Chapter 6
919 Words
Elena wasn’t sure which part of the last twenty-four hours was more surreal — the heated glimpse of Alexander’s vulnerability, or the fact that she was now boarding his private jet as his “assistant.”
“This is insane,” she muttered under her breath as she climbed the sleek staircase. The jet gleamed under the late afternoon sun, all white leather seats and polished wood. It was a far cry from the crowded buses she usually took across the city.
Alexander followed behind her, sunglasses shielding his eyes, his presence as commanding as ever. “Insane,” he said evenly, “is trying to negotiate a deal with Marcus Valenti without backup. You’ll take notes. Nothing more.”
“Right,” Elena replied, though her pulse quickened. Being this close to him after what he’d confessed yesterday felt dangerous — like standing too close to a flame she swore she wouldn’t touch.
They settled into their seats. The jet lifted, the city shrinking below them. For the first half hour, Elena buried herself in a file folder, determined not to think about the warmth of Alexander’s arm brushing hers every time he shifted.
But fate — or mischief — had other plans.
“So,” a smooth voice drawled as a man approached once they landed at the island resort. Tall, immaculately dressed, with a wolfish smile. “This must be the new companion.”
Elena blinked, realizing this was Marcus Valenti — the very investor Alexander had come to charm. His gaze swept over her with practiced arrogance, and heat rose in her cheeks.
Alexander’s eyes went icy. “She’s my assistant,” he said, voice sharp as steel.
“Of course,” Marcus said, clearly amused. “And a lovely one at that.”
Elena stiffened, but before she could respond, Alexander’s hand found the small of her back, guiding her firmly away. The gesture was protective, yes, but also possessive.
When they were out of earshot, Elena hissed, “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I did,” Alexander said, jaw tight. “Men like Valenti don’t respect boundaries unless they’re drawn in blood.”
The intensity in his voice left no room for argument. Still, Elena’s heart hammered as she realized how much he had wanted to shield her.
Dinner that night was a dazzling affair — glittering lights strung across palm trees, the ocean whispering just beyond the terrace. Alexander handled Valenti with ruthless precision, cutting through negotiations like a master swordsman. Elena watched him, both awed and unsettled by his control.
But when Valenti leaned too close again, making another sly remark about her beauty, Alexander’s patience snapped.
“Enough,” he said coldly. “She’s not part of this discussion. Respect that, or our deal ends here.”
The silence that followed was electric. Valenti raised his hands in mock surrender, but Elena caught the flicker of fury in his eyes.
Later, back at the villa Alexander had rented, Elena paced the balcony, the night air warm against her skin. She was furious — at Valenti, at herself for caring, at Alexander most of all.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” she said when Alexander appeared behind her, his tie loosened, his shirt collar open.
He leaned against the railing, watching her with those storm-dark eyes. “I protected you.”
“I didn’t need protecting.”
His gaze sharpened. “Yes, you did. You don’t understand the circles I move in, Elena. People like Valenti would eat you alive.”
Her breath hitched. “And what about you? Should I be afraid of you too?”
The silence stretched, thick with something unspoken. Then Alexander stepped closer, the heat of his body closing in around her.
“Yes,” he murmured. “You should.”
Her heart thundered. She should have pulled back, should have reminded herself of every reason this was wrong. But when his hand lifted to brush a stray strand of hair from her cheek, her body betrayed her.
The touch was gentle, almost reverent. “Alexander…”
And then his mouth was on hers.
The kiss was nothing like she expected. It wasn’t calculated or cool — it was hungry, raw, as though he’d been fighting it for far too long. Elena melted into him, her hands gripping his shirt, the taste of him dizzying.
He pulled her closer, his arm firm around her waist, their bodies colliding with a heat that stole her breath. Every warning she’d whispered to herself shattered. There was only him, his lips devouring hers, his heartbeat pounding against her chest.
When they finally broke apart, both breathless, Alexander’s eyes blazed with conflict.
“This can’t happen,” he said hoarsely. “I told you, I can’t give you what you want.”
Her throat tightened. “And what is it you think I want?”
His gaze softened, almost pained. “More than I can give. More than I’m allowed to give.”
For a moment, neither of them moved, the night heavy with unsaid words. Then Alexander stepped back, his walls rising again.
“Get some sleep,” he said, voice clipped. “We have another meeting tomorrow.”
Elena watched him retreat into the villa, her lips still tingling, her heart torn in two.
She should have felt ashamed. She should have been angry. Instead, she knew the truth she couldn’t escape.
She was falling for him. And there was no turning back.
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