Chapter 4 #2
Glancing sideways, I see Mrs. Jenkins checking the garland on her front porch across the street, not even pretending not to stare. I give Alexander a quick, chaste peck on the lips.
“Don’t be stingy,” he chastises, a half-smile playing on his lips despite the challenge in his gray eyes.
Something defiant flares in me. Before I can overthink it, I slide my hand to the back of his neck and pull his mouth down to mine. I kiss him properly—the kind of kiss that would convince anyone we’re madly in love.
It’s meant to be for show, but the moment his arms tighten around me, drawing me closer, something shifts. His kiss is like nothing I’ve ever experienced—confident, possessive, and so thoroughly consuming that I forget where we are. Forget that this is pretend. Forget my own name.
When he finally pulls away, my head is spinning, and my legs feel unsteady beneath me. He laughs, the sound low and satisfied against my ear.
“Go inside,” he whispers. “I’ll bring the luggage.”
It takes a second for my legs to feel less wobbly.
Then I turn around and run inside, joining my mother in the kitchen, my face burning.
From where I stand, I hear the low rumble of my father’s voice in the foyer, helping Alexander with our luggage.
I press my hands against my cheeks, willing the blush to subside before anyone notices.
Mom is clearing Dad’s breakfast dishes from the table. She looks up when I enter, her face lighting up before returning to her tidying.
The kitchen is exactly as I remember it—warm and lived-in.
White cabinets with glass fronts displaying my mother’s collection of blue and white dishes.
The oak table dominating the center of the room, surrounded by six mismatched chairs that somehow work together.
A string of tiny white lights frames the window over the sink, and a small ceramic Christmas tree sits on the counter, the same one we’ve had since I was a child.
Family photos cover one wall—school pictures, vacation snapshots, and candid moments captured over the years. I spot one of me at graduation, another of Sophie missing her front teeth. My eyes catch on a photo of Chase and me from high school prom that somehow hasn’t been taken down.
I walk over and pick it up, studying our younger selves. My hair was longer then, my smile wider and more innocent. Chase has his arm around my waist, looking exactly like what he was—the hometown golden boy who had it all figured out.
Mom notices me holding the frame. She pauses with dishes in hand, a flash of worry crossing her face. “I meant to put that away before you arrived,” she says quietly. “I just forgot.”
“It’s okay,” I say, setting it face-down on the shelf. “It feels like it belongs to someone else’s life now.”
Mom sets the dishes in the sink and comes over to me, wiping her hands on her apron. “I’m so happy for you, honey,” she says, pulling me into a quick hug. “I can tell Alexander adores you.”
I pull out one of the kitchen chairs and sit down. “He’s wonderful,” I say, trying not to sound as awkward as I feel. “How has everyone been here?” I add quickly, eager to change the subject.
Mom wipes her hands on her apron and sits down next to me at the kitchen table. “Everyone’s doing great,” she says with a smile. “We’ve all missed you so much.” But there’s something in her expression that doesn’t match her cheerful words.
“Mom, what’s wrong?” I ask.
Her shoulders drop slightly. “Nothing’s wrong, exactly. I’m happy you came, sweetheart. But a part of me has been wishing you didn’t.”
“What do you mean?” I blink at her, confused. “You’re the one who kept insisting I come.”
Mom takes my hands in hers, and I notice new lines around her eyes that weren’t there last Christmas.
“Chase and Amber are getting engaged soon.” She says it gently, watching my face.
“I know you would rather have skipped out this year, but I wanted you to come. It’s not fair you would have to miss Christmas with your family just to avoid people who hurt you.
But I’m worried for you as well. Amber’s parents—your aunt and uncle—they’ve been pressuring your father and me to tell you to come home for Christmas. ”
I can imagine exactly why. Amber would want me here to witness her triumph, to rub her engagement in my face. She’s always been competitive with me, from grade school spelling bees to high school cheerleading tryouts. Now she’s won the ultimate prize—the hometown boy I left behind.
Mom searches my face, looking for signs of devastation. I bury the small pang of hurt deep inside and smile softly. “Like Dad said, I outgrew Chase years ago.” I squeeze her hands. “How could I possibly be upset when I have someone as incredible as Alexander?”
She returns the smile, relief evident in her eyes. “You really love him, don’t you?”
I try not to hesitate. “Yes.”
“I’m happy for you, sweetheart. But...” She lowers her voice before continuing; “he’s your boss. There’s a power imbalance there. Do you trust him?”
