Chapter 14 When The Past Knocks

I couldn't stop grinning as Alexander drove us home from my family's mansion. The tense atmosphere from earlier had completely dissipated, replaced by the sweet taste of victory.

"That was brilliant," I said, nudging his shoulder playfully. "Three years! For three whole years, Dad and Uncle Victor will have to work their asses off trying to outperform each other."

Alexander's lips curved into subtle smile. "It seemed like the most logical solution."

"Logical and devious," I laughed. "They'll be killing themselves to bring in profits, because whoever performs worse gets stuck managing North Enterprises permanently while the other walks free. That's some next-level corporate torture."

"I prefer to think of it as motivation," Alexander replied, his eyes focused on the road as we pulled into our neighborhood.

"God, I wish I could be a fly on the wall in those board meetings," I said, picturing the scene. "Dad's going to be pulling all-nighters running numbers, and Uncle Victor will probably cancel all his vacations for the next three years. It's going to be pure chaos."

By nine o'clock, we were home. The familiar sight of our mansion was becoming strangely comforting. My stomach growled embarrassingly loud as we stepped into the foyer, the sound echoing against the marble floors.

"Hungry?" Alexander asked, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Starving. That whole family drama made me miss dinner." I pressed a hand against my protesting stomach.

"Go change. I'll make you something delicious," he said, heading toward the kitchen.

I raised an eyebrow. "You cook?"

"There are many things you don't know about me yet, Mrs. Sterling." The way he said my new surname sent an unexpected shiver down my spine.

Twenty minutes later, I was gliding through the crystal-clear water of our Olympic-sized backyard pool, my red swimsuit a stark contrast against the blue. Swimming always cleared my head, washing away the day's stress with each stroke. The underwater lights cast an ethereal glow across the surface, and for a moment, I felt completely at peace.

After a few laps, I climbed out, wrapped myself in a fluffy bathrobe, and padded barefoot to the dining room.

The smell hit me first—garlic, herbs, and something rich and savory. Alexander had set the table with candles and was placing steaming plates of pasta, seared scallops, and roasted vegetables on the table. The soft lighting caught the angles of his face, highlighting his jawline as he concentrated on arranging everything perfectly.

"Holy shit," I said, genuinely impressed. "Where did you learn to cook like this?"

"Megan told me these were your favorites," he replied, pulling out my chair. "She's quite invested in me 'capturing your heart,' as she puts it."

I snorted but couldn't hide my smile as I sat down. "Well, food is definitely the way to go. My heart and stomach are closely connected."

"I'll remember that," he said, his voice low and intimate as he took his seat across from me.

I attacked my plate with enthusiasm, practically inhaling the first few bites before slowing down to actually taste the food. It was incredible—the pasta perfectly al dente, the scallops seared to perfection, the vegetables crisp-tender with just the right amount of seasoning.

"This is amazing," I mumbled around a mouthful, then let out a satisfied burp when I finally finished.

Alexander watched me with an amused expression, reaching across the table to wipe a spot of sauce from the corner of my mouth with his thumb. His touch lingered, our eyes locked, and something electric passed between us.

Without a word, he moved to my side of the table, gently tugging at the belt of my bathrobe. The sash came undone with surprising ease, and he slowly pushed one side of the robe off my shoulder, revealing the strap of my red swimsuit and the curve of my breast.

My breath caught as his fingers traced my collarbone, down to the swell of my chest. I reached up to unbutton his shirt, my fingers dancing across his taut abdomen as I revealed more of his skin. His muscles flexed involuntarily under my touch, and I felt a surge of satisfaction at his reaction.

In one fluid motion, Alexander lifted me onto the dining table, pushing aside the dishes. My bathrobe fell away completely as his hands found my back, pulling me against his chest. Our lips met in a hungry kiss, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, losing myself in the moment. His skin was hot against mine, and I could feel his heart racing beneath my palm.

Then came the doorbell.

"Ignore it," I whispered against his lips, my fingers tangling in his hair.

The doorbell rang again, more insistent this time, followed by knocking.

Alexander sighed, resting his forehead against mine before reluctantly pulling away to check the security monitor. His entire body went rigid when he saw who was outside.

"Who is it?" I asked, pulling my bathrobe back on.

"Sophia Rossi," he said quietly. "My ex-girlfriend."

A woman's voice came through the intercom: "Alex, I'm back. Can you let me in?" Her voice was soft and melodic, with a slight Italian accent.

I looked at Alexander, waiting for his response. His jaw was tight, but his eyes were unreadable. I felt a strange twinge in my chest—not quite jealousy, but something close to it.

"It's late. We should get some rest," he said finally, turning away from the monitor.

Seeing his reluctance, I decided to handle it myself. I pressed the intercom button. "Miss, it's pretty late. Maybe come back in the morning?"

There was a pause before she responded, her voice sharp with surprise. "Who are you?"

"I live here with Alexander," I answered simply.

"You're lying," she said, her voice rising. "I've known Alex since we were children. I know what kind of person he is. Don't ruin his reputation. Let me speak to Alex."

I couldn't help myself. "Actually, we're married. We were just about to have sex when you interrupted us."

A high-pitched scream came through the speaker, followed by a thud.

Alexander rushed to the door, yanking it open. A beautiful woman with dark hair was lying on our doorstep, her body convulsing violently.

"Sophia!" Alexander dropped to his knees beside her, panic in his voice.

"It looks like a seizure," I said, kneeling on her other side. "We need to make sure she doesn't hurt herself."

Working together, we rolled her onto her side. I cushioned her head while Alexander moved anything dangerous away from her thrashing limbs. Gradually, her convulsions subsided, and she fell into what seemed like an exhausted sleep.

Alexander carried her to a guest room on the third floor while I called her parents, explaining the situation as calmly as I could. The panic in Mrs. Rossi's voice made me feel guilty about my earlier comment.

As we waited for them to arrive, Alexander sat heavily on the edge of the bed in the guest room, watching Sophia's pale face with concern.

"We were childhood friends in New York," he explained quietly. "We went to college together in Italy. Five years ago, she suddenly told me she wanted to pursue her dance dreams in Paris. She said not to wait for her and broke up with me."

"You still have feelings for her," I stated, not a question.

Alexander ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know."

"We've known each other less than a month," I said, keeping my voice even. "You and Sophia grew up together. Even though we're married now, we don't have that kind of deep connection yet."

"Married is married," Alexander said firmly. "I told you I would be responsible for you and faithful to you."

"Maybe it was fate." I countered.

Before he could respond, we heard Sophia mumble in her sleep. "Alex... Alex... don't leave me..."

I glanced at Alexander as he moved to adjust her blanket, his movements gentle and practiced. A pang of something I refused to identify shot through me.

The doorbell rang again—her parents had arrived.