Page 10

I ’m not sure how I got here, how I went from avoiding the annoying playboy to hanging off every word he says, but here we are. In the last two hours I have learned a number of things about the blond Prince Charming, and all of them are slightly unbelievable. First, Alexander Reign might just be the smartest person I have ever met. Second, he somehow knows exactly how to explain things to me in a way I can understand them. And third, I absolutely loathe the first two things on this list.

Alexander and I are both sitting side by side at his desk after he stole an extra chair from Archer’s room, and he’s in the middle of explaining one of his businesses to help me understand the first half of questions on the paper from Mr. Rogers. He somehow has the ability to make everything sound simple and easy, while also using words I’ve never heard before in the most eloquent and thought out explanation ever. It’s both fascinating and infuriating, and also the longest he has gone without flirting with me since we met. I hate to admit it, and I wouldn’t unless under severe duress, but he’s actually a great tutor.

“That’s why I do an investment analysis before anything else, because if you want to make more money, then you have to be confident in where it’s going,” he continues, cutting into my thoughts, and I track his mouse as it flies across the screen and brings up yet another chart. “See this one, I didn’t do enough research because it was an old friend from school, and it resulted in a big loss,” he adds casually, flicking to another document and pointing out numbers for me to see.

“You lost two million dollars?” I question in shock, almost sure that I’ve read it wrong or there is a typo or something, but apparently not.

“Pounds, and yeah that really ruined my morning workout that one,” he muses mindlessly, moving back to his laptop screen and pulling up something else, but all I can do is stare at the not typo in despair.

I know Evie joked a couple of times about him being rich, but what she forgot to mention is that he isn’t just rich, he’s insanely wealthy. Like wealth that usually only comes from generations, with figures so high they’re almost obscene and unbelievable, yet you would never guess it applied to Alexander. Yeah he’s a cocky asshole, but after sitting here for the last two hours, I can also see he is passionate and hardworking. He cares about his companies, donates a ridiculously high amount to a variety of charities, and still seems down to earth. I don’t feel inferior in his presence, even sitting here with him tutoring me on business. It doesn’t matter that our tax brackets will never even be close to aligning, or that my knowledge is severely lacking, still he treats me with nothing but respect. So much so that I almost can’t compare this version of him with the one I originally came to know over the last week.

How can a cocky, playboy asshole jock also be a kind and compassionate brainiac?

“So that covers the extent of what Mr. Roger’s expects, but I’ll put together a reference document for you and add some extra stuff that I think will be useful,” he declares, eyes still focused on the screen.

“Oh no, you don’t have to do that, I’ve taken plenty of notes,” I start to disagree, holding up my notebook as evidence, but he dismisses me with a wave of his hand.

“It’s no trouble, love, it will be useful to have it online and then I can add to it whenever we start a new topic in class,” he replies distractedly, already pulling up a document and labeling it ‘Aubree’.

“Well, thank you, you have no idea how much I appreciate this,” I admit softly, not wanting to get into the reasons I’m behind, but needing him to know I’m grateful.

With my words he stops typing and turns to cock a brow at me. “Now now, Trouble, don’t start being nice to me or my dick will get confused.” He pairs his words with a wink and I almost scoff, as the playboy I have come to know returns.

“Just when I thought you were starting not to be an asshole,” I reply with a shake of my head, forcing myself not to smile at his bullshit.

His only response is to tap the computer screen with a wink. “A rich asshole, remember?”

I shake my head pushing back from his desk. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re adorable when mad,” he responds, pushing away from the desk himself and pulling out his phone. “Now we should arrange the best time for our future sessions. I have practice Tuesday and Thursday evenings, and Saturday mornings, and most of the time games on Fridays,” he continues, studying his phone. “Evenings work best for me as I usually have classes all day, and then my mornings are spent working out, but if you prefer mornings I can switch things around for you.” His eyes lift from his phone and look at me expectantly, but I’m honestly not sure what to say. No one has ever offered to accommodate me in this way.

“Evenings are fine, just whenever you can fit me in, you’re the one with the busy schedule so I’ll work around you,” I tell him, knowing he must take hockey seriously to still be playing it when he already has his own businesses to run. Where does he even find the time?

“Just because I’m busier than you doesn’t mean your time is any less valuable, Aubree,” he scolds, and from the way his brows crease as he stares at me, I can tell he really means that.

I drop his gaze as I reach for my bag and pull out my timetable, glancing over it before I say, “Okay then can we stick to Monday afternoons, and maybe Thursday evenings after you’re done with practice? My classes run late on Wednesdays and I don’t really want to commit to doing more work.”

Alexander is already nodding, tapping away in his phone. “It’s a date,” he states, and I stifle my groan as I heave my bag onto my shoulder.

