Chapter 15
Olivia
M y closet door hangs open, clothes strewn across my bed and floor like a crime scene in progress.
The little black dress I’ve finally chosen clings in all the right places without being desperate.
Underneath, I’ve chosen the red lace set I bought in a moment of boldness but never had the courage to wear.
Alexander won’t see it, but knowing it’s there makes me stand a little straighter, breathe a little deeper.
My own secret armor for the evening ahead.
I take another look in the mirror, second-guessing my choice again. The bright red lipstick feels too bold, too daring. I grab a tissue and blot it off for the second time, opting for a softer pink shade instead.
God, I’m a mess.
The doorbell rings, sending a flock of butterflies on a frantic escape through my ribcage.
“Coming!” I call, and Duchess slinks around the corner, her tail high and twitching, eyes narrowed.
I open the door and there he stands—Alex Hawthorne, a vision of suavity with his dark hair, white dress shirt with the sleeves pushed up, black pants, leather jacket slung over broad shoulders. He’s every inch the man who could ruin you with a smile.
“Good evening, Olivia,” Alex greets me. Our eyes meet, and the air between us crackles.
“Alex.” I step aside, bracing for Duchess’s usual hissing fit. She dislikes strangers, and even more so hates men. But to my surprise, she weaves between Alex’s legs, purring like a motorboat.
“Well, hello there,” Alex crouches, scratching under her chin. Duchess—my man-hating, demon-possessed cat—actually closes her eyes in bliss.
“That’s... impossible,” I whisper.
He glances up, mouth curved. “Your little monster doesn’t seem so fearsome.”
“She must like you. Duchess isn’t usually this… agreeable.”
“We understand each other, don’t we, Your Highness?” He stands as Duchess prances away, mission accomplished. “I have that effect on felines. And their owners, if I’m not mistaken.”
My cheeks flush. “Don’t flatter yourself, Hawthorne.”
He leans in, lips grazing my cheek. My knees turn to jelly. I inhale sharply, catching the scent of his cologne—spicy and intoxicating. Familiar.
“You look breathtaking,” he murmurs.
My heart does this stupid little tap dance. “Thanks.”
“Ready?”
I nod, not trusting my voice. As I reach for my purse, his fingers slide between mine. The touch is electric and intimate, like we never left that windswept beach house. Like I never ruined everything with my own idiocy.
“Shall we?” His voice is velvet.
We slip into his car. The silence between us is charged, the engine’s thrum echoing the beat of my heart. He drives fast, city lights blurring past, until we stop in front of a sleek high-rise. I frown, caught off guard.
“Alex, what are we doing here?” I whisper as he leads me into the lobby.
He just smiles. “You’ll see.”
The elevator climbs, higher and higher, until it opens on the top floor. Alex guides me down a hushed hallway, through a door, and onto the rooftop. I gasp, my eyes widening at the sight before me.
The entire rooftop has been transformed into a romantic oasis.
Twinkling fairy lights are strung overhead, casting a soft glow over the space.
In the center stands a table for two, adorned with a crisp white tablecloth and flickering candles.
The city skyline serves as a breathtaking backdrop, the lights of the city stretching out as far as the eye can see.
“ Oh ,“ I breathe, unable to tear my gaze away from the magical scene.
My mind races, trying to reconcile this grand romantic gesture with the conversation we’re about to have.
Alex offers me a warm smile, his eyes reflecting city lights as he pulls out a chair for me at the elegantly set table. I sit, hands folded in my lap, and the tension between us shifts. It’s softer now. Quieter. Like the hush after a storm.
He pours champagne, the bubbles rising in frantic little bursts. I take the glass, my fingers brushing his. “Thank you for this. It’s beautiful.”
His gaze lingers, intense, unblinking. Enough to make me shiver. “You deserve nothing but the best, Olivia.”
“Do you still think so? Even after everything?”
“I’ve never stopped thinking that. Not for a single moment.”
