Chapter 6
Olivia
I ’ve never been one to run from my problems, yet here I am, slipping through the grand ballroom with Alex as if we’ve done this a hundred times before.
His hand is warm and solid around mine as he guides us through clusters of gossiping socialites and champagne-wielding donors.
I catch a glimpse of Cassandra across the room; she’s engrossed in a conversation with a distinguished older gentleman.
I quicken my pace, eager to slip away before she notices my impromptu exit.
The last thing I need is her protective instincts kicking in, demanding to know where I’m going with a stranger I just met. Though knowing Cassandra, she’d probably applaud my spontaneity while simultaneously lecturing me about stranger danger.
The cool evening air hits my face as we step outside, a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere of the ballroom. The valet brings around a sleek black Aston Martin, and I raise an eyebrow.
“Nice ride.”
“It’s fast.” He opens the passenger door for me. The gesture is old-fashioned, gentlemanly, and completely at odds with the reckless decision we’re both making.
I slide into the leather seat, the scent of expensive car interior mixing with his cologne and making me dizzy. Or maybe that’s just the champagne. Or the adrenaline of doing something completely insane with a man I met twenty minutes ago.
“Where to?” he asks, settling behind the wheel. The car purrs to life with a low, throaty rumble that I feel in my bones.
“Surprise me.”
He gives me a sideways glance, something wicked flickering in his grey eyes. “Dangerous words, Olivia.”
The way he says my name sends a shiver down my spine. I should be terrified—I’m in a car with a complete stranger, no one knows where I’m going, and I’ve abandoned all common sense for the sake of one night of escape. Instead, I am more alive than I have been in weeks.
This is either going to be the best decision I’ve made all week or the worst.
“I’m feeling dangerous tonight,” I admit, settling back into the plush leather seat.
Alex pulls away from the curb, navigating through the city streets as the lights blur past my window.
The silence between us isn’t awkward. It’s charged.
Electric. I steal glances at his profile as he drives, noting the strong line of his jaw, the way his fingers grip the steering wheel with casual confidence.
I never thought I’d find a man driving hot, but here I am, caught by the slow flex of muscle along Alex’s forearms as he shifts gears.
We drive through the heart of Empire Heights, past the gleaming skyscrapers and upscale boutiques that define our social world. But instead of heading toward the exclusive restaurants or private clubs where someone like Alex would typically take a date, he turns toward the harbor district.
“The marina?” I ask.
“You’ll see,” he says cryptically.
I raise an eyebrow at him but don’t press further. Instead, I write a short message to Cassandra letting her know I’m feeling unwell and will be heading home early. It’s vague enough to avoid questions but specific enough to keep her from panicking. I don’t mention Alex.
The car glides through the city, the lights blurring into streaks of gold and white. I catch glimpses of my reflection in the window, my face half-lit by the glow of the streets. I look lighter. Like the weight of the world has been momentarily lifted from my shoulders.
“You’re quiet,” Alex says after a while, his voice breaking the silence.
“I’m just... thinking.” I turn to face him. “This is so unlike me.”
“Maybe that’s exactly what you need.”
I tilt my head. “And what do you need?”
“Honestly? I just need to feel like myself again. No expectations. No masks. Just me and you.”
“Is this just us running away from our responsibilities, instead of facing them?
“Perhaps. Or maybe it’s us giving ourselves permission to breathe, to remember who we are before the world tells us who we should be. Does it have to be one or the other?”
I don’t have an answer, not really. But as the car takes us out of the busy city and along the picturesque coastline, I realize that I don’t need one.
Tonight isn’t about answers or solutions or grand revelations.
It’s about this quiet, stolen moment where the rules don’t apply and the weight of our lives feels just a little lighter.
The moon’s glow dances on the crashing waves, creating a peaceful atmosphere despite the salty breeze whipping through our open windows and tousling our hair.
We drive past the harbor toward a part of the coastline I’ve never explored, where the manicured perfection of the city gives way to something wilder, more natural.
“I hope you’re not kidnapping me,” I tell Alex.
“I can assure you, kidnapping is not part of my plans for tonight.”
Even while driving, Alex looks effortlessly put-together and casual. His slightly messy hair from the wind and his unbuttoned shirt. His tanned skin contrasts beautifully with his black hair and dark stubble, showing off his strong and muscular physique.
I have to resist the urge to reach out and touch his golden skin and admire him openly. It’s been a while since I’ve been this attracted to someone.
“Enjoying the view, Olivia?” His eyes stay on the road, but the corner of his mouth curls upward.
“The scenery’s not bad.”
“It’ll get better.” Alex takes a turn onto a secluded road that leads straight to the beach parking lot. “We’ve arrived.”
He switches off the car engine and gets out, walking around to open my door and offering me his hand. I take it, and he helps me out of the car, his heated gaze fixed on me the entire time.
The moonlit beach stretches out in front of us, the silver sand meeting the dark blue sea as far as the eye can see. As we step onto the cool sand, a rush of excitement courses through me. Our hands naturally intertwine, fitting together perfectly.
