Page 103 of The Alpha's Fallen Spell
I did agree to give Erik a chance, but this is not what I had in mind. If I had known for a second that he would come after me with such single-mindedness, I would have reconsidered my decision. It was already difficult to resist him before. Now, with his hands all over me, it has become close to impossible, and the devious man seems to be well aware of this.
Now, it’s Saturday evening, and I’m going through the closing routine with mechanical precision. Margo and Dylan left an hour ago, and Alex disappeared upstairs after shooting Erik one last, baleful look. The café is empty except for the two of us.
I’m wiping down the espresso machine when I realize Erik hasn’t moved from his usual table. Glancing at the clock, I see it’s well past our normal closing time.
“We’re closed,” I call over without looking at him.
“I know.”
I turn to find him watching me with that intense focus that always makes my skin feel too tight. He has abandoned any pretense of reading, his newspaper folded neatly beside his empty cup.
“So, why are you still here?”
He rises from his chair with fluid grace, and I’m struck again by how he moves—controlled power in every step, like a predator who has decided to stop hiding and start stalking.
“Because I want to take you somewhere.”
I blink. “What?”
“A date, Fiona.” He approaches the counter slowly, giving me time to retreat if I want to. I don’t. “I want to take you on a proper date.”
My hands stop wiping. “I don’t do fancy restaurants,” I say automatically. “Or anywhere that requires special clothes or—”
“Not a restaurant,” he interrupts me, his lips quirking upward in amusement. “Something else entirely.”
“What kind of something else?”
“The kind that requires you to trust me.”
Trust. The word hangs between us, loaded with all the complications of our past. I study his face, looking for some hint of what he has planned, but his expression gives nothing away.
I should say no. Every rational part of my brain is screaming at me to maintain the boundaries I’ve worked so hard to establish. But there’s something in his eyes—not the predatory heat I’ve grown accustomed to this week, but something softer. More hopeful.
“Where?” I ask, hating how breathless I sound.
“It’s a surprise.” He leans against the counter, close enough that I can see the gold flecks in his green eyes. “All you need to know is that you should dress warmly.”
“That’s not very helpful.”
“It’s not supposed to be.” His smile turns wicked. “Half the fun is not knowing what’s coming next.”
My stomach flips at the double meaning in his words. This is dangerous territory—the kind that leads to poor decisions and morning regrets. But when he reaches across the counter to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering against my cheek, I find myself nodding.
“Okay.” The word escapes before I can take it back, and Erik’s smile transforms his entire face. It’s not the careful, measured expression he usually wears, but something genuine and brightthat makes my chest ache. “Give me ten minutes to close up,” I say, trying to inject some practicality into the moment.
“Take your time.” But he doesn’t move away from the counter, doesn’t give me space to think clearly. Instead, he watches as I finish cleaning, my nerve endings constantly aware of his presence.
I’m acutely conscious of his gaze as I move around the café—straightening chairs, wiping down tables, counting the register. When I bend over to retrieve a napkin that has fallen behind the counter, I swear I hear him draw in a sharp breath.
“Done,” I announce, probably louder than necessary.
“Good.” He’s beside me in an instant, helping me with my jacket even though I’m perfectly capable of putting it on myself. His hands linger on my shoulders longer than they need to. “Ready?”
I grab my purse and keys, trying to ignore the way my heart is racing. “This is just a date,” I say, as much to remind myself as to clarify with him. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
Erik’s smile is slow and confident. “We’ll see about that.”
Before I can formulate a response, he’s guiding me toward the door with a hand on the small of my back. The touch burns through the fabric of my clothes, and I have the unsettling realization that I’m about to spend an entire evening fighting my body’s response to his proximity.