“No it’s not, it’s a study session,” I warn him, and the smirk I have been accustomed to seeing over the past week returns in full force.

“If you say so, Trouble,” he smiles, leading me out of his room and passing me his phone. “Here, put your number in so we can reach one another, just in case we’re running late or anything.”

I take it but then eye him sternly, as we move towards the stairs. “So I give you my number and you promise to only use it to talk about tutoring, and not to send me unsolicited pictures of your dick.”

He barks a laugh as we descend the stairs, shaking his head at me in amusement. “Please, I would never do that,” he confirms, sounding nothing but sincere, especially with that accent of his, but as he reaches the bottom he turns and adds, “It wouldn’t fit on the phone screen.”

I stare after him in shock, but then the smile I was repressing spreads across my face, as I type in my number and save it, before calling my phone and doing the same. Only then do I follow after him, finding him in the kitchen with Archer and Daemon. Alexander is rummaging around in the refrigerator, as Daemon cooks, and Archer sits on the counter beside him.

“Bree, you’re still here,” Archer beams, like he is genuinely excited to see me. “It’s good to see you again, sorry about before,” he adds, and I stare between him and his boyfriend with a tight smile.

“Nice to see you too, especially fully clothed and you know, separate.” I gesture between the two of them, trying not to blush, and Archer throws his head back and laughs, as a small smirk pulls on the corner of Daemon’s mouth.

“Are you staying for dinner?” Archer asks, looking between me and Alexander, but Alexander says nothing and just looks at me expectedly, like he wouldn’t mind either way.

“Oh, no, I don’t want to impose,” I start, but much like his roommate, Archer is already shaking his head as he interrupts me.

“Nonsense, you’re not interrupting anything, not in the kitchen anyway,” he winks. “Besides, Daemon’s only talent isn’t just fucking me, he’s an amazing cook too.”

Daemon stops what he’s stirring and glares at his boyfriend, but there is nothing but love behind it. “Baby, I think she saw enough before, stop embarrassing her.”

Archer holds up his hand in mock surrender. “What? I can't help it if I like your cock and your cooking.”

I shake my head as I smile at him. “Well, just to be clear, I’m only staying for the cooking,” I reply, letting my bag fall to the floor, as Alexander moves to pull out a chair at the counter for me.

“Good because the cock is taken,” Archer muses, grabbing Daemon by his shirt and pulling him in for a kiss, and then it’s like the rest of us disappear as they melt into their own little world with one another.

It’s a strange display, because I can honestly say that until I got here, I don’t think I have ever seen people in love like this up close. Not in the way I’m used to anyway. I mean back home there is no PDA, not like what I’ve seen since being here. It’s all hand holding and kisses on the cheek, not passionate displays because you can’t keep your hands off one another. I saw it first with Evie and Jake, then again on Friday night with Nova and Maddie, and Josh and Hallie. Now these two. Even before, when we walked in on them fucking on the sofa, yes it made me feel mortified, but there was also something else there too. A deep yearning for that kind of love and affection, and for some reason I’m not sure Ben and I will ever be like them.

“Don’t worry, you get used to them,” Alexander tells me, sliding into the stool beside me, and when I flick my stare to him, he is holding out a can of pink lemonade.

“Don’t think just because you agreed to be my tutor, and that you got me my favorite drink, that it means we’re all of a sudden friends,” I warn him, snatching the can from his hand, and that insufferable smirk of his returns.

“Good,” he grins, and I blink back in confusion.

“Good?”

“Yeah, good, because my intentions when it comes to you are the opposite of friendly, Aubree.” He pairs his words with the slow appraisal of my body, and I have to fight the urge not to squirm.

“I have a boyfriend, remember?” I tell him, my voice coming out a little more breathy than I intended, and his eyes darken.

“I remember,” he grits, his jaw tightening, and before he can say anything else, Archer cuts in.

“What’s your boyfriend’s name, Bree, does he go here?” I flick my stare back to the man in question, as Daemon goes back to cooking, and Archer watches me, his gaze bouncing between his roommate and me.

“His name is Ben, and no, he lives across the state,” I start, smiling politely. “Plus he already graduated last year, he works as a youth pastor now,” I add, and at my words all three of them share a loaded look, and I shift slightly, expecting some judgement, but none comes.

“Nice, how long have you been together?” Archer asks, and I get a feeling that he’s the type of guy who likes to be friends with everyone, like an excited golden retriever.

“Erm, about three years officially, but we’ve been friends since I was five and he was eight, so I guess it was a long time coming.” It feels a little weird to tell the three of them something so personal considering I hardly know them, but I guess given who my dad is to them, that I know I can trust them to an extent.

