Chapter 3 Sister?! #2
“I work at Mr. Graves’s company now. I’m also on lunch break.”
Alexander’s head tilted slightly toward her—barely a movement, but sharp—his eyes narrowing with something that clearly meant: ‘That’s all you’re going to say?’
Mia averted her gaze quickly, avoiding Alexander.
“You know him?” Mia asked Harold, surprised flashing in her eyes.
Harold stiffened. “Ah… just from business dealings, you know? Work connections?” he said, voice cracking slightly as he tried to sound casual.
Inside, he was screaming. ‘Why did Alexander pop up now? I finally get a few hours with my crush and this man appears like a ghost to ruin everything. Great. Perfect.’
Harold kept a polite smile while panicking internally. ‘And obviously I can’t tell her he’s my brother. What if she gets scared? What if she refuses to date her boss’s brother? No—absolutely not. She cannot know.’
Meanwhile, Alexander had already straightened, withdrawing just enough to appear professional, though his presence still loomed right behind her. When he spoke, his tone turned cold, controlled, authoritative.
“If you’re done, then return to work, Miss Bennett,” he said, tone clipped. “I need my secretary twenty-four seven with me.”
Mia shot up from the chair instantly.
Alexander didn’t wait—he turned and walked out first, not even glancing back.
Hazel’s eyes were huge. “That’s your boss?”
Mia gave a tiny, helpless smile. “Mhm… that’s Alexander.” She whispered the last part to Hazel, trying to warn her with her eyes.
Hazel blinked, confused—then realization slammed into her. Her mouth dropped open. “Alexander? That Alexander?!”
Mia nodded quickly and hurried after him, heart racing.
Harold lifted a hand in a small, sad wave. Hazel remained staring, stunned.
When Alexander and Mia stepped out of the restaurant an hour later, Alexander opened the car door for her. After she sat, he closed the door, walked around, and slipped into the seat beside her.
The car doors shut.
Sound dropped.
He turned his head toward her, his expression serious.
“You know Harold?”
Mia swallowed. “Yeah… we met last time at the club. Hazel introduced us. He’s her friend.”
Alexander didn’t react right away. His profile stayed locked, jaw tight, eyes staring ahead. But something restless flickered beneath his calm.
Then he said, too casually,
“Harold is about the same age as you.”
Mia nodded. “Yeah, I know. He told me the last time we met.”
Alexander’s hand tightened around the steering wheel, leather groaning under the pressure. His face was calm—too calm, like still water hiding a storm underneath.
“Do you like men older than you, Mia?”
A pause.
“Or men your age?”
Mia blinked, her brows pulling together. “Does… it matter?”
His answer was immediate. “Yes.”
He turned his head, eyes locking onto hers with a quiet intensity. “It matters to me.”
Mia’s breath stilled. There was no teasing in his voice, no softness. Just a raw need he wasn’t even trying to hide anymore.
His grip remained locked around the steering wheel, veins standing out along the back of his hand. For a moment, the air in the car felt too intimate.
Before either could speak again, his phone rang, breaking the moment.
His jaw twitched in irritation before he answered the call.
A short, clipped conversation. A curt, “Right.”
Then he hung up and looked at her again.
“I’ll take you somewhere,” he said softly. “You’ll see something worth seeing.”
He turned back to the road, one hand on the wheel. The engine roared to life and shot forward.
They drove for a while. Then, the car slowed to a stop near a construction site. A commotion surged outside—voices raised, dust in the air, the sound of metal against metal.
Mia looked out the window and froze.
William was there—face red, hair disheveled, shouting at the top of his lungs. He was shaking with frustration, pointing wildly as the demolition crew continued working without acknowledging him.
“This building complies with every regulation!” he shouted hoarsely. “You can’t just tear it down without notice—do you hear me?!”
But no one was listening. The machinery kept moving, the building kept falling.
Mia’s chest tightened. The scene looked painfully familiar.
It was just like how James had destroyed her house and she hadn’t been able to do anything but watch.
Her helpless anger.
Her tears.
Her loss. The disbelief.
The silent collapse of her home.
Her throat went dry.
Alexander watched her quietly.
“Sinclairs Corporation’s new project?” Mia murmured.
“Yes.” His voice was low. “Are you upset?”
Her fingers curled slowly.
Then she moved closer to him, leaning in, about to speak.
But before the sound could leave her throat, his fingers caught her chin. Her lips parted in surprise as he tilted her face up, forcing her eyes to meet his. His voice dropped, low and dark, the kind of tone that slid down her spine and made her shudder.
