25. Magnolia Steel
Chapter 25
Magnolia Steel
The emerald-green gown hugs my body perfectly, its bold elegance a stunning mix of refinement and allure. Alex chose it himself, insisting it was the one, and now I see why. The mirror reflects more than the dress—it shows a woman ready to step into a new chapter, into Alex’s world, even if it feels a little daunting.
In the living room, he stands by the window, adjusting his cuff links with practiced ease. The tux fits him flawlessly, accentuating his broad shoulders and exuding a quiet confidence. For a moment, I pause in the doorway, taking him in. This is Alex Sebring—poised, polished, completely at home in a world of elegance and refinement.
For him, this is normal. It’s second nature.
For me, this is intimidating.
He turns as I step forward, his gaze sweeping over me before locking on to mine. His smile is subtle but loaded with meaning. “You’re breathtaking.”
“Thank you.” I smile back, a mix of nerves and anticipation fluttering in my chest. “You don’t look so bad yourself. You clean up pretty well, big guy.”
His grin widens as he closes the space between us. “Only pretty well , huh? I was hoping for something more like devastatingly handsome or maybe dangerously debonair.”
“Fine, Mr. Dangerously Debonair.” I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re a solid ten, tux or not.”
“Much better,” he says, pulling me closer.
His hand settles at the small of my back, his thumb grazing the satin fabric with a touch that sends a ripple of warmth through me. “I know tonight might feel overwhelming, but I want you to know something. No matter what anyone thinks or says, you’re the only one I care about. You’re the only one I see.”
A lump rises in my throat. “You realize this is it, don’t you? No aliases, no hiding. It’s you and me, out in the open for everyone to judge.”
“I know.” He nods, his gaze unwavering. “You should also know we’re going to steal the spotlight from the bride and groom tonight.” His lips curve into a proud, playful smile. “But I don’t care. Walking in with you—showing the world how incredible you are—feels right. Nothing else matters.”
The mix of nerves and excitement churning inside me finds a new edge. “I want to make you proud.” I feel my vulnerability breaking through. “This is your world, not mine. I don’t want to misstep.”
Unrelenting doubt takes root. His high-profile life, his polished friends, and the elegant world he moves through so easily—it feels like a galaxy away from mine. What if I say the wrong thing? What if I embarrass him?
His hand shifts, cupping my cheek. “Magnolia, you’re perfect as you are. There’s nothing you could do that wouldn’t make me proud.”
His words settle over me like a promise, pulling me from the edge of uncertainty. Tonight might be daunting, but with Alex at my side, it feels like the start of something bigger. Something real. Something worth every risk.
The low hum of the limo pulling up outside interrupts the moment. Alex glances toward the window, then back at me, his hand finding mine. His grip is firm and steady, his thumb brushing lightly against my skin. “Are you ready for this?”
I meet his gaze, letting the warmth of his confidence seep into me. A small smile tugs at my lips as I squeeze his hand. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
The city lights blur by outside, casting fleeting patterns of gold and white across the interior as the limo glides through the streets. “By the way, that green dress? Perfect. It was made for you.”
“Thank you.” His compliment soothes some of the butterflies in my stomach. He picked this dress for me, and knowing he loves it makes all the difference.
Still, a thread of unease winds through me.
Earlier, he felt it necessary to warn me about the likelihood of both Celeste and Tyson being at the wedding. The thought is an unwelcome shadow in the back of my mind. What if they find a way to disrupt the night? What if old tensions rise to the surface?
But even as those doubts creep in, I remind myself why I’m here. I’m not doing this for Celeste or Tyson, or for anyone else. I’m here for Alex. No matter what happens tonight, I’ll stand by his side.
He’s been honest with me—raw and vulnerable in ways that have left me in awe of his strength. Tonight, I want to be that same source of strength for him. If the ghosts of his past rear their heads, I’ll be here. Steady. Unwavering. His lighthouse in the storm.
The wedding venue is straight-out-of-Pinterest breathtaking—towering marble columns, glistening chandeliers, and intricately arranged floral displays that look like they belong on a top-tier bridal blog. As we step inside, my hand slips into Alex’s, the touch a quiet reassurance that steadies me.
The moment we cross the threshold, heads turn and whispers ripple through the crowd. Their gazes settle on us, heavy with curiosity, as though we’re a mystery waiting to be unraveled.
Alex leans in, his breath a warm whisper against my ear. “This is only the beginning, Magnolia. A few glances here are nothing compared to what lies ahead.”
I glance up at him, finding comfort in his calm, unwavering presence. “Just promise me you won’t leave my side.”
His grip tightens slightly, his expression softening with resolve. “Never.”
As we take our seats, Alex’s hand moves to the small of my back, a touch that feels both protective and intentional, as though he’s subtly declaring to anyone watching that I’m more than his plus-one. Once seated, his hand finds my leg, resting there with a quiet confidence that steadies the swell of unease in my chest.
