Chapter 6 Fears
Mia’s eyes widened. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. “It—it was a mistake…” she stammered.
Alexander’s thumb brushed her lower lip again, tracing the shape of it with unhurried focus. “Say it again,” he murmured, voice husky, his breath ghosting over her skin.
Mia froze, caught in his stare. Her lips parted, but before she could speak—
A sharp knock at the door cut through the air.
Startled, she jumped out of his lap, shoving him back and stumbling to her feet, cheeks flaming. “Who is it?” she called, already halfway to the door.
Before she could reach it, Alexander’s hand shot out, gripping her wrist and yanking her back against him. His other hand pressed against her lower back, holding her close.
He leaned down, lips brushing the sensitive skin of her neck. His teeth sank in, a sharp, possessive bite, leaving heat and pressure that made her gasp. Then his tongue followed, dragging over the spot he’d marked, licking the tender skin in a slow, almost claiming motion.
His lips moved with precision, a hot suction that left her breath catching in her throat, her knees trembling. She tilted her head instinctively, giving him more access as her pulse spiked.
Then, with the same controlled precision, he pulled back just enough to murmur against her skin, low and intimate, “I’ll open it.”
His hand lingered on her wrist for a heartbeat longer, thumb brushing lightly over her pulse before he finally released her. He strode to the door with effortless, commanding confidence.
Mia exhaled shakily, her legs weak as if she’d just run a sprint. Her fingers rose on their own, brushing over the warm, tingling mark on her neck, tracing the imprint of his lips. Her chest heaved, hair falling in loose strands across her flushed cheeks, slightly tousled from the sudden closeness.
Alexander swung the door open, his movements sharp and edged with annoyance.
Harold stood outside, his brows immediately drawing together. Seeing Alexander at the door, his expression instantly hardened. “Why are you in Mia’s room?”
Alexander’s lips curved, but it wasn’t a smile. His eyes were cold. Without hesitation, he slipped an arm around Mia’s waist and drew her flush against him, his palm firm on her hip as though staking a claim. “I’m her husband. Where else should I be?”
Mia stiffened, feeling the heat of his touch sear through her thin dress. Her pulse hammered in her chest.
Harold’s gaze flicked from Alexander to her, then landed on the redness and hickey blooming along her neck. His expression darkened, displeasure and disbelief twisting his features.
Alexander didn’t miss it. His head tilted slightly, a dangerous calm settling over him as he drawled, “If you don’t have anything important to say, you should leave. Your sister-in-law and I are busy.”
He began to close the door.
But Harold caught the door, the impact sharp. “Don’t you have work to do?” he snapped, his voice laced with irritation. “Why are you still here?”
Alexander’s jaw flexed. His eyes narrowed to slits, their calmness now laced with threat. “It’s none of your business,” he said icily. “Leave.”
The next second, the door slammed shut with a hard thud, the sound echoing through the hallway.
Mia jumped, heart racing, her hands curling into her dress. “Mr. Graves!” she burst out, turning toward him in panic. “Why would you say that to him? What if he tells your mother you haven’t gone to work yet? What if she thinks I’m the reason you’re slacking off?!”
Alexander only looked at her with that infuriating, composed calm. The faintest smile touched his lips. His hand came up to her shoulder, his fingers pressing lightly as he caressed her skin with a heated gaze.
“Let him say what he wants,” he murmured, his voice smooth but heavy with something dangerous.
His gaze drifted downward until it stopped on her neck.
His thumb brushed across her collarbone, grazing the fresh marks he’d left moments ago.
His eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “Don’t worry about Harold,” he said softly. “Focus on me.”
Mia frowned, heat rising to her cheeks. “Mr. Graves,” she said, trying to sound stern, “if you don’t go to work, we’ll lose business! I’m already poor—if you go bankrupt too, we’ll end up living on the street!”
Her words spilled out in a rush, anxious and unguarded.
But Alexander didn’t seem to hear a single one. His gaze remained fixed on her throat—on the crimson imprints his lips had carved into her skin. His fingers hovered there again, as though admiring his own work.
Unfocused and tense, Mia fumbled for her phone as she lifted it close to her mouth. “Hey Siri,” she muttered shakily, “how to commit money fraud?”
Alexander ignored her completely, unzipping her dress, lost in his hunger.
Mia’s eyes widened. She turned her head sharply, her pulse thundering as she saw his fingers at her back. “Mr. Graves!” she gasped, breath catching. “You’re not listening to me!”
