I arch a brow, playing along. “Yup, you and me—one date.” My voice is teasing, but my heart pounds in anticipation. His eyes gleam with mischief, like he already knows how this is going to end.
“I’ll have you begging for more,” he murmurs, the confidence in his tone sending a direct jolt through me. It’s a new feeling—one no one has ever made me experience before.
A slow smile spreads across my lips. “Is that so?” I bite my lip, testing him, inviting him to make his next move.
He steps closer, closing the space between us, his fingers grazing my chin. His thumb tugs at my bottom lip before gliding over it, slow and deliberate. My breath hitches, the air between us thick with unspoken desire. For a moment, time suspends, and I vibrate at the possibility of his lips on mine.
The penthouse elevator dings, and the doors slide open. Standing there, framed in the golden glow of the entryway, is my father.
His eyes widen as he takes in the sight before him—Alex and I, far too close, caught in a moment that I wish I could freeze or rewind.
If the ground could swallow me whole, I would gladly let it.
Alex straightens immediately, assuming the calm confidence he always carries himself with, tempered by something more measured, more calculated.
“Father.” My voice is barely above a whisper. It’s all I can manage.
Alex’s gaze flicks to mine, his expression unreadable but careful. He gets it. He understands, after what I shared with him this afternoon. Without a word, he steps back, nodding once before saying, “I’ll talk to you later.”
And just like that, he strides past my father, stepping into the elevator as if nothing had happened. The doors close behind him with a quiet finality, leaving behind only thick, suffocating tension.
Mortimer doesn’t move. He stands there, his expression unreadable, his sharp eyes assessing me, peeling back the layers of what he’s witnessed. My pulse is hammering in my ears.
“Do you want to come inside?” I ask—my pathetic attempt to smooth over the awkwardness.
“Elena, who was that?” His tone is clipped and controlled.
I force myself to meet his gaze. “A friend.”
He exhales sharply through his nose, stepping further inside. “Philippa told me about the accident.” He raises his brow. “Is that him?”
I stiffen.
How much did she tell him?
“She said you met a man who stayed with you…Is that the friend?” he continues, eyeing me like I’m a puzzle he’s yet to solve.
I exhale sharply, folding my arms. “Yes, and what of it?” My voice comes out firmer than I intend, but I don’t back down.
“You’re here barely two weeks and already getting into incidents with strange men. Men who don’t even botherintroducing themselves,” he snaps. “Then I have to read about you onPage Six. I should sue the hell out of them for printing that garbage.”
He drags a hand through his hair, frustration bleeding into something rawer. “If something happened to you—” His voice breaks.
At first, I think he’s angry with me. But he’s not. He’sworried.The realization knocks some of my irritation down a notch.
This is new for him.
I went from a teenager to an adult in the time we’ve been apart, so it’s not like I owe him an explanation about the comings and goings of my budding love life. “I’m fine. A knock on the head, some stitches, and a concussion, but I’m not dying.” I try to make light of it. “And Kylie has the media handled. Don’t give yourself a heart attack.”
His eyes widen, but he recovers his composure quickly.
“Seeing my daughter in the arms of a rather imposing man was enough to give me a heart attack,” he mutters, and I nearly choke. Mortimer Montgomery just made a joke?
What planet am I on right now?
I smirk. “You should’ve seen all the bikie gang members I used to entertain back at home.”
He shakes his head, rolling his eyes at my humor. “This man seems a little old for you, no?” His voice is careful, like he’s trying to avoid setting me off.