Chapter Seven
Claire
One week later
I woke up on my birthday expecting a call from my mom and brother wishing me a happy birthday.
I was wrong.
Alexander clearly had plans.
The thing was, he wasn’t supposed to actually notice me.
Not at our wedding, and definitely not enough to care.
My fingers trembled over the piano keys, not yet playing.
He must have seen the confusion in my eyes because his lips curled into the hint of a smile.
I watched his hands move, tinkling out a haunting melody before low notes crept in.
The music settled in my chest, rattling the parts I thought were safely still.
I didn’t understand this side of him—generous, perceptive, warm—but maybe I didn’t need to.
Not right now. The night stretched in front of me, full of promises I’d never let myself want.
"Happy birthday, Claire," he whispered.
It was absurd, but my breath caught.
A tidal rush of emotions hit me, and I scrambled to hide it behind a shaky laugh.
I was Claire Reed, eldest daughter, selfless and sacrificial.
Happy birthdays weren’t my style.
My gaze drifted back to the piano.
"You’re full of surprises, Alexander," I said, aiming for casual, though my voice betrayed more.
"You haven’t even heard it yet," he replied, settling beside me.
The brush of his shoulder was warm, sending a traitorous flutter through me.
I focused on the keys, as if pressing the smooth, cool ivory could tether me back to reality.
"This was yours," I breathed, trailing off as the weight of it all sank in.
He was Alexander Reed, icy CEO with more money than anyone deserved, and he was giving me parts of himself.
"I can’t—"
"You can." His voice was soft, but there was steel in it, firm and convincing.
He began to play, showing me some simple scales, and his presence loomed larger than life.
I couldn’t help but watch his hands move, graceful and practiced, not just on the piano but on the task of dismantling every idea I had about him.
“I noticed you wanted to play at our wedding.”
He remembered that?
The memory of wanting to touch the keys, but knowing I didn’t belong rose up in me.
But now, in his world, in his home, in this breathtaking universe he’d created for me, I felt I was beginning to belong after all.
“No more excuses,” he said.
The music filled the room, notes circling and mixing with the low hum of the city outside.
My heart strained against each moment, wanting more but fearing it.
Alexander looked different here, illuminated by the afternoon light.
I had the strangest feeling that, for the first time, he wasn’t pretending to be someone – or something - he wasn’t.
The table was set with delicate china and crystal, and everything looked exquisite, expensive.
I wanted to touch it, but more than that, I wanted to believe it.
"Come on, let’s eat," he said, an easy confidence in his voice that made my stomach flip.
I didn’t move right away, lingering on the piano.
I wasn’t used to receiving gifts like this, ones that couldn’t be given away or repurposed.
My sister would never want this, my mind teased, but the sting that used to come with the thought was absent.
Maybe I was beginning to let myself have things that were just mine.
Dinner was beautiful.
There were little lamb chops and roasted vegetables, the kind of food I would normally only admire in glossy magazines while eating reheated leftovers.
I took a deep breath, inhaling the rich aromas.
"You know I’m a simple girl, right?" I said, an attempt to lighten the weighty air.
Alexander smirked. "It’s your birthday, Claire. Let’s pretend you’re not."
We sat across from each other, and I couldn’t stop thinking that it was infuriating how charming he was when he let himself be.
Like he had pulled a mask away and revealed something sincere and dazzling underneath.
"Do you always get what you want?" I asked, curiosity slipping out before I could pull it back.
His eyes met mine, steady and unwavering.
"Not always," he said, a shadow crossing his features.
Then he smiled, the expression softening the edge of his admission.
"But I’m patient."
It was enough to silence me, my mind spinning on what he might have meant.
Patient for what? For whom?
But I didn’t want to overthink it.
For the first time in a long time, I didn’t want to ruin the moment with too many questions.
Questions I wasn’t supposed to ask anyway.
We ate, we laughed, and I found myself less guarded, more willing to be pulled into his glittering and bright world.
He told me stories about the piano when he was a kid, how he’d carved something into the back of it.
One of many fixes he’d made when restoring the thing for me.
My thoughts tangled, trying to make sense of this Alexander and the one I’d married, the one I’d worked for and been curious about from afar.
I’d expected tonight to be awkward, a required gesture from a man who didn’t care.
But this was real, so real I could feel it tightening around my heart.
