sting of her words. "You should care."
"No," she said. " You should care. But you’re too damn proud."
She was right. Too close to the truth. Too close to everything I tried to bury. "Back off," I said, voice rough.
"Make me," she said, and for a moment, it wasn’t anger in her eyes but something far more dangerous.
She had crossed a line, or maybe I had. Her steps were slow, deliberate, closing the last of the distance between us. “Make me, Alexander.”
I should have moved away, should have kept her at arm's length, but I was drawn in, caught in the challenge of her voice.
“Prove this is all a game. That none of it is real. That you’re a man of honor who will uphold contracts.” She didn’t stop.
Didn’t falter. Her lips parted, and I prepared myself for whatever came next.
The emotions between us shifted ever so slightly, and for one reckless second, I almost let it consume us.
Almost grabbed her, pulled her into my arms, to take her, own her, make her mine.
She was too damn close.
To the truth. To me.
And then she stepped back.
With a tilt of her head, she whispered, “That’s what I thought.” Her retreat was sudden, almost painful.
My pulse hammered as I watched her, the realization setting in that this wasn’t going to hold.
She was the one breaking through, not me.
And it terrified the hell out of me.
Claire turned, her eyes meeting mine.
"Why are you so afraid?" she whispered, the question taunting me.
I had no answers. Claire turned and walked away, leaving me with nothing but the unbearable truth she’d almost uncovered.
Sleep had eluded me, so I planned instead.
I’d planned an escape, a break from the simmering tensions between Claire and me.
Instead, I found myself watching Claire.
She was luminous in a way I wasn’t prepared for, laughter spilling so easily from her lips, sunlight catching in her hair.
She was joy—unrestrained and unselfconscious—and it left me mesmerized.
Envious.
She shouldn’t have had this effect on me, but I was lying to myself if I thought otherwise.
When she teased me, I nearly snapped, but she just laughed, knowing exactly how to get under my skin.
It was almost as if she’d let yesterday’s argument go, while I was still stressing over it.
We’d escaped the city for a weekend, a trip arranged for the semblance of a relationship.
I should have been focused on keeping up appearances, but my eyes kept finding her, drinking in the way she embodied a freedom I didn’t allow myself.
Claire tossed me a grin.
"You look lost, Alexander. Need me to buy you a map?"
I bristled at the cheekiness of her words, though part of me marveled at her audacity.
"Very funny," I said, trying to sound disinterested.
Who needed a map on a well-marked trailhead?
She walked beside me, her pace relaxed.
Mine was not. I felt a jolt each time our shoulders brushed.
She made everything look effortless, as if happiness was her default state, while mine was nothing more than cold ambitions.
I was lying to myself if I thought she wasn’t affecting me.
Claire’s laughter rang out again as she watched a squirrel race up a nearby tree.
I glanced her way, unable to keep the irritation from my voice.
"Is there something amusing?"
"You," she said simply, her eyes dancing with mischief.
"I think you might actually be having fun."
I gave her a sideways glance, my mouth quirking despite myself.
"You think wrong."
"Right." She stretched the word, drawing it out like a taunt, then broke into a light jog ahead of me.
"I’ll let you catch up."
I was momentarily stunned by her nerve, by the sheer lightness of her being.
It took me a second to realize I was following her, my feet moving before my mind had time to protest. She knew what she was doing.
And worse, so did I.
My attempts to focus on anything but her were laughable.
I couldn’t deny the way she unsettled me, throwing off my every calculation.
I thought she’d still be mad, but no, things were comfortable and fun.
"Your girlfriend’s a firecracker," a passerby on the trail said with a knowing smile, as if he saw right through me.
I nodded, feeling a possessive edge creep into my voice.
"You have no idea."
Catching up with Claire at the top of the trail, I caught her marveling at the waterfall surrounded by thick, dark evergreens.
“I thought you’d never catch up,” she said, tossing a playful glance my direction.
The afternoon sun hung lazily in the sky as we walked back to our cabin.
I found myself stealing glances, noting how the light caught in her hair.
She caught me looking and flashed a smile that threatened to undo me.
"You know," she said, still teasing.
"You could try it sometime."
I frowned.
"Try what?"
"Enjoying yourself."
