Chapter 23
Alex
I hadn’t worn a skirt in over a year.
But when Dr. Carter pulled me aside in the hallway earlier that day—on a Thursday, when I didn't even have Economics—she whispered a command that left no fucking room for debate.
Apparently, she wanted to see my legs while she sipped her whiskey that night.
And who the hell was I to argue with that?
So then, I was staring at my reflection in the tiny propped-up mirror in the corner of my sickly pink bedroom.
I had gone for a wrap-around skirt with thick tights, because it was December in England, and I was not a total fucking masochist. I had paired it with the lacy top I wore last time, my bralette visible underneath.
I knew she liked it. I had put more effort into my hair and makeup than usual, and I had to admit—I looked lethal. Good for me.
I took a deep breath, grabbed my phone, and headed downstairs. I was sitting on the bottom step, lacing up my Docs, when I headed into the living room. My dad’s eyes widened as I walked in, and my mum—who was having one of her bad days—blinked at me before offering a soft, tired smile.
"Well, don't you look good," she said, her voice strained but kind.
"Thanks, Mum," I said, feeling a bit shy as I pulled the hem of the skirt down.
My dad shook his head, grinning. "I hope your new woman is going to look out for you tonight, darl."
I rolled my eyes. "I'm sure she will." My heart fluttered at the thought. She was going to do more than look out for me; she was basically a fucking high-society predator who’d likely commit murder if anyone even breathed on me wrong.
"Is Mia picking you up?" Mum asked.
"Actually—" I was cut off by a sharp, rhythmic knock at the door.
My stomach dropped. Carrie said she’d pick me up, but I expected a text or a quick honk of a horn—not a full-on appearance at the front door.
Shit. I raced to open it and froze. Carrie was standing on the porch with a devastating smirk.
She looked like a goddamn vision, standing on this street in clothes that were probably worth more than the yearly income of the entire neighbourhood.
Behind her, a sleek, posh car was idling by the path, complete with a professional driver. Fuck me.
Carrie cleared her throat, pulling me out of my gormless staring. "Are you ready, darling?" Her eyes scanned me from head to toe, lingering on my legs with obvious approval. "You look stunning."
I finally found the strength to close my mouth and look at her properly.
As promised, her hair was up—an elegant, slightly messy bun with soft strands framing her face.
Her makeup was striking, making her eyes look darker and more dangerous, her lips a deep, bruised burgundy.
She was wearing a dress that was shorter than her usual professional attire, showing off the lean muscle in her thighs, her legs made to look miles long by her heels.
I thought I was having a fucking heart attack.
"It's freezing with the door open, darl," my dad called out as he stepped into the hallway. He spotted Carrie and his eyes went wide before he broke into a grin. "You must be Alex’s new missus."
Oh, for fuck’s sake, Dad.
Carrie shot me a mischievous look before turning a soft, breathtaking smile on my father. She offered her hand as I reluctantly stepped aside to let her in. "Caroline," she said smoothly. "Lovely to meet you."
"Nice to meet you. I'm Phil," Dad said, shaking her hand eagerly. He gave me a look that I absolutely did not like. They’d never met anyone I’d been with before, and the first person I brought home was a woman who looked like she was carved out of marble by the fucking gods themselves.
"Why don't you step in and meet her mum before you go?" Dad suggested.
Carrie chewed on the inside of her cheek, looking at me. "I would love to."
As Dad headed back into the living room to prep my mum, Carrie raised an eyebrow at me. I let out a low groan. "I hate you."
She grinned, her hand drifting down my side as she moved past. Her fingers grazed the skin of my thigh just beneath the hem of my skirt, sending a violent shiver through my entire body. "Hate is a very strong word, darling." She leaned in closer. "Are you sure you hate me?"
I bit my lip and shut the door behind her. "No. Obviously not."
She gestured for me to lead the way. I moved awkwardly through the narrow hallway—a space even Mia hadn't stepped into—and into the living room. My mum had tried to sit up straighter, masking the pain I knew she was in. She smiled as Carrie entered, her eyes widening just like Dad’s did.
I rubbed the back of my neck, the heat rising in my cheeks. "Mum... this is Caroline."
I stood there, shifting my weight from one Doc Marten to the other, feeling the crushing weight of my two worlds colliding.