The gesture sends a message—to everyone here and to me—that I’m not just accompanying him tonight; I’m with him. It’s an act that holds meaning, not ostentatious but quiet and powerful, reminding me of his unwavering presence and the statement he’s making simply by having me at his side.
The ceremony begins, and as the bride and groom exchange vows, my thoughts drift into uncharted territory. This is what Alex wants—a future built together, a life shared in its entirety. The thought stirs something deep, equal parts longing and fear.
Marriage isn’t just a partnership; it’s the complete surrender of your heart, the willingness to let someone see every hidden corner of your soul. The vulnerability it demands feels like walking a tightrope with no safety net.
My gaze shifts to the couple before us, their faces glowing with a love so sure it feels unshakable. The thought of standing in their place sends a ripple of unease through me. The towering marble columns, glittering chandeliers, and sea of poised guests make my chest tighten.
This isn’t just a wedding; it’s a glimpse into a world I’m not sure I belong in—a world Alex navigates with ease, but one that leaves me feeling exposed and uncertain. I close my eyes for a moment, drawing a deep breath. The truth is, the life Alex wants––the life he deserves—terrifies me.
When the ceremony ends, we move to the reception, which is every bit as breathtaking. Tables draped in crisp white linens sparkle with glimmering candles and intricate floral arrangements. We’re led to a table near the front, where two couples are already seated, their laughter filling the air with a lively warmth. Alex squeezes my hand, his touch steady, as if offering silent reassurance.
“Magnolia, I want you to meet a few people. These are my teammates, Bradley and Jonathan. And their better halves, Megan and Callie. Everyone, this is Magnolia.”
I smile warmly, offering a nod as Alex makes the introductions. “Hi there. It’s nice to meet y’all.”
Megan’s face lights up, her grin growing wide and genuine. “Magnolia… I’ve never known anyone with that name. I love it. And your accent! I could listen to you talk all night.”
Callie’s brow lifts with interest, her eyes sparkling. “You’ve got a drawl that could charm a crocodile—whereabouts are you from?”
I relax into their easy warmth, the tension I had been carrying starting to ease. “I live in Charleston, South Carolina, now, but the accent? That’s all Mississippi.”
Megan and Callie seem genuinely kind. They’re nothing like the image I had in my head of professional athletes’ wives—no air of superiority, no distant politeness.
“Ah, Mississippi—that explains it,” Callie says, snapping her fingers like she’s solved a mystery. “That’s why it has that sweet cadence to it.”
When people find out I’m from Mississippi, their reactions usually fall into one of two extremes. Some get stars in their eyes, conjuring images of magnolia trees, sweet tea, and front porch swings creaking in the humid breeze. Others arch an eyebrow, as if picturing me strolling out of a trailer park barefoot in dirty overalls, a six-pack tucked under one arm and a possum on a leash. And to be fair, they’re not entirely wrong about the trailer park part. Middle ground doesn’t seem to exist, but I’ve learned to lean into it with a little charm—it keeps things easier for everyone.
“You all have such lovely accents. And the slang? Don’t even get me started. Half the time, I’m convinced y’all are making up words to see if the American will nod along.”
Megan laughs, nodding in agreement. “Fair, but yours takes the cake, Magnolia. You could read the ingredients on a box of cereal, and we’d all be charmed.”
Callie’s eyes sparkle with curiosity. “So, what brings you all the way from Charleston to Sydney?”
“Work. I couldn’t resist when the chance for a short-term assignment in Australia came up. It felt like the perfect excuse for an adventure.”
Megan’s grin spreads wide as she shoots Alex a teasing look. “Adventurous and gorgeous. Alex, you’ve hit the jackpot.”
Alex rests his hand lightly on the back of my chair, looking at me with adoring eyes. “Trust me, you have no idea.”
Callie winks at me. “I think you’ve got The Iron Wall wrapped around your finger, Magnolia. It’s written all over his face.”
Megan nods in agreement. “She’s right. I’ve never seen him like this.”
Bradley shakes his head with a good-natured groan. “All right, ladies, cut the man some slack.”
Their laughter surrounds me, warm and genuine, melting my nerves with ease. The teasing feels like a welcome embrace, drawing me into their circle.
I share bits of myself, answering their questions, while Alex’s steady gaze reminds me I belong here. I’d worried about fitting into his world, but their kindness puts me at ease. By the time cake is served, I’m smiling at how unnecessary my nerves were. Tonight feels unexpectedly right.
The band begins playing Etta James’s “At Last,” the smooth, soulful melody spilling into the room and drawing couples to the dance floor. The familiar tune catches my ear, and a smile tugs at my lips. “I love this song.”