“It’s stunning,” I whisper. The breeze brushes against my skin and tugs at my hair.
Alex’s eyes lock with mine. “Not as stunning as you.”
A blush creeps up my neck, grateful for the darkness that hides it. “You certainly know how to charm a girl.”
He chuckles. “Only with you, it seems.”
We walk in comfortable silence, the crashing waves providing a soothing soundtrack.
“Why this place? Out of all the beaches in the world, why here?”
“It’s my favorite place in the world.” Alex’s grip on my hand tightens. “It’s home.”
He brings us to a halt, turning to face. “See that house up there?” He points to a silhouette perched on the dunes, barely visible in the darkness. “That’s where I spent summers with my grandparents on my mother’s side.”
I follow his gaze, picturing a younger Alex running along these very sands.
He reaches under his shirt and pulls out a simple silver chain. At the end hangs a key. “I’ve kept this with me all these years. A reminder of who I am at my core, beyond the business suits and boardrooms.”
“Thank you for sharing this with me.”
“You’re welcome. Now, come see the rest.” He extends his hand to me with a boyish grin.
I take his hand. Our shoes easily slip off as we walk barefoot on the sand. The rhythmic crash of waves against the shore is a soothing lullaby, and above us, the velvety darkness of the night sky is sprinkled with countless stars that seem to stretch on endlessly.
“This way.” Alex leads us up the steps towards the beach house. “Home sweet home.”
He uses the key to unlock the door, and we step inside. The beach house is cozy and warm, but clearly hasn’t been lived in for quite some time. But someone has been coming in and out, keeping it clean and well-maintained.
“So, is this your secret hideaway for charming unsuspecting women?” I ask. “Do you bring them here to sweep them off their feet with ocean views and childhood nostalgia?”
“You’re actually the first to cross this threshold since I was twenty. I haven’t been here in nine years. I left town, left everything behind. But I could never part with this place.” He holds up an old key. “It’s funny how a small piece of metal can represent so much of who you are.”
The first visitor in a decade. Something flutters beneath my ribs—something I refuse to examine too closely.
“I get why you loved it here. It feels like a world away from everything else, doesn’t it?”
“Exactly.” His voice drops to match the rhythm of distant waves.
“I almost forgot how peaceful it is here, how the sound of the waves and the smell of saltwater can wash away all the worries of daily life.” He turns to face me.
“And I want you to experience that. Make yourself at home.” Alex gestures towards the cozy living space.
He walks over to the fireplace and starts a fire that crackles and pops to life, casting a warm glow over the room.
I take in my surroundings. Various trinkets and family heirlooms are scattered around the room, each one telling a story about Alex’s life and family history.
“We have someone come in regularly to keep the place clean and stocked. Please, have a seat and let me be a proper host,” Alex offers, pointing to a plush sofa facing the dancing flames.
“You and proper don’t exactly go hand in hand.”
“Darling, I can be quite proper when I want to be. Would you like something to drink?”
“Sure.” I smile. “Surprise me.”
He vanishes into the kitchen with the easy confidence of someone comfortable in his own skin. I sink into the couch cushions, watching him through the doorway—the flex of his forearms as he uncorks a bottle, the curve of his spine as he bends to retrieve glasses from a low cabinet.
Alex returns bearing two glasses of merlot, the deep red catching firelight as he offers one to me.
“Red wine as requested. Though I’m afraid you’ll have to settle for my company instead of a cat.”
I accept the glass, fingertips brushing his. “What are we celebrating?”
“Being in your presence is an occasion in itself.”
I take a slow sip, letting the wine linger on my tongue before setting the glass aside. When I rise to meet him, my palms find the solid warmth of his chest.
“I’m flattered by your high expectations, but I’m not as perfect or pure as you believe.”
He tilts his head and runs his tongue over his lower lip. “I might need some proof of that.”
“Do you think I would be here if I were? Good girls don’t follow men like you to deserted beaches.”
“Are you suggesting that I’m easy?” He hums as he gently traces circles on my back.
“No,” I whisper against his lips. “I’m calling you a tease.”
Alex catches my hand, brings it to his lips, and kisses each fingertip in slow succession. The touch is intimate, almost reverent, and I can’t help imagining those lips on other, more sensitive places. Heat pools low in my belly.
Tonight isn’t about finding love or a deep emotional connection. It’s about giving in to every reckless urge I’ve denied myself for far too long.
“You promised me a tour,” I remind him, voice unsteady. “I’m still waiting.”
His eyes darken. “My mistake. What’s your preference for the grand tour? Kitchen first? Perhaps the bathroom? Or...” he pauses, voice dropping lower, “shall we skip straight to the bedroom?”
Giving in to temptation, I run my fingers along his jawline and over the rough stubble covering it. It will surely leave a mark on my sensitive skin.
Good. I want those marks. I want evidence of this night etched onto my skin.
“Let’s start with the bedroom.”