The question makes me chuckle, surprising both of us. “There is no one I trust more than Alexander.” I add quickly, “You and Dad not counting, of course.”
As the words leave my mouth, I realize I mean them. For all his cool exterior and demanding nature, Alexander has always been fair. He’s pushed me to excel, trusted my judgment, and valued my contributions. In six years, he’s never let me down when it mattered.
“I heard my name.” Alexander’s deep voice comes from the doorway.
He strides into the kitchen followed by my father, not a wrinkle on his clothes or a hair out of place despite having just carried our luggage.
He walks straight to me, places his hands on my shoulders from behind, and drops a kiss on the top of my head.
The casual intimacy of it makes my breath catch.
“I hope you were saying nice things about me,” he says, looking down at me with warmth in his eyes I’ve never seen before.
I don’t understand this transformation. The man standing behind me is still Alexander—still confident, still commanding—but he’s showing a warmth I’ve never seen. My traitorous heart flutters.
“We were just catching up,” Mom says, getting up from the table. “Let me make some breakfast for you two. You must be hungry after your trip.”
“Don’t you have to open the shop today?” I ask, picking up a handful of salted peanuts from an open jar on the kitchen table.
“I’m going to ask Clara to open it for me today,” Mom glances at the wall clock. “I’ll go there by noon. I want to spend some time with my baby today. Speaking of babies, do you want to go pick up Sophie from school in the afternoon?”
My lips curve. “She’ll be so surprised. Do you mind?” I glance up at Alexander who still has his hands on my shoulders.
He squeezes them and smiles quietly. “If that is what you want. We can even walk into town, and you can show me around.”
“That’s a great plan,” Dad says, clapping Alexander on the shoulder like they’re old friends instead of people who met twenty minutes ago. “But why walk? You have a car.”
“That’s your car,” Alexander replies smoothly. “You should take it for a spin.”
Dad laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m going to a job. Where would I keep all my supplies?”
“You can keep the truck for your supplies,” Alexander says confidently, “but you can use the car for driving around town.”
I can’t help but laugh at the eager expression on my father’s face. “Just do it, Dad. I know you want to show off.”
Dad’s cheeks redden, but he squares his shoulders with a gruff clearing of his throat. “Well, if you guys insist.” He glances at Alexander. “Come. I’ll show you my equipment.”
Alexander follows my dad outside to his pickup truck.
I watch through the window as Dad shows off his gear—pipe wrenches, plungers, a snake tool, and an assortment of copper fittings.
Alexander handles the tools with surprising ease, clearly not bothered about getting his expensive clothes dirty.
Dad’s face lights up as he hands Alexander his prized pipe cutter, and I can’t help but smile at the way my father gestures enthusiastically while Alexander nods with genuine interest.
“I noticed you guys haven’t started decorating for Christmas yet,” I say, turning back to Mom and grabbing another fistful of peanuts. “You and Dad usually have the house covered by now, Mom.”
Mom wipes her hands on her apron. “He was waiting for you to come home, honey. So the two of you could do it together like always.”
Dad claps Alexander on the back, hard enough to make a normal man stumble, as they return from outside.
“She means the three of us now!” he booms. “This fella looks like he’s got some muscle on him.
Good strong shoulders. Perfect for hanging those roof lights and hauling in the big tree we’ll pick out from Miller’s lot! ”
I nearly choke on the peanuts. My eyes turn towards Alexander, horrified. The same man who adjusts his tie when it shifts a millimeter out of place wrestle with an eight-foot Christmas tree? “Dad, I don’t think Alexander can—”
“It’s been a long time since I decorated the house for Christmas,” Alexander cuts in. “I’m looking forward to it. I don’t know much about Christmas trees, though.”
My father beams at him. “Don’t you worry, son. I’ll teach you everything you need to know. A man should know how to select the fittest tree there is.”
I give Alexander a pleading look, but he completely ignores me. Turning to my mother, I ask quickly, “What about Sophie? I thought picking out the Christmas tree was Dad and Sophie’s special thing.”
Mom chuckles. “This year she turned your father down. Her friends are doing a Christmas bake sale during the Winter Wonderland Festival, and she’s more interested in taking part in that.”
“She’ll have to get up pretty early,” I say doubtfully, my brain still trying to come up with a way to dissuade my Dad from taking Alexander with him.
