Chapter Fourteen
Alexander
The angry knock and seeing Claire on the camera startled me.
I hadn’t thought she would come here.
Why show up now? And why show up angry?
I’d honored my end of the deal like I promised, with gratuity because I knew things had been hard on her.
She was gripping a paper with her delicate fingers, the edges crumpled, her cheeks flushed with something hot and impossible to ignore.
Her eyes blazed as she slammed it on the counter and slid it to me.
“Take it back.” Her voice echoed in the silence.
I didn’t react, my expression cool and unreadable.
I had anticipated this, anticipated her stubbornness, just not exactly in this manner.
“That’s not how this works,” I said, my voice even and controlled.
Her breath was fast, her pulse practically audible and visible in her neck.
A neck I wanted to press my lips to, to savor her softness.
It did things to me, seeing her like this.
Things I couldn’t quite ignore.
But I kept myself collected, watching her lose her grip as if I were merely an observer.
The damn bank statement lay between us like a declaration of war.
“I don’t care,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady, and failing beautifully.
“You earned it.” I held her gaze, a challenge in the calmness.
“And I always pay my debts.”
Her eyes flashed, emotion and confusion warring within them.
“I broke the contract. I left. That means I earned nothing.”
My name was still on her.
She was still Claire Reed.
But she didn’t bring that up; an interesting note to me.
No, here she was, stubborn as ever, determined to bring me to my knees in a way we’d both enjoy.
I exhaled, slowly, calculating how far I could push her, how far she’d let me push her.
I stepped closer, planted my elbows on the marble island that separated us, feeling the tension ratchet up with every passing second.
“You’re being irrational.”
The accusation didn’t faze her.
It seemed to feed something fierce in her.
“I want nothing from you, Alexander.” The way she said my name—like a curse.
It sent heat through me, unwanted, unwelcome, impossible to stop.
“Except your freedom.” I nodded at the paper.
“This guarantees that all contractual obligations have been fulfilled.” I should have known this wouldn’t be easy.
She was desperate, yes.
That much was clear from the moment she’d asked to come back to the company.
But it was this desperation that made her dangerous, that made her all the more intoxicating.
She wasn’t going to let this go, just like she hadn’t let us go until she just couldn’t stand me anymore.
Who could blame her?
I’m an insufferable asshole.
Her lips parted, but she seemed out of things to say.
I narrowed my eyes, refusing to concede, refusing to let her see she’d gotten under my skin.
Again. That I wanted nothing more than to drag her onto this island and give her everything, take everything from her, make her mine.
“You agreed to the terms. I’m holding up my end. It’s time for you to uphold yours – accept payment.”
I watched her, seeing the war inside her.
Her family’s needs, her pride, the way I had dragged her into this whole damn mess.
I didn’t expect it would make her any less defiant, but I needed her to hear it.
“Why did you agree to take the money if you didn’t want it?” I asked, watching her squirm under the question.
Her eyes turned colder, matching the chill I tried to maintain.
“I had no choice,” she said quietly.
The fight was still there, beneath the surface, but there was something else too.
A rawness. A hurt that tightened in my chest. “But now I do. Take it back.”
Damn her.
Damn her persistence.
Her ability to cut right through my barriers like they weren’t even there.
“You’re not listening.” I was firm, colder than I felt.
Much colder than the heat that had flared when she’d walked through the door, every nerve ending reacting to her presence.
She looked ready to either slap me or cry.
I wasn’t sure which was worse.
“No, you’re not listening.” Her voice broke, full of emotion she couldn’t hide.
Her resolve seemed unbreakable.
And maybe it was. Maybe that was part of what had drawn me to her in the first place.
A challenge. “I meant what I said, Alexander. I want nothing from you. Not after this. Not after...” She didn’t finish.
She didn’t have to.
And there it was.
The ache I hadn’t been able to shake since she’d left.
The wanting. Her body was close enough to touch.
Her lips, full of fire and power, were too damn tempting.
I could pull her to me.
I could say the words that would have her trembling and ready to accept me.
But instead, I did nothing.
I stood there, watching her, every part of me screaming to end this, to fix this, to fix her.
To fix us.
But I said nothing.
And I let her go.
Again.
Because it was the right thing to do.
Claire walked out, and she didn’t even turn around.
But someone else was at the door.
I heard my mother’s voice, how she said something to Claire before finding me in the kitchen.
Lucky me. I let out a sigh.
Her lips pressed into a thin line when she saw me.
And then, something unexpected—something that threw me off-balance even more than Claire’s confrontation.
“It’s over,” I said, trying to sound unaffected, but my mother’s stare told me I was failing miserably.
She didn’t miss a beat, didn’t miss the way my composure had cracked.
“I doubt that,” she replied, with a certainty that was infuriating.
I straightened, trying to regain control of the situation.
