Chapter 33
EVANGELINE
Warm, golden sunlight streams between the blackout curtains, illuminating a narrow channel across the hotel room. It’s just bright enough to allow me to really take Alaric in.
As promised, he held me all night long. And just like the night before, I felt safe and wanted and utterly cared for as I slept in his arms.
Sleeping soundly, he looks so unguarded and relaxed. He’s so serious when he’s working or talking to the media. Right now, lying here in the light of a new day, he looks softer. The peacefulness of his expression is only accentuated by the deep, even breathing and steady rise and fall of his chest.
The stubble on his face is thicker than I’ve ever seen. He must shave every morning if this is what it looks like after one night’s growth.
His sharp cheekbones and the angles of his jaw are so classically handsome.
His gray is barely noticeable from far away, and although most of it is restricted to his temples, the dark strands on the top are threaded with hints of silver as well.
This time I’ve been given to study all the subtle details that make this man who he is up close is a privilege. I love that I get to see him like this.
“You’ve been watching me sleep for several minutes and now you’re smiling maniacally. Should I be concerned?”
Giggling, I bury my head in his shoulder, only slightly embarrassed to be caught ogling him. “Good morning,” I murmur, taking a whiff of the spicy, masculine scent of his body wash on his skin.
“Good morning to you.” He brushes my hair back and kisses my forehead. “How did you sleep?”
“Really good,” I confess. I leave at that rather than telling him that I seem to always sleep well when we’re together.
He smiles down at me, then places a trail of kisses along my shoulder.
The last few kisses linger, and suddenly I’m wide awake and ready to go. I’m beyond tempted to turn into him and chase the pleasure I’m all but guaranteed to find if things go farther. But my anxiety pumps the brakes and questions storm my mind, clouding my libido.
“Alaric?” I run my red-painted nails through the short hair at his nape.
He smooths his hand down the length of my spine and pulls me closer. “Yes, angel?”
I capture his hand and lift it to my chest, hoping like hell I’m not about to ruin this moment with my next words.
“What are we doing?”
With a hum, he examines my face. “We’re just waking up. And possibly gearing up to make each other feel good?” He traces two fingers along my sternum, marking a languid trail between my breasts.
Though I don’t think he’s being intentionally obtuse, now that I’ve started down this line of thinking, I can’t let it go.
Craning back to put a bit of space between us, I force myself to hold his gaze.
Despite the inkling of shame inside me threatening to swirl into a flurry of emotions, I hold my nerve.
I need him to spell this out for me. I have to be sure.
I’ve made too many assumptions and allowed myself to read too deeply into so many half-baked situationships in the past; I owe it to myself to get the clarity I need.
“I’m struggling right now. I need you to be direct with me,” I say. “I don’t want to misread this or assume I know what you want or what the last few days have meant. So I’m going to ask again… what are we doing?”
“I—I don’t know, exactly,” he confesses, holding my attention. “We can’t date. Not openly…”
“Okay.” Quickly, I compartmentalize my disappointment, pushing down the premature heartache that comes with this revelation. “So the other morning, and again last night, that was just—”
He silences me with a finger to my lips. “Don’t even think about finishing that sentence.”
I snap my mouth shut, hope floating through me once more.
“This isn’t just anything. This weekend wasn’t a one-time deal or a mistake. Banish any doubts along those lines from your mind. Expediently.”
“Expediently?” I tease, peeking up at him through my lashes.
“I’m serious,” he urges. “I’m also being honest. I don’t know how to label this. We can’t date in the traditional sense. I could never have a public relationship with a person who worked under me at Granata. But I want to be with you.”
“So this wasn’t just a one-time thing?” I confirm.
His scowl deepens, causing my confidence to soar.
“It most certainly was not. But it’s critical that this,” he looks between our naked bodies, “stays between us, which feels like a dreadful request and entirely unfair to you.”
I press my lips together, considering his words. “I’m okay with keeping things quiet,” I tell him. “Or silent, if necessary. I don’t need anyone to know about us, especially given my most recent relationship…”
“You shouldn’t be okay with being someone’s secret,” he grouses.
I lift one shoulder in a shrug. “But that’s what I am.”
And I really am used to it. I’m used to only getting scraps of time and attention from the people I date. I’m not the easiest person to deal with, so most usually prefer me in small doses.
While no one from the Even Better Eleven has ever made me feel like I have to shrink myself down or mask all the time to be accepted, romantic partners are a different story.
My poor perception of myself was reinforced every day Luca and I were together. The two years I wasted on him were a humiliating ritual, every day spent trying to be only the most palatable version of myself.
I used to take what I could get out of a relationship, not wanting to burden or inconvenience my partner with my quirks and idiosyncrasies. I didn’t even resent Luca for his attitude toward me. I tried to stay focused on the good and just accept that parts of me would always be unlovable.
But every encounter I’ve shared with Alaric is on another level.
He’s seen me at my worst—on more than one occasion. He’s gone to great lengths to care for and support me, regardless of whether it disrupts his day. He’s held me and praised me and just let me be. That alone is a gift that’s hard to fully accept.
Despite the demands of his job and his hectic schedule, he’s never once acted like spending time with me is a chore. Hell, he’s the one who keeps barging into my life, insisting on cooking for me and taking care of me.
I want to be with him. Keeping the details of our relationship to myself is a small price to pay for the level of care and consideration he provides.
He doesn’t respond, the silence making me uneasy. We’re just getting to know each other. I don’t have a good read on what it means when he goes quiet.
But I already trust Alaric enough to know he’ll be honest if I ask.
So I say, “What are you thinking?”
He shifts close, cradling my head. “I’m thinking that you deserve to be with someone who can actually show you off in public.”
