Chapter 5 #2
I jumped out, cheeks flaming, stammering apologies before I even saw what—or who—I’d hit. Then I looked up and there he was: Aleksander, standing beside his car, one eyebrow arched, a smirk already tugging at his lips.
He wasn’t angry. If anything, he looked amused, dark eyes glinting as he took in my flustered expression.
I remember how mortified I felt, words tumbling out in a nervous rush. “I’m so sorry, I swear I never do this, I just—”
He held up a hand, a slight, almost teasing smile softening his features. “Relax. Barely a scratch. Happens to the best of us.” His gaze lingered on me for a heartbeat too long, as if he already knew I’d remember this moment.
I managed a laugh, still pink with embarrassment. “I must look like a disaster.”
He grinned wider. “Just a little. But the cute kind.”
Now, sitting next to him again, his eyes on mine, I feel that old nervous energy flicker through me. I focus on my daughter, on the steady thrum of the plane beneath my feet, anything but Aleksander’s knowing gaze.
He lets the silence stretch, but I can feel him watching, waiting—like he knows there’s still so much I’m not telling him.
He’s looking at me like he wants to strip away every layer, to get at the secrets I’m so desperate to keep hidden. The way a wolf watches the dark woods for a flash of red, patient but hungry.
After that awkward fender bender, I’d expected him to brush me off, maybe ask for my insurance and move on.
But Aleksander lingered, holding the door for me as the valet finished parking our cars.
He offered to help carry my bags, and something about the way he took control—effortless, commanding, never asking for permission—sent a jolt of anticipation through me.
I caught him watching me, his eyes roaming over me, cataloguing every detail. Not in a leering way—more like he was reading a map, trying to memorize the route.
“You travel alone often?” he asked, that accent curling around the words, making them sound like a dare.
“Not really,” I said, a little breathless. “Just…when I have to.”
He stepped closer, his body blocking out the sun for a moment, making me feel smaller, almost prey. I should’ve felt intimidated, but I didn’t. I felt seen. Desired. It was unsettling, how quickly I wanted to trust him, how much I wanted to know what he’d do if I let my guard down.
His hand brushed mine as he passed over the last of my luggage. A spark shot through me, warm and electric. I looked up, met his gaze—and the world shrank down to just the two of us, city noise and strangers fading to nothing.
“If you ever need help,” he said quietly, leaning in so only I could hear, “just ask.”
And then he was gone, striding away, leaving me rooted to the spot—heart racing, skin tingling, unable to forget the feel of his eyes on me.
Now, on the plane, the years have only deepened whatever existed in that first look.
Aleksander sits impossibly close, and I sense the same hunger in him—a pull I can’t escape.
I steal a glance at his hands, remembering the way they gripped my hips, the way they made me feel in the bathroom, claimed, possessed.
It scares me, how much I still want that, even with all the reasons I should run.
His voice, low and velvet-dark, breaks through my thoughts. “You never did ask for help,” he murmurs, a sly smile flickering at the corner of his mouth, eyes trained on my face. “You always did like to do things the hard way.”
I flush, but I hold his gaze. There’s challenge there, but also longing. “Sometimes I wish I’d let you in sooner.”
His eyes darken, lips parting just slightly. “It’s not too late, Bella.”
The promise in his tone—the warning—makes my heart thump so loudly I’m sure he can hear it. I can’t tell if I’m Little Red, or if I’ve always wanted to be chased.
But Aleksander is patient, the wolf at the door, waiting for me to decide if I’ll let him in.
Against all reason, I feel myself leaning in, drawn to Aleksander like there’s a gravity between us.
The soft hum of the cabin fades, my world narrowing to the taste of his breath, the heat rolling off his body.
His hand finds mine, his thumb brushing the inside of my wrist, and it’s almost enough to make me forget where we are. Forget the risks. Forget the secrets.
I’m just about to close the last inch between us when a scream tears through plane, from somewhere outside the safe haven of my suite.
Every instinct flares to life. I sit back, heart pounding, eyes flying to my daughter, who is now awake and startled, clutching her blanket. Aleksander straightens beside me, his face shifting from desire to alertness in an instant.
The private little bubble we built bursts. Around us, other passengers are stirring, murmuring anxiously, craning their necks to see what happened. Somewhere up front, a flight attendant’s voice tries to calm the chaos, but the unease rolls through first class like a chill.
I pull my daughter close, stroking her hair, my own pulse racing with leftover adrenaline and something colder. Aleksander’s hand is steady on my knee, grounding me, but his attention is fixed on the commotion outside our cabin. Something is horribly wrong.