After dinner, we returned to the piano.
My heart was so full it felt like it would burst. He gave me a sidelong glance, eyebrows raised in a playful challenge.
I didn’t resist, not really.
How could I? Not when our sham marriage had become…
this. Whatever this was.
"It’s beautiful," I said, my voice almost a whisper.
"I never thought—"
"You’ve got to start expecting more," he said, and there was something intense in his eyes, something that made my skin flush with awareness.
Of everything he’d given me, the way he knew me was the most startling.
I wanted to cling to the simplicity of needing money, of needing this advantage, of needing anything that wasn’t him.
But he made it impossible to pretend.
Alexander sat close, watching me like I was the most fascinating puzzle he’d ever attempted to solve.
My fingers hovered over the keys again, hesitating in that same familiar way.
"You’ve wanted this for a long time," he said.
I nodded, the motion so slight it was more a release of breath than an admission.
He reached across, his arm brushing against mine, and placed his hand over mine on the keys.
The contact burned in a way that sent a dizzy, helpless thrill through me.
I wasn’t used to being seen.
I wasn’t used to being anything.
His voice was lower, more intimate.
"Let me show you something."
Alexander demonstrated a simple melody, guiding my fingers, showing a tenderness that unraveled the tightly coiled reservations I’d brought with me into this arrangement.
His attention felt like a spotlight, illuminating corners of my heart that hadn’t seen light in years.
I looked at him, stunned that he’d bothered to see me.
"I didn’t know you could actually play." I’d assumed he’d maybe learned a song to appease his parents not that he’d truly learned.
"There’s a lot you don’t know about me," he said, a trace of humor there.
"Yet."
Yet. How dare he hint at tomorrows when we had a set number of them before he ejected me from his life forever?
He was so close I could feel the warmth radiating off him, drawing me in with a force I didn’t have the strength or will to resist. It was terrifying and exhilarating, knowing he saw through every layer I tried to keep between us.
There didn’t seem to be a point in trying to hide from him, he knew me far too well already.
As if he’d committed every detail of every action, conversation, every hint I’d ever given.
"Happy birthday, Claire," he said again, this time just a breath away, the words wrapping around me like a promise I’d only ever dreamed of hearing.
The next afternoon, I made the choice to go visit him at work.
Bad idea. I didn’t know how I kept winding up in situations where I was overhearing things I shouldn’t.
Maybe I needed to wear bells or something to announce my presence.
Or maybe I needed to start calling or texting Alexander to make sure now was a good time.
The heat of embarrassment and confusion washed over me, but I couldn’t leave.
I couldn’t stop watching them, the way she leaned in, like she wanted to know every one of his secrets.
"You know this won’t last, Alexander," she said, looking past him, right at me.
My chest constricted.
She knew I was there.
I didn’t think he did.
I couldn’t breathe. I shouldn’t be here.
But I was rooted in place, helpless and stupid, waiting for him to say something, anything to prove her wrong.
Alexander’s jaw tensed.
His shoulders squared.
I knew the look. It was the one he got when he was losing patience, when he was dangerously close to saying something cutting.
"Does she know the truth, Alexander?" Allison asked, and her laughter cut like knives.
I hated the way they hit my heart, sinking in deep and painful.
"Did you tell her everything?"
I froze.
I shouldn’t hear this.
I didn’t want to hear this.
But there I was, caught in their words with every passing second making it more impossible for me to speak up and let him know I was here.
I hated the feeling of straining to understand what felt impossibly out of reach.
I waited for him to say no, to shut her down with that cool finality he was so good at.
But he didn’t. Not right away.
Allison turned, slow and deliberate.
Her eyes met mine with something like victory, and I hated the way it stung.
She knew I was listening.
She’d known the whole time.
My throat was tight.
My voice wouldn’t work.
"Oh, look," she said, her tone all sweetness and spite.
"I didn’t realize we had company."
Alexander’s gaze flicked to me, finally.
He was impassive, but something stormed beneath his expression.
It was only a split second, but it was enough to tell me she was right, and I was wrong, and my whole world was upended.
"You should leave now," Alexander said, his voice too calm, too controlled.
It wasn’t an invitation.
It was a dismissal.
It was everything I couldn’t handle hearing.
Was he talking to me…
or her?
