Page 19

W hen we pull up outside of Frankie’s, my brows crowd together in confusion, as I look between the bar and Alexander, but the latter only smirks. It was almost two months ago that we first met here, and that night feels like a distant memory now given our new found friendship, but still I climb out alongside him as he opens my door.

“Really? You brought me here?” I ask in surprise, but I can’t help but feel grateful, because when I agreed to go for a drink I half expected some ridiculous high-brow bar where I would have felt completely out of place.

“What? I hear it’s a great place to meet people,” he tosses back with a wink, before locking his car and leading me inside.

The place looks a lot cleaner than I remember from the last time I was here, but I was mildly intoxicated then, so I guess I can’t blame myself for not really remembering much about the state of it. Alexander leads us to one of the booths along the back wall, and I notice the couple of staff members tending the bar, looking between us and themselves in surprise. Sure, I know it’s the middle of the day and we are coming into a bar, but it’s not like we are the only ones here.

The older looking of the two quickly grabs a tray and some napkins, and heads toward us in a panic. “Mr. Reign, I didn’t know you were planning on coming today,” he rushes out, placing a sleek black menu in front of each of us, and Alexander excuses him with a wave of his hand.

“It was a last minute thing, Adam, don’t worry, I’m just here for a drink with a friend, not to check up on you,” he replies smoothly, and I look between the two of them totally lost.

“Of course not, boss,” the guy, Adam, responds, and it’s only then his meaning registers.

“Boss?” I repeat in question, looking between the waiter and Alexander, and the latter sighs. “What does he mean by boss?” I demand, and Alexander nods at the waiter, who disappears in an instant.

“I own the bar,” he states simply, and I blink back, still totally lost.

“You own the bar,” I repeat in disbelief, looking around, noting the wait staff still staring at him, and it’s only now I register their fear. He isn’t kidding. He really owns this place. “So, the night we met, you were here working?” I ask, trying to make sense of all of this, but Alexander shakes his head.

“No, I didn’t own the bar then, it’s a recent acquisition,” he explains carefully, and the cogs in my mind start turning.

What does he mean, it’s a recent acquisition? So he didn’t own it then, but he does now? Why?

“How recent?” I dare to ask, scared that I may already know the answer, and his response has me swallowing thickly.

“About two months ago, it was a good investment,” he replies, watching me with a blank mask, and even though I guessed that would be his answer, it still doesn’t make any sense.

Why would he buy the bar we met in?

A glaringly obvious answer slams to the forefront of my mind, but I push it aside, and signal my hand to the waiter. Alcohol, I need alcohol .

“I’ll have a shot of tequila, please,” I call out loudly toward the bar, and of course given who I am sitting with, the waiter jumps right to it, no doubt pouring me the best tequila they have, quickly bringing it to the table with lime and salt.

“Here you go, miss,” he starts, shakily placing down my things, before he turns to Alexander. “Anything for you, boss?” he adds in question, but Alexander is fixated on me, as I spill the salt on the back of my hand, lick it, down the shot, and then bite the lime.

“Just a sparkling water for me please, but the lady will take a couple more shots,” he replies smoothly, and Adam disappears once more to deal with his request.

“Good idea, I’m not sure I can deal with you sober,” I grunt, itching for another drink to calm my nerves, but the insufferable asshole only smirks.

“Trying to lower your inhibitions, huh? Sounds good to me,” he winks, and I scoff in outrage.

“You really are an arrogant, entitled asshole, aren’t you?” I huff with a shake of my head. “You just show up on your fucking white horse, ready to save the day with your giant piles of money, and probably laugh about all the problems you solve and the chaos you cause in your secret society of rich fellow assholes.”

Alexander listens to me rant in amusement, before he states, “Nah, I tried the whole secret society thing, it wasn’t really for me.”

Adam returns with our drinks, and I snatch one of the shots off the tray before he even places it down, knocking it back instantly, not even bothering with the salt or the lime. “I’m not even sure when you’re joking anymore,” I choke out, cringing at the harsh taste of liquor, but knowing right now I need it.

“First rule of secret societies is that we don’t joke about secret societies,” he claps back, slipping a hundred from his wallet and placing it on Adam’s tray before he leaves.