Her panic spiked, and before she even realized it, her hands flew up, grabbing his face firmly between them. She forced his head down until his eyes met hers. “Look at me!”
Alexander froze. For the first time, his body stilled completely.
Her palms were warm against his cold skin, her breath brushing over his lips.
For a brief, fragile moment, all the tension between them dissolved into silence—just his heartbeat, her trembling hands, and the faint scent of her perfume lingering in the air.
Realizing what she’d done, Mia’s eyes widened even more. She tried to pull her hands away, but Alexander caught them. His gaze softened, the harsh lines of his face easing.
“I want to keep them here,” he murmured, voice low, rough, and strangely tender.
Mia’s heart fluttered. A small, helpless smile touched her lips as her hand brushed over his face. Her thumb brushed over his cheekbone, feeling the faint stubble beneath her skin.
An hour later, Alexander finally stepped out of the house. The sharp afternoon light hit his face, glinting against the faint pink mark on his cheek. His tie hung loosely around his neck, and his shirt collar was slightly undone.
Allen was already waiting by the car. Straightening instantly, he hurried forward and opened the door. “Good afternoon, sir,” he greeted, but his eyes flicked to the side of Alexander’s cheek, brows knitting slightly.
Alexander slipped into the backseat, resting an arm on the door. Allen started the car, but after a moment, curiosity got the better of him. He glanced at the rearview mirror, his voice awkward and hesitant. “Mr. Graves… are you all right? Your cheek is a bit red.”
Alexander didn’t answer immediately. His gaze shifted, and for a second, the memory pulled him away—the way Mia had grabbed his face with both hands, kissing his cheek again and again, her palms pressing into his skin as she held him close.
The warmth of her lips. The soft, repeated kisses that had left that lingering heat on him.
His cheek still tingled faintly.
Finally, a faint smirk tugged at his lips. His voice was calm, almost lazy.
“Allen,” he drawled, “have you ever had a girlfriend?”
Allen’s grip on the steering wheel tightened instantly. “No, sir,” he replied stiffly, though his jaw flexed in silent frustration. ‘As if you ever let me have enough time in the day to get a girlfriend,’ he thought bitterly, keeping his eyes fixed on the road.
Alexander tilted his head, a spark of amusement in his eyes. “Figures,” he said dryly. “You’re such a loser. You wouldn’t understand what goes on between married couples.”
Allen’s mouth opened slightly, then closed again. He muttered under his breath, angry beyond words, “That’s it. I’m never worrying about you again, Mr. Graves. You didn’t have to crush my poor heart that hard.”
***
At the Graves Corporation headquarters, chaos ruled the morning. Phones rang, printers whirred, and heels clicked sharply against the marble floors as employees hurried between meetings.
Janet stepped out of the cafeteria, coffee in hand, her phone pressed against her ear. “Yes, I already sent the files to legal—wait—” She stopped short as her shoulder slammed into someone solid.
The cup tipped. Hot coffee splashed across the man’s chest and sleeve.
“Oh my God!” Janet gasped, eyes wide. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where—” Her words died in her throat when she looked up and saw who it was. “Allen?”
Her face tensed immediately.
Allen stared down at his now coffee-stained suit, his jaw ticking once.
Janet, flustered, quickly stepped aside, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “I wasn’t looking where I was going,” she said quickly.
She instinctively started to step aside, expecting him to wave it off like always. Over the years, Allen had always been unusually polite to her—carrying out all her requests, dropping her places, even arranging things on her behalf.
Everyone in the office had noticed how Allen, who barely acknowledged anyone, would go out of his way for her. He was strangely accommodating toward her.
People in the company often whispered about it, surprised that Alexander’s stoic assistant treated no one else with such patience.
So, she assumed this would be like every other time. She set her empty cup on a nearby table and turned to leave.
But Allen moved.
He stepped in front of her, blocking her path. Pulling out his phone, he spoke flatly. “Miss Goodwin, you ruined my suit. I’ll need a new one.”
Janet blinked, taken aback. “What?”
“I’ll send you the link.” He turned the screen toward her—his banking app open, a blank transfer page waiting. “Transfer the amount once you see the price.”
Janet stared at him, her lips parting in disbelief. For the first time, Allen wasn’t being polite—he was being cold.
Her throat went dry as her heart began to pound violently, a sharp panic spreading through her chest.
Why was Allen suddenly acting like this? He’d never spoken to her that way before.