Alex’s gaze meets mine, a teasing smile curving his lips. Rising to his feet, he extends a hand toward me with a slight, playful bow.
“May I have the honor of this dance, Miss Steel?”
My smile widens as I slip my hand into his. “Yes, you may, Mr. Sebring.”
Alex leads me to the center of the floor, the golden lights casting a soft glow that feels warm and intimate. His hand settles at the small of my back, his other holding mine firmly as he pulls me close. The rest of the room fades into a blur, leaving the two of us in a world of our own.
The music is gentle and steady, and for a moment, it feels like time has paused. My heart skips as I glance up at him, captivated by the way he looks at me—like I’m the only thing that matters.
“You’ve been incredible tonight.” The admiration in his eyes matches the warmth in his words.
I blink, surprised by his appraisal. “Incredible? Nah, I was just trying not to trip over my own feet.”
He spins me with an effortless grace that makes my pulse race. “It’s so much more than that. You carry yourself like you’ve done this a hundred times. Like you belong here.”
His words settle deep within me, warm and unexpected. I search his face for any hint of teasing, but there’s none—just pure sincerity. “I only followed your lead.”
“You didn’t follow anyone’s lead,” he says, pulling me close once more. “You made it look easy. Like this world—this life—is meant for you.”
The thought sinks deeper, clawing at me. Maybe I didn’t realize it before, but what if I’m just like Robin and Charlene? What if I’m a chameleon too, slipping into this role, pretending to fit? Able to play the part, smile in all the right places, but it’s not real.
I swallow hard, my breath hitching as I meet his gaze. There’s something in his eyes—unspoken, powerful, and far too tender. It wraps around me, slipping past every wall I’ve built, and I don’t know how to handle it. Warmth spreads in my chest, but it doesn’t last. Unease follows, twisting it into something heavier, something I can’t quite name.
And it terrifies me.
Because in moments like this, the reality of who I am feels unbearable. I’m just a girl born into chaos, and not the beautiful kind––but the kind that sticks to you, leaving jagged scars you can’t hide.
I wasn’t born for a life of chandeliers and sprawling estates, of private jets and penthouses perched above glittering cityscapes. Eight- or nine-figure bank accounts—hell, maybe even ten—are as far from my reality as the moon.
This isn’t my world, and it never will be.
It’s temporary. Three months to be exact.
His gaze holds mine, steady and unrelenting. It’s too much. The intensity, the rawness, the possibility of being truly seen.
And as “At Last” swells into its final notes, the lyrics feel like they’re taunting me.
“I need to visit the ladies’ room,” I say, slipping free of his grasp. My smile feels brittle, barely held together.
His brow furrows, confusion flashing across his face, but he doesn’t press. “Of course.”
As I turn away, the last notes of the song fade into the background, and with every step, the ache inside me grows heavier, threatening to consume me whole.
I slip away from the dance floor, his words echoing in my mind, heavy and unsettling.
Like this world—this life—is meant for you.
My pulse races as I grab my bag from the table, clutching it tightly as I make my way to the bathroom.
The romantic haze of the evening clings to me, but as I push open the bathroom door, I’m flooded with relief at the solitude waiting inside. Within the stall, I pause, standing still as the quiet wraps around me. I close my eyes, my heart pounding against my ribs. His words settle over me with a heaviness I hadn’t anticipated, far more than what tonight was supposed to hold. This was meant to be light—fun. So why does it feel like the ground beneath me has shifted? Why does it feel like he’s offering me something I’m not sure I know how to hold?
I exhale shakily, stepping out and making my way to the sink. The cool counter beneath my fingertips steadies me as I glance at my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks are flushed, my breathing uneven. I take a slow, deliberate breath, trying to steady myself. Pulling a lipstick from my bag, I touch up my makeup, focusing on the familiar routine—a small attempt to regain control over the moment.
As I finish touching up my lipstick, the bathroom door swings open. A striking tall blonde strides inside, her presence demanding attention. She pauses, folding her arms with casual arrogance as her sharp gaze zeroes in on me.
Unsure of what else to say, I offer a polite but wary, “Hello.”
Her smirk curls into something sharp, cutting. “Ah, the Southern belle,” she drawls, her tone thick with mockery. “I see Alex has gone international. Guess no woman in Australia wants him after they got a glimpse of the real Alex Sebring.”
It doesn’t take much to piece together who she is. “Celeste.”
Her smirk deepens, her satisfaction practically radiating. “Oh, he’s mentioned me? I hope he gave me a glowing review.”
I cross my arms, my stance firm. “Only as someone desperate for likes and views. Pathetic really.”
Her smirk falters for a split second before it sharpens again. “You should do a search on him, read the stories, watch the video. Then you’ll see for yourself what kind of man you’re really with.”
I shake my head. “I haven’t seen the video, and I don’t care to. You know why? Because it reveals more about you than it ever could about him.”