I watch the waiter retreat, before I turn my focus back to the bossy asshole in front of me and curse, “You’re insufferable and incredibly fucking annoying.”

Alexander leans back in the booth, spreading his wide frame out on the seat across from me, as he tips his head in my direction. “Keep going, you know it makes my dick hard when you talk to me like that, love,” he winks, sipping his water, and the blush that floods my body is instant.

It's something he does all the time, jokes about his attraction to me, except given the intensity of his stare, I’m not sure he is joking anymore, and given when he purchased the bar we are sitting in, I’m not sure he ever was.

Picking up the third shot, I knock it back like I did the first two, and all he does is watch my every move, like a predator stalking his prey. He told me he was worse than a heathen, a joke I scoffed at and laughed off at the time, but he was right, there isn’t a word to describe how dangerous he is. Which is funny, because I know he would never hurt me, but I’m starting to realize he has the power to destroy me more than anyone else has before. All of his moves have been careful and calculated, every joke executed to perfection, until my guard was down and he slid right past my defenses. A relentless and steady bond forged in his flirting, that I’m not sure I could now live without.

A heavy whoosh swirls through my stomach as we continue to stare at one another, and I don’t say anything as he signals for Adam to bring another round of shots. I remain silent and watchful, thinking back to how he joked with my mother in the cemetery, wondering what she would make of all this, what she would make of him.

What do I make of him?

I’ve sort of become used to his staggering good looks, given the time we have spent together, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t still blinding. That I don’t notice that he runs his hand through his hair when he gets nervous, that his icy blue eyes track everything around him all the time, that he is his most relaxed and carefree when he is around his housemates. And I’m not stupid, I notice how every girl's head turns when he walks into a room, how they watch and silently wait, hoping his attention will fall on them, but it never does. Like right now, his eyes are always on mine, and even though I was looking, I wasn’t really seeing, but now I think I see too much. Too much to wonder about, especially when I am sitting here under his watchful stare when I still belong to someone else.

As if he has direct access to my thoughts, Alexander swirls the liquid in his glass, as he asks, “So, no Ben today?”

His question is genuine, but just the way he says his name tells me exactly how he feels about my boyfriend, not that I can blame him.

“I called him, he didn’t answer,” I reply truthfully with a shrug, as Adam drops off four more shots, and I take the time to actually pour salt on my hand this time. I swear I hear Alexander groan as I lick it up from the back of my hand, but I ignore him and throw back the shot, followed by the lime. Knowing I don’t really want to talk about Ben, or the fact he completely forgot what day it is today, as did Malorie, I change the subject. “Have you ever had a girlfriend?” I dare to ask, and his smirk widens at my question.

“Why? Are you wondering about your competition, Trouble?” he asks, with a gleam in his eye, and when I remain silent, he shakes his head firmly. “No, Aubree, I’ve never had a girlfriend.”

The way he says my name has me knocking back another shot, grimacing once again at the taste, as I contemplate my next question. Alexander doesn’t look rushed as he takes out his phone and taps away for a couple of minutes quietly, before bringing his focus back to me. I can feel the warmth from the liquor spreading through my limbs and loosening some of the tension there, as I lean back in the booth and study him the same way he’s doing to me.

“Why?” I eventually ask, and his insufferable smirk returns, as if he knew the question was plaguing my mind the last few minutes.

“In high school I was too busy fucking to have a girlfriend,” he starts with a shrug, without an ounce of shame, and I try not to blush at his blunt answer, mildly wondering just how many people he is referring to. “Now it’s because I learned the hard way that most people only want me for my money, and well, those kinds of relationships don’t interest me,” he admits freely, and my heart aches for him a little in understanding.

What must it be like to have the whole world fall so freely at your feet?

I take another shot, as I think about my response. “But your net worth is probably the least interesting thing about you,” I state in confusion. “Like, what about the businesses you run, the charities you donate to, the knowledge in your brain, or how incredible you are on the ice,” I reel off, shaking my head in disbelief, as I think about all his closest friends being in relationships, and him being alone.