“I bet your dad loves that,” Archer jokes, and I cringe a little at how right he is. My dad has never liked Ben, not when we were just friends, and definitely not now.

“About as much as you can imagine,” I reply with a laugh.

“Why is your dad scary or something?” Alexander cuts in, taking a sip of his drink and leaning back in his chair, putting his arm across the back of mine.

I look at him in confusion, flicking my stare to Archer and Daemon, and the former shakes his head with a smile, while the latter hides his smirk by dropping his head. It’s only then that it dawns on me that Alexander has no idea who my father is. He wasn’t in the kitchen on Friday night when Jake introduced me to the other guys on the team, and I guess no one has filled him in since. Oh this is brilliant .

“Oh yeah, super scary, he’s six-foot-five, a Navy SEAL, and totally hates jocks and businessmen,” I tell him with a straight face, and I see his eyes widen a little, as Archer and Daemon hide their amusement.

“And he hasn’t snapped Ben like a twig yet, why?” he instantly asks, and I almost roll my eyes at his question.

“He knows I love him,” I shrug, not thinking anything of it, but Alexander sits up a little straighter.

“And do you? Love him I mean?” he confirms, and I open my mouth to respond but then pause, because I’m not sure what to say.

I mean, yes, of course I love Ben, we’ve been in each other’s lives forever, so when we went from friends to more it felt natural, even despite our three year age gap, but as I flick my eyes back to Archer and Daemon, I can’t help but feel like maybe our love and their love is different. Ben doesn’t look at me like he might die without me, his body doesn’t move with mine like they are magnets, and we definitely don’t have the same level of passion, but that doesn’t mean we don’t love each other. Our love just isn't the same and that’s okay. Right?

“Yes of course I do,” I rush out, but from the way Alexander is staring at me, like he can see all the way into my soul, I get a feeling he doesn’t believe me.

Thankfully, Daemon clears his throat. “Dinner is two minutes out,” he grunts to the three of us, before moving his attention to Archer. “Get the plates, baby.”

I shift in my seat, remaining under Alexander’s weighted gaze, as Archer and Daemon dish up the meal Daemon cooked, and then join us at the counter to eat. I tell them a little more about my hometown, of course not mentioning the trauma of my dead mom and grandma, and I listen to the story of how Archer and Daemon got into a relationship. Apparently they used to hate one another, which is honestly hard to believe looking at them now, but when Alexander tells the story of Daemon breaking in on Christmas night, I am laughing until my sides hurt.

It’s almost ten when I get up to leave, and when I say my goodbyes and tell them I need to get home, Alexander insists on driving me. To no one’s surprise when he leads me to the garage, there is a black sleek car hiding there that I’m pretty sure is an Aston Martin, and I refrain from rolling my eyes as he opens the passenger door for me and helps me inside. Once he joins me I give him my address, and we begin our journey across town. He points out a few places as recommendations of good places to eat, and when we pass the white church again, my eyes can’t help but linger.

When we pull up to my apartment building, Alexander leans forward to look out of the front window as he turns off the car engine. “This is where you live?” His question seems innocent enough, but I can tell from the slight tone in his words that it isn’t up to his standard.

The houses on Hockey Row are ridiculously nice for college housing, although I’m sure given his net worth he is used to a lot nicer, but the apartment building isn’t so bad. Sure, it could do with a few updates, maybe some more lights outside, and some definite painting inside, but it isn’t that bad.

“Yep,” I reply, popping the P and instantly reaching for my door to get out. “Thanks for today,” I add over my shoulder, but to my surprise Alexander is climbing out on his own side. “What are you doing?” I ask, and for the first time he looks at me like I’m stupid.

“Walking you to your door of course,” he replies, like it’s obvious.

“You don’t have to do that,” I start, but he rounds the car and cuts me off.

“Aubree you’re a young, beautiful woman in a new town, just because the town of Fairfield is nice doesn’t mean bad things don’t happen here. I’m walking you to your door.”

His little speech takes me by surprise, and all I can do is nod in agreement as he gestures for me to lead the way. His hand curves around the edge of my elbow, just a grazing touch as he guides me towards the door, and I can see his eyes everywhere, checking everything. He leads me into the building, up the four flights of stairs, and all the way to my apartment door, his eyes inspecting everything, and he doesn’t relent until I have my door unlocked and I am over the threshold.

“Lock the door before I leave,” he demands, and I smile softly.

“Thank you, Alexander,” I tell him, and his eyes finally come back to mine.

“For walking you home?” he asks, completely confused, and I nod.

“For that, and for everything else.”

Then I close the door and turn the lock before he can respond, wondering how the hell I went from detesting his presence, to enjoying a full night of his company in the space of a week, coming to only one conclusion.

Alexander was right, he isn’t a heathen, he is so much worse than that.