Allison’s eyes sparkled with malice as she slipped past me, her smile edged with triumph.
The sound of her heels clicked against the polished floors, each step a reminder that she belonged here in a way I never would.
Her last look was a warning—a reminder of how fragile and temporary my place in Alexander’s life was, even if she didn’t know it.
Alexander stood there, unmoving, a beautiful, immovable statue.
I waited for him to break the silence, to give me something, anything to hold onto.
But he didn’t. He watched me, too careful, like he was debating whether or not to let me in on the truth.
"That sounded like a lovely conversation," I said, my voice smaller than I wanted it to be, but somehow still upbeat.
He didn’t answer. He didn’t flinch.
But he almost smiled.
Almost. I was proud of myself before his words sliced me to the bone.
"You shouldn’t be here," he said.
The ugly words were hard and unforgiving.
I nodded, internally fighting to keep my composure, even though he’d hurt my feelings.
I wanted to make some snide comment about if she should be here, or ask if his brother was hiding in a closet, or what the heck was going on.
But I said nothing.
He was right, I should never have come.
I waited a second longer than I should have.
I waited a lifetime too long.
“Why?” I asked, holding my breath.
My heart stumbled. My pulse hammered.
And this, this was what I’d wanted to avoid all along.
I was a fool to think anything else was possible.
I was a fool to think last night had changed a single thing.
He didn’t answer.
"I guess I’ll go then," I whispered, finally looking away, finally conceding defeat.
I turned before he could see the pain that hit my throat or the tears that threatened to spill.
And as I left, I heard it.
Alexander exhaled sharply, as if letting go of all the stress of the day, along with the stress I’d caused him.
No confession. No apology.
No calling me back. It was nothing at all.
The next day, in his car, we made our way to the doctor, more show in our pretend efforts to start a family and throw the media off the scent of our so-called fake marriage.
“I think we need to discuss the contract,” I said.
“No.” The word was so damn final it almost made me mad.
But anger wouldn’t get me anywhere with Alexander, and I knew it.
"Why?" I asked wondering why he wouldn’t even talk to me about it.
Things had undeniably changed between us, and I thought the contract needed revisiting.
Alexander hesitated.
I hated that more than anything.
Did he think I was too fragile or too stupid to talk openly?
Or was he just not interested in working with me at all?
His jaw clenched. "I don’t want to hurt you, Claire."
I blinked, stunned by the words.
He shifted closer, a movement so slight but so significant that it left me trembling.
How could he still have this power over me, after everything?
He didn’t touch me, but he didn’t have to.
I already felt it.
“Hurt me how?”
“In any possible way.”
That didn’t make sense.
“How would discussing the contract hurt me?”
He was silent, his hands tightening around the wheel until the rich leather squeaked in protest.
The words left me with more questions than answers, but he didn’t seem interested in helping me understand.
Typical. The man was a thorn in the skin between my thumb and index finger.
One of the really small ones that you can’t see but can feel the sting every time it moves.
The car ride was silent, and so was the doctor’s visit.
When we got back to the penthouse, I still didn’t understand.
Not him, not myself, not the mess we’d created that he seemed so against fixing or working on.
When he said my name, I had high hopes he’d reconsidered.
"Claire, you need to know. You have a security detail now."
I blinked, thrown by the words.
Why did I need protection?
Simple answer, I didn’t.
Was this another method to control me?
Maybe to make it so I stopped walking in on him at inopportune times?
"What are you talking about?"
He looked at me like I should already know.
"You’ll have a small team with you. At all times."
The defiance surged up before I could stop it.
"I don’t need a bodyguard, much less a team of them," I said, my voice loud in the empty space.
"You do now," he said, his tone so maddeningly final that I wanted to scream.
I grumbled, crossing my arms, trying to remind myself that I didn’t owe him anything.
Didn’t owe him compliance or gratitude or anything more than I was already giving.
"I can take care of myself," I said, a flash of anger in my voice, because anger was easier than fear, easier than letting him win.
If he thought I needed protecting…
he probably knew something I didn’t.
Not that he’d tell me if I asked.
Alexander watched me with an unreadable expression, one that kept me guessing, kept me hoping.
"That’s not the point," he said, his voice quieter now, but with an intensity that was impossible to ignore.
"If people start thinking you’re pregnant with my baby…" He trailed off, and I saw the way his jaw tightened, so hard I expected him to break a tooth or three.