“Not to mention my wildly attractive good looks and princely charm,” he tosses back without missing a beat, and I scoff as I down the final shot with a grimace.

“Your ego needs its own zip code,” I tell him firmly, and he smiles with another wink, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“Trust me, that’s not the only thing, love.”

Once again I blush furiously, much to his amusement, but then we continue to talk back and forth a little more, and for once I answer his questions more freely than I would, given the gentle buzz of alcohol running through me. Especially after Adam delivered a few more shots at my request, except the next time I try to order some, Alexander tells him to bring me a pink lemonade instead.

Rolling my eyes at his bossiness, I slip out of the booth and stumble to the bathroom, pausing to splash some cold water on my face while I’m there, and when I return, the table is littered with food.

“What’s all this?” I ask, eying it hungrily, as I take in the mixture of chicken wings, loaded fries, mozzarella sticks, and cookie dough, and Alexander only shrugs.

“You needed something to soak up the alcohol,” he explains simply, as if that is enough to justify why all my favorite junk foods are now sitting on the table between us, and I try not to let the emotion burning at the back of my throat show as I slide back into the booth.

“Thank you, Alexander, for everything,” I whisper, only now starting to understand the extent of how good a friend he has been to me, and all he does is nod toward the food.

“Just eat,” he demands, and so I do.

I eat everything, some of the mozzarella sticks, the fries, even the cookie dough, saving the wings for last since it’s the messiest, and Alexander remains spread out across the booth watching my every move, like I am the most fascinating thing he has ever laid eyes on. We don’t talk, we just sit in silence and enjoy one another’s company, while I try to counteract all the liquor I poured down my throat.

Which means I note when his eyes darken a little, his fingers clenching around his glass, as his other hand drops to his lap and fidgets a little. “What?” I ask, licking my lips, and then quickly reaching up to see if I have food on my face or something, but his intensifying stare doesn’t relent.

“You really have no idea how fucking sexy you are, do you?” he asks, not a hint of amusement in his tone. Hell, there isn’t even a flirty undertone, just him stating what he clearly thinks is a fact, and I swallow thickly, as we stare at one another.

I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. All I can do is stare at him silently, his attention so searing I can feel it in every inch of my body, in a way I never have before. My eyes drop to his mouth, and the thoughts that rush to the forefront of my mind are so intense and filled with need, that they have me heaving myself out of the booth so fast I almost fall.

“We should head back, it’s getting late,” I rush out, dropping my stare to the floor, as I reach into my bag to pull out some money, but Alexander is at my side in an instant, with a gentle but firm hold on my arm.

“Pull money out of that bag and you’re going to piss me off more than your little pastor did,” he snaps, before turning and tossing far too many hundred dollar bills on the table, nodding his head at Adam in goodbye, as he guides me toward the exit.

The sun is low in the sky, and it stings my eyes a little as he helps me over to the car, holding the door open for me, only pulling back once I am safely inside, and he slams the door after me. When he gets in on his side, he doesn’t look at me as he pulls out into the late afternoon traffic, and I force my eyes out the window to track our surroundings, before I ruin everything.

That’s the last thing I remember before Alexander gently shakes my shoulder and murmurs, “Aubree, we’re home.” I startle awake a little and realize he’s right, we are back at my apartment, and he already has my car door open ready for me to get out.

I nod in thanks, grabbing my bag and climbing from the car, and like always, he walks me into the building and up the stairs with a gentle touch on my elbow. I check my messages on the way and find a couple from Evie, saying Alexander had messaged her that I needed privacy, and so she is staying at Jake’s house. Warmth once again spreads through my chest at how ridiculously thoughtful he is, and once we reach my apartment, I pull out my key to unlock the door.

Pushing it open, I move to turn and thank Alexander for today, only to freeze on the threshold of the room, as I take in the scene before me. My hands drop my bag to the floor, as I shakily walk inside, surveying every now-occupied surface, and I hear Alexander reach for my stuff, as he follows me into the apartment and closes the door.

My eyes slowly track every single vase in utter disbelief.

Daisies. Hundreds and hundreds of daisies.

My heart is in my throat, beating wildly, as I turn to Alexander and find him watching me carefully.