"I enjoy myself plenty," I said, knowing the words were a lie, watching her lithe movements as she veered off the path, crouching to examine a wildflower.
"Yeah, right," she said, disbelief lacing her tone.
"It’s so obvious, I don’t know how I missed it."
She was making fun of me, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
I was drawn in, lost in the way she saw the world.
The sun dipped lower, stretching shadows across our path, and still I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
She glanced back over her shoulder.
"You really think I’m wrong?"
I hesitated, feeling the warmth of the day seep into the cold spaces I carried.
"About me having fun? Yes, I think you’re wrong."
She shrugged.
"Is that so?"
"But I’m starting to think you might be right about something else," I said, the confession slipping out before I could stop it.
Claire slowed her pace, waiting for me to catch up.
"And what’s that?" she asked, curiosity mingling with delight.
I shook my head, refusing to say any more.
Her expression shifted, the teasing falling away to reveal something heartfelt, something unguarded.
It shook me more than I cared to admit.
The evening crept in, and we moved into the cabin, starting a fire in the fireplace and sitting side by side on the couch.
“I’m sorry for yesterday,” I said.
She shrugged. “You were right. It’s none of my business, and the contract says I’m not allowed to ask questions. I’m just holding up my end.”
That stung, and I wasn’t sure why.
"It’s nice here," she said, her voice gentler than before.
"Quiet."
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
"Kind of makes you wonder, doesn’t it?" she continued, eyes fixed on the flickering flames.
"Wonder what?"
She turned to me, her gaze intense and searching.
"What it would be like if things were... different."
Her words were an invitation, one I knew I shouldn’t accept but desperately wanted to.
"You mean without a contract."
"Yeah," she said, breath catching just enough to make me regret asking.
"Without that."
It was too dangerous a line of thinking.
"I admire you," I said, my voice rough, unfamiliar.
"The way you find joy in everything."
Claire stilled, and for a moment, everything else did too.
"Alexander," she whispered, sending a shiver through me that I refused to acknowledge.
"Don’t," I said, voice low and edged with need.
"Why?" she breathed, inching closer, her warmth drawing me in like a gravitational pull.
I glanced at her, ready to remind her that the contract—
Her lips met mine, sweet and explosive all at once.
I felt her urgency, the same urgency that drove me to wrap my arms around her, pulling her into my lap in a way we had no business being.
A smart man would have stopped.
Clearly, I wasn’t a smart man.
Her lips were soft, but responding with a fire that matched my own.
We were a tangle of contradictions—heat and cold, sweetness and desire—and she was matching me, beat for beat.
She moved against me, her body arching, and I lost whatever pretense of control I thought I had.
Claire’s hands found their way to my hair, her fingers raking through in a way that sent jolts of need racing through me.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
And yet, the way she kissed me back made me think maybe it was inevitable.
I gripped her waist, meaning to steady her, but the touch ignited something deeper, pulling us closer than I thought possible.
She was straddling me on the couch in the cabin, a fire at her back and one before her, yet somehow, it all felt right, no matter how hard I tried to remind myself this was wrong.
When we finally pulled apart, gasping for breath and clarity, the night seemed impossibly silent around us.
I watched her, saw the change in her eyes, knew she was scrambling for control just like me.
Claire’s lips were red, her breathing uneven.
I wanted to pull her back in, to never let her go, but I couldn’t.
I shouldn’t.
"I didn’t mean for that..." I said, words tumbling over the chaos of my thoughts.
She caught my face in her hands, silencing me.
"Don’t," she said again, but this time it wasn’t a plea; it was a challenge, a refusal to let me retreat behind the walls I’d built.
She kissed me again, softer but no less consuming.
I let her lead, undeniably desiring her – my body was surely giving that away, if she even understood what that meant – and she felt the same way.
I knew by the way her lips lingered, in the way my heart slammed against my ribcage like it was trying to break free.
This was against the rules, it was stupid, it was reckless.
Yet I couldn’t bring myself to push her away, to shut her down, to hurt her with rejection.
And honestly, I didn’t want to.
She finally pulled back, her eyes locked on mine.
Her warmth seeped into my clothing, my skin, my bones.
I didn’t understand how I’d gotten here, how I’d let this happen, but I couldn’t bring myself to regret it or stop.
Not with the way she looked at me.
Damn it, I should have known better.