Page 32 of Wicked God
“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 mealways 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.”
Chapter 16
Olivia
After dinner, we decide to forgo dessert and head straight to Alex’s place. It’s not a wise decision on my part, because I’m a weak, weak woman when it comes to Alexander Hawthorne. His very presence seems to unravel me, pulling at threads I’ve spent years carefully stitching together. But he agreed to help me, so I need to learn to spend time with him without losing my head, or even worse, my heart.
In the elevator, I stand pressed against the mirrored wall, hands folded over my purse to keep them from shaking. Alex’s apartment is in the same building as the rooftop, the whole penthouse floor to himself.