“Your lack of doubt has no bearing on reality,” I said.
I watched her, watched the way she surveyed the room, piecing together what had happened without me saying a word.
Her gaze scanned the bank statement before I could get it out of sight.
She took a step closer, and her focus shifted, grew more intent.
“Alexander,” she said, her tone softening in a way that unsettled me.
“What did you do?”
There was a time when those words had the power to shame me.
Now they just felt like an invasion.
I shrugged, trying for nonchalance, trying to convince both of us.
“She wanted to leave. I let her.”
Her eyes narrowed, sharp and knowing.
She wasn’t buying it.
“She’s hurt,” she said, stating the obvious, the same way she might comment on the weather or the decor.
“I could see it on her face.”
That stung more than it should have.
“She’s fine,” I said, but it was a lie, and we both knew it.
We stood in silence for a moment.
My mother crossed her arms, watching me with an intensity that felt almost surgical.
“She didn’t look fine,” she said.
“She looked like you’ve done something dreadful.”
I exhaled slowly, feeling the pressure of her expectation.
“I didn’t do anything,” I said, trying to maintain my defenses.
But the silence in the room, the way Claire had looked at me—all of it conspired against me.
She raised an eyebrow.
“Didn’t you?”
I turned away, needing distance, needing to not see the accusation in her eyes.
“She wanted out.” She wasn’t going to get anything else out of me.
My mother didn’t let up.
“Did you even try to stop her?”
That hit hard.
Too hard. Like a punch to the gut that left me seeing stars.
I couldn’t answer. Not without giving away more than I could afford to.
She sighed, the sound both exasperated and pitying.
“Alexander, if you don’t—”
“What do you expect me to do?” I asked, sharper than intended.
She could pretend she had all the answers.
I’d listen.
“Whatever it takes to fix this,” she said, the words striking like an ultimatum.
Fix it. If only she knew.
If only I knew how. But before I could respond, before I could defend myself or confess or whatever the hell it was I was trying to do, the doorbell chimed, and my head snapped up.
Claire.
She’d come back.
Had she forgotten something?
My mother smiled, warm and relieved, as if she had schemed this entire thing.
“Claire, darling,” she said, crossing the room in a graceful stride, arms open.
Claire hesitated, trying to read the situation.
But she accepted the hug, squeezing her eyes closed like she was trying to keep tears away.
That ached, knowing she was in so much pain and I couldn’t help her.
Not without making things worse.
When they parted, she took Claire’s hand, her expression softening in a way that twisted something in me.
“I was just telling Alexander we’d like to help you.”
I felt like I’d been punched.
She ignored me, her focus entirely on Claire.
“Alexander’s father and I. We want to do whatever we can. Besides, there might be a bun in that oven.” Though she reached, she stopped short of patting Claire’s belly.
Claire went red, clearly embarrassed, for all of the reasons.
For a moment, I thought she might actually accept their help.
And I was ready to be furious and call her on her double standard.
We both knew there was no baby.
But then the familiar defiance flashed across her features, and I knew.
I knew she wouldn’t make it easy.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice small but determined.
“But I can’t. I really can’t.”
My mother held her gaze, undeterred.
“We’d like to help financially, if you’ll let us. We can’t have a grandchild of ours taking you into poverty.”
The words hit like a hammer.
I felt myself tensing, worried about how Claire would respond to what probably felt like a slap across the face.
Claire looked away.
I braced myself, waiting for her to spill it all, to tell my mother everything, to ruin me as completely as she had the power to – as I deserved her to.
But she didn’t.
“No, thank you. But it’s very kind of you to offer,” she said, finally.
Her tone was guarded but genuine.
I stared at her, disbelief mixing with a grudging admiration.
She could have exposed me, could have destroyed everything.
But instead, she let me keep my damn secrets.
“Of course,” my mother said, as if she hadn’t just turned my world upside down.
“Let us know if you change your mind. The offer doesn’t expire.”
Claire nodded, clearly grateful.
“Did you forget something?” I asked, wondering why she’d shown back up.
She shook her head. “No, I thought I did, but I didn’t.” With one last glanced at me, she turned and left.
And this time, I knew she was gone for good.
My mother watched her go, her expression worried, and then she turned back to me.
“Don’t lose her, Alexander,” she said, a warning filling her voice.
“You’ll regret it forever.”
She was right.
But I didn’t respond.
I couldn’t.
I already lost her.
And it was entirely my fault.
Later that day
I didn’t go to Claire’s family home to argue with her.
I stood on the porch, needing to see her.
Needing to understand why my mother’s words were still in my head.
Needing to make sure she was okay.
She opened the door, and for a moment, everything I meant to say vanished.
Her expression was unreadable, and we stood there, until someone else showed up.
Claire’s sister. She strolled in like she owned the place, like she’d expected to find us there.
