by Geneva Lee
I struggled for something to say to break the ice, but it was no use. The nerves that Alexander had managed to vanquish returned with paralyzing intensity. Just as the moment grew painfully uncomfortable, he stepped forward and opened the door, gesturing for us to enter.
“Ladies first.” He flourished his arm across the threshold, and I bounded inside, grateful for his diplomacy.
“Ohh. A gentleman,” Lola cooed, following me through the door. She eyed him as she passed, not bothering to hide her calculating look. As always, she was the cool one—self-possessed and in platform sandals that made her nearly his height. The few people waiting near the entrance watched her as she strode confidently forward to the maître d’ to give our name.
“She seems like a…handful,” Alexander whispered as we were guided to the second floor’s private dining room.
“Mmhmm.” That was the nicest possible way to describe my sister. Lola was a force to be reckoned with most days. I could only hope today wasn’t one of them.
But luck hadn’t really been on my side lately.

By the second round of cocktails, conversation had slowed to a halt among our small group. Mom had insisted on waiting for my father before ordering, and he was over an hour late. The dining room, which had been decorated with a staggering number of clocks, attested to the fact. I sipped my Bloody Mary, hoping that getting tipsy might pass the time, but dozens of second hands ticked at the same rate all around me. Any other evening, I would have found the eclectic, if somewhat quirky, decor charming. Tonight it only accentuated the nausea churning in my stomach.
“I don’t know what could be keeping him,” Mom said, apologizing again and checking her phone.
“I’m in no hurry,” Alexander said serenely, but the hand stroking up my thigh told a different story. He definitely had other things on his mind.
“We should order,” I said as the clocks around us struck eight. My fatigue, coupled with low blood sugar, was wearing through my already fragile patience.
“Let’s give him a few more minutes,” Lola suggested, sipping her cocktail. “Tell us how you two met.”
“Pick up the Daily Star,” I snapped, unable to contain my ill mood any longer.
Lola gave me a reproachful look, her red lips pursed over her drink. She looked exactly like my mother as she did it. “I want to hear it from the source.”
I opened my mouth to tell her off again, but Alexander stopped me.
“I was stuck at another boring party, trying to hide out,” he said, “and then this beautiful girl showed up and started telling me off.” His hand caught mine and raised it to his lips, but I caught his cocky grin before he kissed my knuckles.
My mother’s eyes widened, a small gasp escaping her lips. Sometimes I wondered where the ambitious, bohemian feminist I’d seen in pictures had disappeared to. Mom had attended Berkley. She’d fought to get a fledgling company off the ground. Now she thought a woman approaching a man was scandalous. If she thought that was shocking, I could only hope Lola would keep what she’d overhead between Alexander and me secret.
“Clara!” she said, scolding me as she had when I was a little girl.
Alexander chuckled and set his drink on the table. “No, I deserved it.”
“So why did you kiss her?” Lola burst out.
“Now that is a long story,” he said, his grin on glorious display now, “and seeing as it didn’t make the papers, I’m going to keep it to myself. But I will tell you that I spent the rest of the day trying to find out who your sister was. She kept a low profile at Oxford.”
My mother sighed at this. “She’s not very social. I did my best, but sometimes nature has other plans.”
“I find her company intoxicating,” Alexander said in the low voice he usually reserved for whispering indecent thoughts in my ear. “I want her all to myself anyway.”
Mom’s eyes flashed to mine, gauging my reaction, and I tried to look nonchalant, turning my attention back to my drink. She had her concerns about my relationship with Alexander, but that wouldn’t stop her from jumping to conclusions.
“Aren’t you coy?” Lola murmured. She regarded him for a moment, as though he’d issued a challenge.
Alexander dismissed the comment with a shrug, waving to the waiter peeking in at the door. No doubt the poor server was beginning to question if we’d ever place our orders.
“Are you ready?” the man asked. His eyes darted around the group, but I couldn’t help noticing that he skipped over Alexander as though he was intimidated.
I couldn’t imagine having that effect on people. It was hard enough to be scrutinized by the public. Something I’d recently learned myself. How much worse was it to have people fear you? Alexander didn’t seem fazed by that kind of attention though. He didn’t even notice it as far as I could tell. Of course, that was part of what made him so formidable: how he carried his power with such candor. It wasn’t an affectation or a show. It was his birthright.
“Can you bring us this evening’s appetizers?” Alexander asked. “We have another guest coming, but I can’t allow these ladies to wait any longer.”
I thanked him quietly, grateful that he had been the one to defy my mother’s dinner gag order. Alexander leaned over and kissed me. The soft brush of his lips was tender and protective—a reminder that he considered it his job to watch out for me. My eyes closed instinctively, waiting for more, and my mother cleared her throat.
“I read up a little on your company, Mrs. Bishop,” Alexander said, changing the topic quickly.
“Former company,” Mom said. “Let’s not talk business.”
“She gets enough of that from Dad,” I explained.
“That’s true,” she said with a rueful smile. “At least, it used to be.”
