Page 26 of Her Possessive Dominant Fake Husband

Yet. How dare he hint at tomorrows when we had a set number of them before he ejected me from his life forever?

He was so close I could feel the warmth radiating off him, drawing me in with a force I didn’t have the strength or will to resist. It was terrifying and exhilarating, knowing he saw through every layer I tried to keep between us. There didn’t seem to be a point in trying to hide from him, he knew me far too well already. As if he’d committed every detail of every action, conversation, every hint I’d ever given.

"Happy birthday, Claire," he said again, this time just a breath away, the words wrapping around me like a promise I’d only ever dreamed of hearing.

The next afternoon, I made the choice to go visit him at work. Bad idea. I didn’t know how I kept winding up in situations where I was overhearing things I shouldn’t. Maybe I needed to wear bells or something to announce my presence. Or maybe I needed to start calling or texting Alexander to make sure now was a good time.

The heat of embarrassment and confusion washed over me, but I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t stop watching them, the way she leaned in, like she wanted to know every one of his secrets.

"You know this won’t last, Alexander," she said, looking past him, right at me. My chest constricted. She knew I was there. I didn’t think he did.

I couldn’t breathe. I shouldn’t be here. But I was rooted in place, helpless and stupid, waiting for him to say something, anything to prove her wrong.

Alexander’s jaw tensed. His shoulders squared. I knew the look. It was the one he got when he was losing patience, when he was dangerously close to saying something cutting.

"Does she know the truth, Alexander?" Allison asked, and her laughter cut like knives. I hated the way they hit my heart, sinking in deep and painful. "Did you tell her everything?"

I froze. I shouldn’t hear this. I didn’t want to hear this. But there I was, caught in their words with every passing second making it more impossible for me to speak up and let him know I was here. I hated the feeling of straining to understand what felt impossibly out of reach. I waited for him to say no, to shut herdown with that cool finality he was so good at. But he didn’t. Not right away.

Allison turned, slow and deliberate. Her eyes met mine with something like victory, and I hated the way it stung. She knew I was listening. She’d known the whole time. My throat was tight. My voice wouldn’t work.

"Oh, look," she said, her tone all sweetness and spite. "I didn’t realize we had company."

Alexander’s gaze flicked to me, finally. He was impassive, but something stormed beneath his expression. It was only a split second, but it was enough to tell me she was right, and I was wrong, and my whole world was upended.

"You should leave now," Alexander said, his voice too calm, too controlled. It wasn’t an invitation. It was a dismissal.

It was everything I couldn’t handle hearing.

Was he talking to me… or her?

Allison’s eyes sparkled with malice as she slipped past me, her smile edged with triumph. The sound of her heels clicked against the polished floors, each step a reminder that she belonged here in a way I never would. Her last look was a warning—a reminder of how fragile and temporary my place in Alexander’s life was, even if she didn’t know it.

Alexander stood there, unmoving, a beautiful, immovable statue. I waited for him to break the silence, to give me something, anything to hold onto.

But he didn’t. He watched me, too careful, like he was debating whether or not to let me in on the truth.

"That sounded like a lovely conversation," I said, my voice smaller than I wanted it to be, but somehow still upbeat.

He didn’t answer. He didn’t flinch. But he almost smiled. Almost. I was proud of myself before his words sliced me to the bone.

"You shouldn’t be here," he said. The ugly words were hard and unforgiving.

I nodded, internally fighting to keep my composure, even though he’d hurt my feelings. I wanted to make some snide comment about if she should be here, or ask if his brother was hiding in a closet, or what the heck was going on. But I said nothing.

He was right, I should never have come.

I waited a second longer than I should have. I waited a lifetime too long.

“Why?” I asked, holding my breath. My heart stumbled. My pulse hammered. And this, this was what I’d wanted to avoid all along. I was a fool to think anything else was possible. I was a fool to think last night had changed a single thing.

He didn’t answer.

"I guess I’ll go then," I whispered, finally looking away, finally conceding defeat. I turned before he could see the pain that hit my throat or the tears that threatened to spill.

And as I left, I heard it.

Alexander exhaled sharply, as if letting go of all the stress of the day, along with the stress I’d caused him. No confession. No apology. No calling me back. It was nothing at all.

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