“I was just about to ask Alexander out to dinner,” she said.
The look in Claire’s eyes surprised me.
Maybe she hadn’t given up.
Maybe she still held out hope for us.
Jen glanced between us, her smile knowing and annoyingly satisfied.
“So, what do you say, Alexander? Care for dinner with some good company for once?”
Claire’s face tensed, every line in her body screaming irritation.
I had no patience for her money-grubbing ways and manipulative behavior.
“No,” I said flatly.
“I’m here to see Claire.”
Jen pouted, unfazed.
“Oh, come on. The two of us could have so much fun.”
I ignored her, turning my attention back to Claire.
She looked tired, worn, like the battle had finally started taking its toll.
“I meant what I said yesterday,” I said, needing her to hear it, needing her to know this wasn’t over.
“It’s yours.” I was referring to the money, but covertly because I knew how Jen was.
Her expression shifted from irritation at Jen to anger at me.
But before she could respond, Jen laughed, a sound that grated against every last nerve.
“You two are adorable,” she said, oblivious to the tension between us.
“Jen,” Claire said, but there was a resigned weariness in her voice.
“Alright, alright.” Jen threw her hands up in mock surrender.
“I’ll let you two have your little moment.”
Relief flooded me as she walked off, humming to herself.
Claire’s shoulders almost seemed to relax.
But the interruption had thrown everything off, and I didn’t know how to start again.
“Claire,” I said, uncertain how to do this.
“Why are you here?” she asked, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
The question wasn’t unexpected, but it was still difficult to answer.
Because I didn’t know.
Not fully. Not anymore.
“Your family,” I said, grasping at the one thing that might convince her, the one thing she couldn’t ignore.
“You need this.”
She flinched, the words hitting harder than I intended.
“You think you can just come here and—”
“I think,” I said, stepping closer, the heat between us sparking back to life – not that it ever stopped for me, “that you don’t understand what you’re giving up.”
Her laugh was harsh.
“I understand perfectly.”
“Do you?” I asked.
“I understand that you’re trying to control everything, Alexander.” The way she said my name—again, with all that anger, all that need—left me wanting her more than ever before.
“That’s not—” I said, then stopped, swallowed, and tried again.
“I’m trying to help you.”
She shook her head, a bitter smile tugging at her lips.
“No, you’re trying to help yourself.”
That accusation struck deep, too deep, right to the heart of me.
“Is that what you really think?” I asked, softer now, but still charged, still refusing to back down.
This battle was worth fighting and dying for.
Her eyes locked onto mine, a silent, searing battle.
But before she could answer, before I could finally get through to her, Jen reappeared, breezing back into the room with a casual arrogance that made me clench my teeth.
“Changed my mind,” she said, smiling too brightly.
“We’re all going out.”
For a moment, I thought Claire might slap her.
That alone would be enough for me to double what I’d paid her, and then some.
But Claire was silent, fury radiating from her.
It matched my own.
“Jen,” I said.
“We’re busy.”
She didn’t care.
Or she didn’t notice.
“Too busy for food? Never.”
“Jen,” Claire said again, more forcefully, but Jen only grinned, mistaking the heat in the room for something else.
“Don’t be mad,” she teased, winking.
“I know you two need some alone time. I’ll just—”
“Leave!” Claire said, her voice breaking with fury.
“Just leave , Jen!”
The outburst shocked all of us.
Claire was breathing hard, her fists clenched, her body a live wire of anger and pain.
Jen’s eyes widened in disbelief.
“Wow,” she said, dragging the word out with dramatic flair.
“No need to get all emotional.”
Claire turned away, like she couldn’t stand to see her sister for another second, couldn’t stand any of it.
“Just go,” she said, softer now, but with a finality that left no room for argument.
Jen looked at me, her expression almost amused.
“Good luck with that one,” she said, jerking her head toward Claire.
“Come to me when you want a good woman.”
I was beginning to think she didn’t know the meaning of the words.
Then she flounced out, leaving a void as big as her ego in the room.
Claire pulled me inside and closed and locked the door behind me.
We stood there, the silence between us hotter than the fight with Jen had been.
Claire wouldn’t look at me.
I couldn’t look away from her.
“Why?” I asked at last. I needed to know, I couldn’t keep the question bottled up anymore.
She didn’t answer.
But the silence was enough.
It told me everything, and nothing, and more than I could handle.
And when she spoke, I felt the crush of defeat.
“Please don’t come back, Alexander.”
I finally, knew I had failed.
Knew I might not have another chance.
And as I stood there, shellshocked, I didn’t see her struggling with the same overwhelming emotions that had just wrecked me.
I didn’t see her anger breaking, didn’t see her softening.
All I knew was I’d pushed her too far, and she had let me go.
And I deserved so much worse.