Those words… the thought of being pregnant with his baby…
My cheeks went red. We’d have to, uh, do something for that to happen.
But since our kisses at the cabin, he’d been a lot more careful.
I think he’d been surprised, as much as I was, maybe.
I didn’t want to admit I craved the sensation of his lips on mine again.
My resolve had thinned to nearly nothing, to the point of failing.
It was inevitable. I couldn’t stop it, just like I couldn’t stop the way he made me feel.
I was falling for him.
For the real him. For the idea of him that was taking root in my heart, no matter how hard I fought against it.
What.
A.
Disaster.
"Fine," I said, the word sharp and quick, before it could betray me by sounding like anything but reluctance.
I turned away, wishing I could miss the ghost of a smile that played on his lips, the look that said he knew he’d won.
I hated myself for conceding, hated the way I already felt safer because of it.
I hated him for being so frustratingly immovable.
And I hated the way that immovability made my pulse race in ways it never had before.
I needed to get away, escape, something.
So, I waited for him to get a phone call he took back to his office and slipped out to go get a coffee at my favorite place.
It wasn’t until after I’d gotten my vanilla lavender latte and left the building that I heard a voice I’d hoped to never hear again.
My former boss. He was making his way toward me, arms crossed, eyes full of ill intent.
"Claire," he said, his voice filled with false warmth.
"Long time no see."
My breath hitched, and the panic was sudden and complete.
I thought about the security Alexander had insisted on, but there was no one here, no one but him and me.
My former boss. The pervert.
The guy with nothing but bad intentions.
He got closer, and I realized I was wrong about so many things.
He was more intense than before.
I was less strong than I thought.
"Looks like your new man can’t keep up with you," he said, his voice low as he scanned the space around me, searching for a missing Alexander.
"Why don’t we go somewhere… private and catch up?"
I froze, every muscle locked in fear and indecision.
My mind was blank, my escape routes vanished.
I felt like I was back in his office, back in that place where I had no power and no options.
It was happening again.
"I—I have to go." I stepped back, trying to escape him on busy streets where I knew no one would come to my rescue if he grabbed me and tried dragging me away.
He reached for my arm.
"Claire," Alexander’s voice made my heart leap into my throat.
Alexander was at my side, sudden and imposing, his presence an iron wall between me and the threat.
He stood there, tall and unwavering, and everything changed in an instant.
The power shifted. The fear dissolved.
My former boss stepped back, his confidence shaken, and in a flash of resentment and defeat, he left.
He disappeared into the chaos of the city, leaving me reeling and breathless.
Alexander didn’t say I told you so.
He didn’t gloat or chide me for not taking him seriously.
He just stood there, his eyes on me, his expression as unreadable and infuriating as ever.
We left quickly, walking back to his place, with nothing but silence between us.
I didn’t speak, afraid that if I opened my mouth, the tears would come.
I was still shaking, still unable to believe I’d let myself be this vulnerable, this exposed.
I stopped moving for a second, and my breath caught.
Alexander’s eyes were on my hands, checking for the tremor I couldn’t quite hide.
I hadn’t even realized he was watching me like that, so closely, so carefully.
His gaze was too much, and yet not enough.
"You noticed I left and knew where I’d go," I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
Alexander exhaled slowly, like he’d been holding that breath, holding it until he could be sure I was okay.
He nodded, the tension leaving his body in one long, quiet release.
"Of course, I noticed," he said, his voice steady, and I knew he was talking about more than me leaving – he was talking about the fear making me shake, the close call, the fact that I’d messed up, probably.
I turned toward him, and I noticed something too.
How his fingers twitched at his side, a small movement that made me realize how much he’d held back, how much he’d wanted to rearrange my ex-boss’ face.
It was that restraint, that invisible touch, that undid me more than any words or actions ever could.
"I always notice, Claire," he said softly, and the sincerity in his voice was as terrifying as it was comforting.
"Even when you think I don’t."
I was trembling, but not from fear, now.
Not from my former boss or the way he’d cornered me, exposed me, left me terrified and desperate.
No, I was trembling because Alexander Reed, billionaire CEO with a cold heart and colder expression, was turning out to be more dangerous than I ever imagined.
He saw me. And despite everything, I started to think I was beginning to see him too.