It’s too much. I drop my eyes, set the glass aside before my trembling fingers betray me.
Like clockwork, two servers appear, silent and efficient, setting down delicate plates in front of us. The food is artful, fragrant with truffle and herbs, making my mouth water and momentarily stilling the butterflies in my stomach.
“This looks delicious,” I say, picking up my fork. I take a small bite, savoring the explosion of flavors on my tongue. It’s a welcome distraction from the conversation looming ahead.
“I’m glad you like it.” He sips his champagne, then sets the glass down and clears his throat. “I’ve been thinking about the weekend.”
My heart skips a beat. Here we go. I force my shoulders to relax. “Did?”
“Yes.” His tone is light, but his eyes flicker with something darker. Hurt. Disappointment. “I was expecting your call.”
Guilt hits, sharp and immediate. “Alex, I—”
He lifts a hand, stopping me. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad, Olivia. I just… I guess I was hoping to hear from you. To know where we stand.”
“The weekend was wonderful, Alex. I’m sorry I didn’t call.” The guilt is there, but something else rises, too. “But Alex, you told me you’re engaged. Even if it’s just a marriage of convenience, even if you didn’t know your fiancée—how was I supposed to ignore that?”
His brow arches—surprise, then consideration.
“You’re right. I suppose that’s rather hypocritical of me, but I’ve never thought about the arrangement as being a done deal before.
Part of me always expected some way out.
A lifeline, I guess, and then you came along, and I realized how much I wanted one. ”
I twist the napkin in my lap. “Alex, I need you to understand why I’m doing this. Tiffany isn’t just my sister. She’s everything. My whole world.”
Memories flash: scraped knees, whispered promises in the dark, the vow I made in a hospital room.
“I swore I’d protect her. Give her a real life.
No matter what it costs me.” My voice cracks, and I don’t bother to hide it.
He covers my hand with his, warm and steady, and I know he understands.
“I know it seems extreme, but I can’t let her be trapped in a loveless marriage.
She deserves better than that. And if I have to sacrifice my happiness to ensure hers, then so be it. ”
Alex’s brow knits tight. He traces lazy circles on the back of my hand. “But does Tiffany know about this—about you and me, about your plan?”
I bite my lip. “No. She has no clue.”
His eyes go wide—dark and searching. I rush to explain, “I couldn’t risk her finding out and trying to stop me. She’d never agree to let me do this for her.”
“If we hadn’t spent that weekend together at the beach house, would you have asked me to marry you instead of Tiffany?”
My breath catches in my throat. I take a moment to consider, my fingers tracing the stem of my wineglass.
“No. I don’t have a habit of making impulsive decisions like that. I never intended to involve you in this mess, but circumstances changed after that weekend. I trust you. Maybe it’s foolish, but I can’t do this alone.”
Even if it meant leaving my life behind and starting fresh somewhere far away.
Alex leans back in his chair, his expression unreadable. “I appreciate your honesty.”
The waiter appears, clearing our plates and setting down our main courses. When he leaves, Alex takes a deep breath and says, “Okay.”
“Okay?” I echo, breath catching.
He meets my eyes. “Okay. Let’s do this together.”
Relief floods me. I squeeze his hand, not caring that my voice shakes. “Thank you.”
“We need ground rules. A real plan. Let’s finish dinner, then go back to my place and figure everything out.”
This is really happening , I think. We’re actually doing this.
The enormity of what we’re undertaking suddenly hits me.
I draw in a shaky breath. “I want you to know how much this means to me. Your willingness to help is more than I could have hoped for.”
His expression softens, his eyes stripping away my defenses until only raw honesty remains.
This man, who has every reason to run, isn’t just staying—he’s jumping headlong into my chaos.
I’m not sure if he’s saved me, or if I’ve completely doomed him.
“You don’t have to thank me. Not yet, anyway.
” His fingers tighten, thumb smoothing over my knuckles.
“Let’s make sure neither of us gets destroyed in the process. ”