“Are you trying to impress me?” I force out on a whisper, wondering what this display of affection even means, and in typical Alexander fashion he rolls his eyes in response.

“Oh please, love, if I wanted to impress you, I’d show you my cock,” he gestures to all the flowers, and a white box on the table I hadn’t noticed. “This was just my attempt to cheer you up on a day like today,” he tells me genuinely, reaching to snatch one of the flowers from the vases, holding it out to me. “Daisies were her favorite, right?”

My breath catches in the back of my throat as his words wash over me.

He remembered my mom’s favorite flower.

I said it to him once my first week on campus and he remembered, just like he remembers everything else.

My heart starts to beat even faster in my chest, as I look at him, the real him, not the flirty playboy persona he offers to everyone else, but the kind and gentle soul who would do anything for the people he cares about, and without another thought in my mind, I erase the distance between us and slam my lips to his.

I kiss him, I kiss Alexander Reign, and the feel of his mouth against mine changes my brain chemistry. It’s soft at first, as my outburst startles him, but as soon as he registers what is happening, his hands are in my hair and he is tugging me against him. I’m no longer in control as he takes over the kiss like he might die without it, and his lips are firm against my own, before his tongue darts out and dares me to open for him. I do it without pause, not thinking of the repercussions, as I massage it with my own, and the groan he lets out is sinful.

The kiss is everything, intense, powerful, erotic, everything a good first kiss should be, so much so that I moan into his mouth, as I press myself deeper into him. I want more, need more, but it’s as if my moan alerts him to what we are doing, because he quickly rips his mouth away, staring at me wide eyed, panting heavily.

“I can’t do this, Aubree,” he grits out, as if the words physically pain him, and embarrassment floods my body.

What the fuck am I doing?

I drop my hands from where they were fisted in his shirt, and Alexander releases me and stumbles away, until his back is against my front door.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did that,” I start to say, but cut myself off because it’s a lie, I know why I did it, so does he.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize, it’s not that I don’t want to, because I really fucking do,” he huffs, swiping his hands over his face, and I can feel my cheeks burning, the taste of him still lingering on my lips. “But you have a boyfriend, and we can’t, I can’t,” he repeats firmly, and I wish I could focus on his words, on the truth of his statement, but instead my eyes track his hands, as he reaches down and readjusts himself.

His cock is hard and thick, and I can see the outline of it through his pants, and for the first time in my entire life I want to take off my purity ring and throw it into the fiery pits of hell until it burns until all that’s left is ash.

“I should go,” he grunts, pushing up off the door, and my eyes widen in panic.

“No, don’t go, not like this,” I rush out, my heart and my head screaming at one another as I try to scramble for something to say. “I don’t want to leave things like this and ruin what we have. I like you, Alexander, I enjoy spending time with you, and what you did today,” I trail off, because I don’t think he will ever realize what today meant to me, and tears burn at the back of my eyes at the thought of losing him.

“Come on now, Trouble, do you think I’d let something as pesky as a kiss keep me away from you, we’re friends right?” he asks, forcing out a smile, and it’s nothing like the ones he usually gives me, as if saying the word friends hurt him just as much as it did me. “This was just a temporary lapse in judgement,” he adds, and his tone makes my heart ache.

Is that how he sees himself? As a temporary lapse in judgement? As someone who isn’t truly worthy of someone's care and attention?

“You’re more than that to me,” I tell him softly, and my admission hangs in the air between us, until he nods just once.

“I better go, but there’s more mac and cheese in the fridge courtesy of Daemon, and there’s also cake and stuff, so please just enjoy the rest of your night,” he pleads, pushing off the door and moving back toward me, only to lean down and drop a gentle kiss into my hair. “I’ll see you tomorrow after the game, yeah?” he adds, and I nod, holding back my tears with a smile.

“Of course, I’ll be there front and center.”

We share one last look before he turns on his heel and moves to leave. He makes his way to the door, rips it open and stalks through it, only to pause on the threshold and turn back to me. “Aubree, don’t kiss me again unless you are ready to be mine,” he demands firmly, and before I can even swallow his words, or their meaning, he leaves, slamming the door behind him.

Fuck.

What the hell did I just do?