CHAPTER 7 An Invitation into His World
641 Words
Three days later, Emma’s phone rang just as she was curled up on the couch with a mug of tea. Seeing Alex’s name flash on the screen made her heart skip for reasons she refused to acknowledge.
She hesitated before answering, wondering what fresh form of arrogance he had prepared for today.
“Emma,” his deep voice came through, smooth but carrying that unshakable authority. “Be at my house in an hour. I’ll send the driver.”
She blinked. “Your house?”
“Don’t make me repeat myself.” Then the line went dead.
Emma stared at her phone, muttering to herself. “One of these days, Alex Donovan, your ego is going to explode and take the whole city with it.”
Still, an hour later, she found herself in the back seat of his sleek black car, the city fading behind her. As the vehicle wound through the private roads of an exclusive neighborhood, she could feel the shift in the air—quieter, more polished, as though even the trees here had money.
When the car finally stopped, Emma’s eyes widened. Alex’s home wasn’t just a house. It was a statement.
Tall, glass walls reflected the late afternoon light, making the place look like it belonged on the cover of an architecture magazine. A long stone driveway curved elegantly toward the front, lined with trimmed hedges and bursts of white roses. The building itself was modern but warm, with wooden accents breaking the clean lines of steel and glass.
Inside, the beauty was even more breathtaking. The living room opened up like a luxury hotel lobby, with high ceilings, a chandelier that sparkled like drops of frozen rain, and a sweeping staircase that looked like something out of a movie.
Floor-to-ceiling windows framed a view of the back garden, where a pool shimmered like liquid sapphire. Art lined the walls—pieces that probably cost more than her entire apartment building.
Emma couldn’t help but gape. “Do you live here… alone?”
Alex, who had been watching her with that unreadable gaze, smirked. “Why? Planning to invite friends over?”
She shot him a look, which only seemed to amuse him more.
“This is… strangely exciting,” she admitted reluctantly, her voice soft as she took in the perfection of the space. It wasn’t just the house—it was the way it felt like stepping into a completely different world, one far removed from her own.
Alex walked toward the bar at the corner of the living room and poured himself a drink, his movements slow and deliberate. “Good. You’ll have plenty of time to get used to it.”
Emma frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He turned to face her, leaning casually against the counter, glass in hand. “You’re moving in.”
Her mouth fell open. “Excuse me?”
“My family is coming over for dinner tomorrow,” he said as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. “They’ll be expecting to meet you here, not in that shoebox you call an apartment.”
Her pulse spiked. “I never agreed to this.”
Alex’s smirk softened into something more subtle, though his eyes stayed sharp. “You signed a contract, Emma. This is part of it. Besides—” he gestured around the vast, gleaming room, “—you’ll be more comfortable here.”
Comfortable. Right. If by “comfortable” he meant constantly on edge and unsure of what he’d do next.
Still, as she glanced around, a treacherous part of her admitted it wouldn’t be the worst place to stay. But living under the same roof as Alex Donovan? That was asking for trouble. The worst part was, she wasn’t entirely sure she didn’t want trouble.
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