Her eyes narrow. “You think you know him? Trust me, sweetheart, you’ve barely scratched the surface.”
I meet her gaze head-on, my voice unwavering. “You’re right—I don’t know the Alex you once knew. But I know the man he is now, and that’s all I care about.”
Her smirk falters for a heartbeat before she recovers. “You’re making a mistake,” she hisses, each word laced with venom.
I tilt my head, a slow, confident smile curving my lips. “If it is, it’s my mistake to make—not yours. So don’t lose any sleep over it.”
I turn toward the door but pause, glancing back over my shoulder with a slow, deliberate smile. “Oh, and Celeste? It’s clear you haven’t forgotten how good Alex is in bed. He told me all about your little attempt after the game. ‘ Maybe we should slip away for a bit. I could remind you of what you’ve been missing.’ Pathetic doesn’t even begin to cover it. That’s embarrassing—for you.”
With that, I stride out, my heels clicking purposefully against the marble floor, leaving her bitterness—and her desperate attempts to rattle me—far behind.
My stomach twists as I step back into the reception and spot Alex across the room, locked in a tense exchange with a man I’ve never seen before—but I know exactly who he is. The energy between them is charged, sharp enough to cut through the air, drawing a small crowd of curious onlookers. Alex’s jaw is set, his fists clenching at his sides, the calm control I’ve come to rely on unraveling right in front of me.
This is bad. Really bad. The storm inside him is visible in every taut muscle, every shift of his eyes, and I can tell he’s moments away from losing the grip he’s barely holding on to.
I weave through the onlookers until I’m right in front of Alex. Without hesitation, I step between him and the man, a barrier against the tension that feels ready to explode. Placing my hand gently on his chest, I can feel the thunderous booming of his heart beneath my palm—wild, unsteady, and barely contained.
“Hey, babe.”
His eyes snap to mine, recognition cutting through the storm brewing inside him.
“You know how much I love the song ‘Endless Love.’” I offer a small smile, tilting my head as if nothing is wrong. “Come dance with me?”
Behind me, Sir-Picks-a-Fight scoffs, his smug laughter slicing through the thick air. “That’s right, Sebring.” His words drip with venom. “Stick to dancing. Leave the real game to those who can actually handle it.”
I don’t flinch, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. My gaze stays locked on Alex’s, unwavering. “I’ll be so sad if we don’t dance to our song.”
I slide my hand into his and give it a gentle squeeze.
Leaning in closer, I whisper, my words meant only for him. “Remember what we talked about? He’s baiting you, trying to make you snap in front of everyone so he can paint you as the villain. Don’t give him that satisfaction, Alex. Come with me.”
His jaw tightens, tension radiating off him like a physical force. But slowly, I feel the fight drain from his body. His shoulders ease, and his grip on my hand shifts—not in anger, but in quiet surrender.
I lead him away from the crowd, his steps heavy, reluctant, but following. The strain of everything he’s holding inside clings to him, his silence louder than any outburst.
When we reach the center of the dance floor, surrounded by a sea of swaying couples and safely out of sight of his nemesis, I stop and turn to him. My hands find his face, gently cradling it, his jaw tight beneath my touch, his breaths coming in shallow, uneven pulls.
“Alex,” I whisper, brushing my thumbs along his jawline in reassuring strokes. “It’s over. Look at me. Just me. You’re in control.”
His gaze locks on mine, the turmoil in his eyes fading as he steadies himself. His breathing slows as his tension unravels. I rise onto my toes, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He hesitates for a moment, then exhales deeply, his body softening as he lets go of the storm brewing within him.
When I pull back, his words come out rough, barely controlled. “You’re my peace in the madness. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
The music surrounds us, soft and steady, as we move together in a slow rhythm. His grip on me is firm yet somehow tender, as though letting go would shatter something fragile between us. The room, the crowd, the tension—all of it fades away until it’s only the two of us, steady and inseparable in a world of our own making.
Alex presses his lips to my ear. “Do you want to get out of here?”
I tilt my head up to meet his gaze, offering a gentle smile. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
His brow arches slightly, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “ Whatever I want?”
“Anything. Just say the word.”
His eyes dart over his shoulder toward Tyson, his jaw tightening as his expression hardens. “What I want is to leave before he pushes me to a place I can’t come back from.”
“Then let’s go,” I say without hesitation, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.
As we weave through the crowd and step outside to the waiting car, I steal a glance at Alex. His profile is taut, his thoughts clearly heavy, the pull of unspoken emotions dragging him into silence. He doesn’t deserve this—not tonight, not ever. Whatever darkness Tyson stirred, whatever storm is brewing inside him, I’ll make sure it stops here. By the time this night is over, the chaos will be a distant memory. I’ll make sure he remembers only the calm I gave him.