It felt too fucking weird, too soon. My house was small, smelling of damp and the medicinal tang of my mum’s prescriptions; Caroline was...
well, she was a masterpiece. She looked like she should be at a gala, not standing on my family’s threadbare carpet.
Carrie didn’t miss a beat. She walked over to my mum on the sofa with a grace that made the whole room feel suddenly more dignified. She didn't tower over her; she sank into a graceful crouch so they were eye-level, her expensive dress tightening on her thighs, distracting me from the soft moment.
"It’s a pleasure to meet you," Carrie said, her voice dropping into that gentle, warm tone I’ve only ever heard in the quietest moments between us. "Alex has told me so much about you."
My mum blinked, her hand trembling slightly as she reached out.
Carrie took it instantly, holding it with a steady, respectful strength.
"You’re very beautiful," Mum whispered, her tired eyes scanning Carrie’s face.
"And very... poised. Our Alex is a bit of a handful, I hope she’s behaving for you. "
I let out an embarrassed huff. "Mum, please."
Carrie glanced back at me, a wicked spark of the 'Dr. Vixen' persona flashing in her eyes for just a second before she turned back to my mum.
"She has her moments," Carrie replied smoothly, her thumb stroking the back of my mum's hand. "But she’s quite remarkable. You’ve raised a very strong daughter. "
The sincerity in her voice caught me off guard.
Fuck, something stupid fluttered in my chest. It wasn’t just politeness; she meant it.
I watched my mum’s face soften, a genuine bit of light reaching her eyes that I hadn't seen in days.
For all her terrifying authority at the university, here, Carrie was being exactly what my mother needed.
She was being kind. Something stuck in my throat, and I felt a bit fucking overwhelmed.
"You'll bring her back safe?" Dad asked, leaning against the doorframe.
Carrie stood up, smoothing her dress. She looked at my dad, then her gaze drifted to me, heavy and possessive. "I have no intention of letting anything happen to her, Phil. You have my word."
She reached out and curled her hand around my waist, pulling me firmly against her side. The claim was subtle to them, but to me, it was a bolt of electricity. She was telling them—and me—that I was under her protection now. Fuck, I didn't know how I was supposed to feel about this.
"We should go, darling," she murmured to me. "The driver is waiting, and I believe we have some cocktails to attend to."
"Right. Yeah," I stammered, leaning down to kiss my mum’s cheek. "Bye, Mum. Night, Dad."
"Have a good time, darl! Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Dad called out.
"That leaves her quite a lot of room, doesn't it?" Carrie quipped over her shoulder, making my dad grin, clearly pleased with her comeback.
As we stepped out onto the cold, dark street, the door clicking shut behind us, the silence of the night felt different.
The posh car was idling, its headlights cutting through the fog.
Carrie didn't let go of my waist. She stopped me before we reached the car, turning me to face her in the shadows of the driveway.
"Your parents are lovely, Alex," she whispered, her eyes dark and searching. She reached up, her fingers grazing the lace of my top. "But I believe I was promised a whiskey... and a very close watch on those legs."
My heart did a slow, heavy roll. "You're going to be the death of me tonight, aren't you?"
"Only if you're lucky," she smirked, gesturing for the driver to open the door.
As soon as the car doors shut, isolating us from the rest of the world, I didn't even reach for my seatbelt. I fucking scrambled toward her, cupping her face in my hands and stealing her lips. Fuck. I didn’t have the words for the rush of emotions crashing through me right now—the gratitude, the relief, the sheer awe—so I just used my mouth to tell her I needed her.
Carrie lost her breath for a second, her balance faltering under the sudden weight of me, but she recovered instantly.
She pulled me closer, dragging me across the leather middle seat that separated us.
I was positive that I ruined her lipstick, but fuck it, I didn’t care.
She was so much more than I ever thought a woman could be.
When I finally pulled back, her eyes were closed, her chest heaving.
She snapped them open and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, anchoring me to the middle seat beside her instead of letting me retreat to my own window.
To my surprise, her lipstick was still flawless—probably some obscenely expensive, smudge-proof brand. Typical. Perfect.
"Thank you," I breathed out, looking at her before quickly trying to fucking pull myself together. I clicked my seatbelt into place as she did the same, giving myself a moment to clear my head while the driver pulled away into the fog.
Carrie laced her fingers with mine, turning to face me. "You don't have to thank me, darling."