The offhand comment struck me as odd. My mother had always been supportive of Dad’s start-ups and ideas, even though none had proven as successful as the dating site they’d sold during the internet boom. But now the pride that usually accompanied business inquiries was markedly absent, replaced by an indifferent tone that was laced with bitterness. I checked the clocks again, wondering where my dad was this late. Something was going on with my parents. I couldn’t put my finger on what exactly, but things were off.
Lola leaned forward eagerly, more than willing to fill the awkward silence. “Tell us about growing up in a palace!”
“Don’t they have books devoted to that?” Alexander asked.
“They do,” she admitted, “but I hear that the reality is quite different. Although I am a sucker for happily-ever-afters.”
Her eyes flickered to mine, and I sucked in a steadying breath, keeping my face blank. She had heard Alexander’s and my conversation, and I was going to pay for that later. For now, I tittered with forced laughter.
“It’s not as exciting as it sounds.” Either he hadn’t picked up on her none-too-subtle hint that she’d been eavesdropping earlier or the man knew how to bluff.
“Bollocks!” she cried. “I bet you’ve been all over the world and that you grew up riding horses and hunting foxes.”
Alexander’s mouth curved up, his eyes growing distant with memory. It was obvious that Lola had hit upon something. “I suppose I did. It’s rather boring really. Dinners with foreign dignitaries. Riding lessons. Although I’ve never enjoyed hunting.”
“I’m a member of PETA,” she informed him. “I don’t approve of hunting.”
I scowled at this tidbit. Evidently her concern over animal welfare didn’t extend to her leather shoes and handbag.
“Unfortunately, it’s a tradition in our family. I’m not particularly interested in it either.” He paused, and this time when his eyes glazed with memories, he laughed. “Actually, when I was eight my father told me I was going on the hunt for the first time. I was incredibly excited. I’d had riding lessons before then, but I’d never been allowed to go with the men.”
It was the first time he’d spoken of his family and
childhood with such lightness, and I listened with rapt attention. Alexander’s past was a heavy burden on him, so to see him smile over a memory made my heart burst. I couldn’t help but wonder what might be different if he hadn’t endured so much tragedy and loss early in life.
“I couldn’t sleep the night before,” he continued, “so I crept to the stables to brush my Arabian in preparation. Anyway, I’m in there with my horse and I see this red fox locked in a cage. I couldn’t believe it. The second I saw him, I remembered all the hunts I’d watched begin at my family estates, and I realized we were going to hunt him.”
We were all silent, hanging off his every word as he added, “So I did what any eight-year-old kid would do, I hid him.”
“Oh my god!” Lola exclaimed, fluttering her lashes. “Where did you put him?”
“I didn’t really think it through,” Alexander explained with an uncharacteristically sheepish smile, “so I took him to my bedroom.”
“I bet your parents loved that,” my mom said dryly.
Alexander paused, a pained look flashing over his features. It vanished nearly as quickly as it had appeared. Only one of his parents would have been present for his act of vigilance, and I could imagine his father had found it less than amusing. “My mother,” he said slowly, “would have, I think, but my father did not. In fairness though, I did make one, tiny mistake when I brought him inside.”
“Which was?” Lola prompted. She was swept up in the story, making her look much younger than her age. Apparently the X effect extended outside the bedroom.
“My sister let him out of the cage,” Alexander confessed, spreading his hands innocently. “It took the staff two days to trap him, but the hunt was cancelled!”
“So you were the hero,” I said.
“That’s one way of looking at it.” He shrugged and sat back in his seat again. “I doubt the staff thought so.”
We laughed at this, and I drank in Alexander’s full-bodied laughter. It was the first time he’d mentioned his sister Sarah casually, and I wondered if he’d even realized he had done so. He’d made it clear that she was off-limits, implying it would only cause him more pain if I pushed him to speak of her. But was avoiding her memory helping? It seemed a shame for him to forget the happier moments the two shared.
The arrival of my father delivered Alexander from having to entertain us further, and a glowing warmth settled over me as I watched the two shake hands and exchange introductions. But one glance at my mother’s face immediately dampened the mood.
“Again, I am sorry,” Dad said, taking a seat beside my mother. “Have you been waiting for me? You should have ordered!”
“I called you,” she said frostily, not bothering to disguise the recrimination in her voice.
“I got caught up at the office,” he explained. “We get such terrible mobile service there, but I should have found a phone and called you.”
My mother didn’t reply, even as her posture stiffened. My stomach flipped over at her obvious resistance to my father’s apologies.
For once, it didn’t seem like my mother was being delicate. It felt like she was being strong.

The strange behavior of my parents occupied my thoughts as we rode back to my flat in the Rolls Royce. Dinner had gone off without incident, but her aloof attitude had lingered throughout the evening. Mom had said something offhand about Dad’s work last week on our lunch date, but I’d dismissed it. Now it had reared its vicious teeth again, and I had to figure out what to do about it.
My father had been obsessed with investing in new start-ups. He had stock in dozens of companies, but nothing had fulfilled his desire to build something of his own. He’d sold partner.com because we needed the money, but also because he expected to build another successful company. Nearly twenty years of investments and ideas later, his only claim to fame was the still popular dating site. Mom had encouraged him, so what had changed? I wasn’t imagining the rift between them.