“I should head out to Mrs. Henderson’s before her basement becomes an indoor swimming pool,” Dad says, checking his watch. “By the way, Olivia, you sure brought a lot of bags with you.” He gives me a teasing look. “Are you planning to move back home permanently?”
“Very funny, Dad,” I say, dryly. “We have to go back to work after New Year’s.”
Alexander cuts in smoothly. “We’re planning to visit my family after the new year as well.”
My parents exchange a meaningful look that makes my stomach flip.
“So you two are meeting the families...” Mom murmurs, not even trying to hide her delight.
“Of course,” Alexander says, his voice serious. “I want to introduce the woman I love to my parents and brothers.”
My jaw practically hits the floor. The woman he loves? He’s laying it on way too thick.
“I’ll walk you out, Dad,” I say quickly, desperate for escape.
Dad gives me a quick hug and kisses my forehead. “It’s good to have you home, Livie-girl.”
“Come on,” I grab Alexander’s hand, ignoring the way my skin tingles at the contact. “Let’s walk Dad to his truck.”
Outside, the winter air bites at my cheeks, a welcome relief from the warmth that’s been building inside me since Alexander’s performance began.
Alexander and I watch Dad climb into the truck, his eyes lingering on the brand new car next to him.
I can tell he would much rather be driving that right now.
A wistful smile tugs at my lips at seeing how happy he is.
Waving as Dad pulls out of the driveway, I whirl on Alexander the moment his truck disappears around the corner. “What are you doing?” I hiss, my voice low.
Alexander takes a step closer, his expression amused. “I believe I’m being an attentive boyfriend.”
“You got him a car? A car?! Meeting your family? ‘The woman you love’?” My voice rises with each word. “They’re going to be devastated when this ends!”
“Who says it’s ending?”
I freeze, staring at him. “What?”
A slow smile spreads across his face, and he gently takes my hand, his fingertips brushing against my wrist. “I’m kidding, Olivia.”
My heart is doing an Olympic gymnastics routine in my chest. “It’s not funny.”
“Your parents believe us, don’t they?” His fingers drift lightly over my skin, making it hard to concentrate.
“Yes, but—”
“Then our plan is working.” He leans down, his breath warm against my ear. “Just play along.”
I shiver, and it has nothing to do with the December chill. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“And you’re not enjoying it enough.” His eyes crinkle at the corners when he grins. “Where’s your Christmas spirit?”
“I left it in New York, along with my sanity.” But despite myself, I feel a smile tugging at my lips.
He brushes a strand of hair from my face, and my breath catches. “We should go inside before your mother comes looking for us.”
I watch him walk back toward the house, the confidence in his stride, the way his sweater stretches across his shoulders.
I’ve seen Alexander Castellano in boardrooms and benefit galas, in crisis meetings and victory celebrations.
I’ve seen him command rooms full of billionaires, reduce grown men to stammering messes with a single raised eyebrow.
But I’ve never seen him like this—relaxed, charming, devastatingly attentive.
And the scariest part? I like it. I like the way his hand feels in mine, the casual touches, the soft kisses. I like how he looks standing on my parents’ front porch, like he somehow belongs here.
“Coming?” He turns at the door, one eyebrow raised in question.
My heart does a little flip that has no business happening. This is all pretend. In a few weeks, we’ll go back to New York, back to our professional relationship. Back to Mr. Castellano and Ms. Hartley.
“Olivia?” He’s waiting, patient but expectant, those gray eyes holding mine.
“Yeah,” I say, forcing myself to move forward. “I’m coming.”
As I reach him, he slips his arm around my waist, drawing me against his side like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Relax,” he murmurs against my hair. “You look like you’re heading to the gallows, not returning to your mother’s famous hot chocolate.”
“How did you know about her hot chocolate?”
His smile is enigmatic. “I pay attention.”
“To what?”
“To you.”
The simple statement steals my breath away. Before I can respond, he’s guiding me through the door, back into the warmth of my childhood home.
And I realize I’m in serious trouble. Because for a brief, insane moment, I forget this is all fake. For just a heartbeat, I let myself believe that Alexander Castellano—my boss, the billionaire CEO—actually wants me.
“Hot chocolate and breakfast are ready!” Mom calls from the kitchen.
Alexander’s fingers intertwine with mine, and he gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “Come on, girlfriend,” he says, and the teasing note in his voice brings me crashing back to reality.
This is all pretend. Nothing more. I just need to remember that, and I’ll be fine. It’ll all be fine.