I crane up and kiss the hollow of his throat. “Lucky for both of us I’ve never been big on PDA.”
Rather than relax like I hoped, he only looks more stern, his scowl deepening. If he wasn’t holding me so gently, I would worry I was misreading him entirely.
“It’s not fair to ask you to sneak around,” he grumbles.
I don’t want fair—I just want him. So, changing tack, I hitch one leg over his hip and cuddle closer. “Would you prefer we go back to the way things were before?”
His muscles tighten. “Absolutely not.”
The visceral reaction bolsters my confidence, so I brush a few stray hairs away from his forehead, then look him in the eye.
“Please trust that I know what I want, and I want to be with you. I accept what that entails, and I won’t harbor any resentment.”
His scowl finally softens.
With a heavy sigh, he closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I’m sorry. It’s not fair for me to question you and not take you at your word.”
My heart lifts in response to the genuine sentiment.
I’m not sure anyone has ever apologized to me for misconstruing my words or underestimating my autonomy.
“So we’re together?”
“Yes,” he replies with a certainty I feel in my bones.
Both elated and deeply content, I snuggle closer.
“I’d be remiss not to acknowledge that the weight of what I’m asking is heavy,” he says. “A relationship like this comes with a whole host of complications. We’ll only move forward if you’re sure—”
I cut him off with a kiss. “So sure.”
He smiles against my mouth, then pulls back, cupping my face. “If at any point you change your mind, or if this becomes too much—”
I turn my head and nip at his finger to silence him. “I said I’m sure.”
He smiles, though his brow quickly furrows in concern.
“Just so we’re clear, I want exclusivity. I am a patient, tolerant man, but I couldn’t stand the idea of you seeing other people while we’re together.”
Swoon.
“Same goes for you.” I work to keep my tone cool, hoping he can’t see how deeply his words affect me.
He doesn’t just want to be with me—he wants me exclusively. This is the antithesis of my last relationship, his insistence a baseline of assurance I didn’t even know I needed until now.
“Naturally.” He tugs me closer, placing a kiss on the top of my shoulder. With his lips still pressed into my skin, he murmurs, “I’m serious, angel. I don’t share. I crave control. I need to be the only man in your bed.”
With a nod of understanding, I cuddle deeper into the crevice of his shoulder. “That will never be an issue for us, I swear.”
We’re both quiet, reveling in the newness of what we’ve just committed to.
Fighting back a smile, I peek up at him again. “This is real,” I whisper.
“So real.” Lips tipping up, he shakes his head like he can’t believe his luck. “Come on, angel. I have nowhere to be this morning, and you need sustenance. Time for me to figure out what you like for breakfast.”
As it turns out, I like everything Alaric makes for breakfast. He prepares a small feast for us that includes scrambled eggs, buttered toast, fried potatoes, and fresh fruit.
I gorge myself, enjoying seconds of each dish, which brings him an obnoxious amount of satisfaction.
“It’s a little concerning how closely you watch me while I eat,” I tease, finally pushing my plate away.
He grins, leaning over the countertop, still shirtless. “You like breakfast foods.”
“I love breakfast foods,” I admit. “Especially anything I can smother in syrup, ketchup, or chocolate.”
“Noted.”
Elation blooms inside me. I can’t remember the last time a person noted my likes, dislikes, or preferences. It’s nice to be considered.
No, not just considered.
Revered.
“I have an idea I wanted to float past you,” he says, carrying my plate to the sink.
I track his movements, appreciating the way the muscles in his back tense and stretch as he rinses the dishes.
The urge to touch him is strong, so I slide off the barstool and pad over to join him.
Circling his torso, I attempt to hug him from behind, but he spins in my arms before I can get situated.
“What is it?” I ask, resting my chin in the center of his bare chest.
Today is my off day. I have a few ideas I could work on for A-Tizket A-Tasket, but I’m caught up on orders and don’t need to do much to prepare for my live stream this evening.
And I have a few ideas of my own I’d like to float past Alaric while we’re still enjoying the privacy of his hotel room.
He smooths one hand up my back but looks past me rather than focusing on my face.
Unease swirls in my belly. “Alaric?”
His chest expands under my chin as he sucks in a deep breath. “Come to Monaco with me. Early.”
I still, contemplating his words.
The Monaco Grand Prix is thirteen days away. I’m not scheduled to arrive in the principality for another week. While I have to check out of this hotel tomorrow, I planned to tag along with Mia and a few other friends and tour Spain.
I also planned to put in a lot of work for my business. Now that I understand the rhythm of my new job with Granata, I have some ideas about rescheduling my live streams and body-doubling sessions in a way that will make my life run a little more smoothly.
Alaric drags his fingers up my spine lightly, distracting me from my rumination.
“How early?” I ask.
He licks his lips, dark brown eyes smoldering. “Is tomorrow too soon?”
My breath catches. Tomorrow?
“I have a condo in Port Hercule with a view of the marina. I’ll be working lighter days this week. We’ll still need to be discreet, but if we go tomorrow, we can sightsee and get to know each other better. Before the rest of our team personnel arrive.”
He buries his face in my neck.
“Plus, I’d really like to spend more time with you.”
The unease morphs into anticipation. This is impulsive. Maybe even a little reckless. I’ll have to change my plans with Mia, and if my friends press me about it, I worry I’ll crumble. I’m a horrible liar.
But Alaric’s eagerness and detailed plan make me feel invincible. It’s on the tip of my tongue to agree, but apparently, he’s not done making his case.
“You can do your lives from my place. I can even set you up in your own room if you’d like, so—”
I playfully smack his chest. “No way.”
His face falls, optimism collapsing as he pushes out a defeated breath. “No?”
“No, I don’t want my own room. Yes, I’ll go with you. When do we leave?”