“Clara?” Alexander said. His hand slid between my legs as if to coax me from my thoughts.
Tonight was supposed to be about us—our relationship—and I’d spent the evening analyzing what was going on with my parents. Maybe I was avoiding the obvious. Alexander and I had our own issues to deal with. It was a lot easier to worry about someone else’s marriage.
“Sorry, X.” Swinging my legs up, I crawled into his lap.
“Something’s on your mind.” He didn’t ask me to share, and the message was clear: no pressure.
It was unlikely he could help me figure out what was going on with my parents, but I appreciated that he was here. “I was thinking about my parents. They barely spoke to one another.”
“And that’s not usually the case?”
I shook my head. I couldn’t quite articulate what was bugging me. “My mom tends to be a little high maintenance. She was definitely giving my dad the cold shoulder.”
I shrugged it off and wrapped my arms around Alexander’s neck. I’d been so preoccupied with my parents that I’d almost forgotten that I had him all alone. Shifting, I straddled him, brushing my body across his in invitation. The contact stirred my blood, sending it to pool in my core.
Alexander traced the line of my décolletage with his index finger, and my breasts swelled under his touch. My nipples tightened to beads, anticipating his attention, and I rocked against him as desire engulfed my senses. He caught the nape of my neck and pulled me forward, his mouth slanting over mine as he captured my lips. His breath was hot, laced with a lingering tinge of liquor, and I licked across his teeth, savoring the taste of him.
“I owe you sexual favors,” I purred, my hands going to his belt buckle to free his thick erection.
Alexander groaned, his hands sliding to cup my jaw as he held my lips to his in a languid kiss that left me breathless when he broke away.
“Come to the country with me this weekend,” he breathed.
Time alone with him, outside London and its shameless paparazzi? “Do you even have to ask?”
“I’m not asking,” he said, a smile playing at his lips. “I already told them you would be there.”
I froze. “Them?”
“My family.”
“You want me to spend a weekend in the country with your family?” I asked.
“There will be some friends there as well. Edward has invited a group.”
If that was meant to reassure me, it failed miserably. “X—” I began.
“You said anything,” he reminded me. “I said that I wasn’t asking. I expect you to be there with me.”
“Don’t you want to spend some private time with them?” That was a reach, and I knew it.
Alexander cocked an eyebrow, aware that I was getting desperate for excuses. “The only person I want private time with is you. Three days apart is too long. I need to know you’re being taken care of.”
“I can take care of myself,” I reminded him.
“You can get dressed.” His hands dropped to my hips and skimmed lightly down them. “You can eat and drink and sleep, but you won’t have everything you need.” Alexander rolled his hips against my groin. My sex clenched as his erection ground into me.
“You raise a good point,” I panted, running my tongue over my lips.
“Do I?” he asked, his words raspy as he continued to circle under me.
“Mmhmm,” I moaned, losing myself to the lurid motion of his hips. “You owe me.”
“I thought you owed me sexual favors,” he said, a devilish smile coming over his face.
“I promised that before I found out I’d be dealing with your family for a whole weekend. Let’s call it a draw, X, or you’ll be repaying me for a long time.” But as desire pooled between my legs, thrumming through my clit, I knew it was a lost cause.
“Oh, poppet.” His mouth cruised leisurely across my collarbone as his hands strayed under my skirt. “I am more than happy to be in your debt.”
He hooked his thumbs over
the band of my thong and tore it cleanly from my trembling sex.
“You know there are finite resources in the world. You might spare a few pairs of panties.”
Alexander flipped me onto the seat, moving between my spread thighs. “I’d love to hear more about your panties,” he said with a smirk, “later.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
The country house was actually a sprawling forty-room estate nestled over one hundred acres of private land. I’d been to mansions before, but Norfolk Hall surpassed them. It belonged to an entirely different time and place. Spires stretched to the sky, and the facade had been painstakingly refurbished to approximate the sixteenth century original brick. There was a stable and tennis courts on the grounds. Inside, marble floors, priceless art and polished mahogany bannisters perfected the imposing manner. I felt like I’d been invited to stay in a museum. It was too much to absorb at once, and that wasn’t just due to the estate.
I’d dreaded the idea of dealing with his father over the weekend. The King hadn’t bothered to hide his feelings regarding our relationship. When we arrived, I discovered it was so much worse than an awkward family gathering. Alexander’s family was here, along with over a dozen of their friends. I’d met a few of them at the ball, and I hadn’t been eager to see them again.
Particularly Pepper, who watched with distaste as Edward made the introductions to a number of older family members present for tomorrow’s hunt.
This weekend was turning out to be exactly what I’d hoped to avoid. Stupidly, I’d believed I might get a chance to speak with Alexander’s father in private. I thought maybe if he got to know me, he might reverse his opinion of my relationship with his son. But I couldn’t see how that was going to happen with this many people around.
We’d arrived so late that dinner had been served already, and by the time I got to my room, my stomach was grumbling. Grabbing a protein bar from my bag, I took a look around. I had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that my room was spectacular. Complete with a four-poster bed and a sweeping vista of the English countryside, the only thing it was missing was Alexander, who had been placed in his own bedroom across the estate.