“I can give you anything, Mia,” he said, his gaze locked onto hers. “But I will never forgive anyone who hurts you. So don’t plead for him.”
She blinked—taken aback.
“You misunderstand, Mr. Graves,” she said quickly, not looking away. “I’m not going to beg for him. If it weren’t for you, he wouldn’t have faced any repercussions for hurting me at all. He deserves it. Every bit of it.”
Hearing her, a slow smile touched Alexander’s lips—relief and satisfaction mixed with something warmer.
He pulled her straight into him.
His mouth brushed hers once, then he deepened the kiss so quickly her gasp disappeared right against his lips.
His hand slid up her waist, fingers splaying possessively as he tilted her closer. His thumb stroked the line of her jaw, coaxing her to open for him. She didn’t even realize she’d done it until his tongue swept slowly along her lower lip—one teasing stroke that made her knees weaken.
His tongue traced the corner of her mouth, then dragged upward in a slow glide, tasting her. The faint, breathy sound she made against him pushed him over the edge.
Alexander angled her head in his hand and kissed her deeper, his tongue slipping against hers—slow at first, then bolder when she clutched his shoulders. He followed the shiver that ran down her spine, kissing her harder, his mouth moving over hers in hungry, claiming strokes.
She felt every change in him. The way his breathing roughened, the way his hand slid from her waist to her back, pressing her chest to his. Her fingers tightened in his shirt, pulling him closer without thinking.
When he finally lifted his head—not even an inch—his lips were still brushing hers as he murmured, voice rough with restraint:
“I will always do anything for you.”
She was breathing fast, lips swollen, fingers still gripping his shoulders. He leaned in again, intending to kiss her deeper but she flushed and glanced around.
“There are too many people, Mr. Graves,” she whispered, barely managing the sentence.
He didn’t release her.
Instead, his hands slipped back to her waist and pulled her into his chest, forehead resting on hers, his breath warm on her lips as he whispered:
“I want to kiss you more,” he murmured. “Will you not let me?”
Her fingers tightened on his shoulders, her lips pressed together as if holding back the tremble.
Alexander leaned in and kissed her again, deep enough to steal her breath but soft enough to feel unbearably intimate. His lips dragged over hers, a warm, sensual glide that made her toes curl.
Then his tongue traced a teasing sweep over her bottom lip, just a whisper, slow and sinful taste that made her tremble.
He felt it.
He pulled back only an inch, his eyes warm, full, heavy with something that wrapped around her like heat.
“Wait for me,” he murmured—soft, but strained, like the words scraped out of him.
He dragged himself away from her like it physically hurt to let go. His breath faltered, chest rising in one hard, uneven pull. For a moment, he just sat there, jaw clenched, eyes closed as if fighting the instinct to reach for her again.
Then he forced himself back into his seat, shoulders stiff, expression carved with restraint that looked seconds from breaking. His hand shot to the ignition, movements quick, impatient. The key scraped once before he jammed it in, and the engine roared awake like it felt his urgency.
He slammed the gear into drive and the car shot forward.
The city dimmed behind rows of trees. Shadows slipped across the windshield. The world outside grew quiet, muted.
But the air inside the car stayed hot, charged, thick with desire.
Every few seconds, she felt his gaze dart toward her—quick, hungry, tortured.
When he finally slowed the car on an empty, silent stretch of road, it felt like the world had disappeared. No headlights. No voices. Just two people and the thrum of the engine.
Then, the car stopped.
He didn’t even breathe—he moved.
Her seatbelt snapped open with one smooth, decisive pull. His hands slid to her waist and before she inhaled, he lifted her off the seat.
A soft gasp escaped her lips as he pulled her over the console and onto his lap with one urgent, unbroken motion. Her knees slid around him; her palms gripped his shoulders; her breath caught hard.
She felt his warmth, his breath, the wild thud of his heartbeat against her chest.
His arm locked around her waist instantly, holding her tight against him.
“Mia…” Her name scraped out of him, low, unsteady.
Then he buried his face in her neck.
“Mmmhh…” Heat rushed straight through her.
His mouth opened against her skin. Warm, hungry, desperate. He licked along the base of her throat, tasting her like he’d been starving for it.
“Ah…” Her breath left her in a shaky exhale.
He dragged his mouth up the curve of her neck, tracing with the edge of his tongue, following the line with an intoxicating mix of softness and need that made her head fall back without meaning to.
“Oh God…”
He caught the movement. His hand slid up her spine, pressing her closer, anchoring her as he kissed deeper.