19 : The Unexpected Gesture
367 Words
The next morning, Amelia expected distance. After all, Alexander had pulled away last night, his walls still firmly intact.
But when she walked into the dining room, she froze.
The table—always set with cold efficiency—was different. Fresh lilies sat in a vase at the center, their fragrance delicate, filling the room. Beside her usual plate was a small dish of her favorite breakfast—blueberry pancakes, warm and golden.
She blinked. “What is this?”
Alexander, already seated, sipped his coffee as if nothing was out of the ordinary. “Breakfast.”
Her brows furrowed. “You don’t eat pancakes.”
“No,” he said simply. “But you do.”
The casual tone couldn’t hide the truth—it wasn’t the staff who had remembered. It was him.
Amelia sat down slowly, her heart thudding. “Did you… do this?”
His gray eyes flicked to hers, steady, unreadable. “I asked the chef to make what you like. I thought you deserved something after last night.”
Her chest tightened. It wasn’t just pancakes. It was acknowledgment. A silent admission that he saw her, that she mattered.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her throat thick.
Alexander didn’t respond, but his gaze lingered on her longer than usual, as if searching for something in her expression.
⸻
Later that day, as Amelia prepared to leave for a charity event, she found herself face-to-face with another surprise. A sleek black car idled outside the penthouse, and at its side stood Alexander himself.
“You’re coming with me?” she asked, startled.
His jaw flexed. “I won’t let Clara—or anyone else—make you a target again.”
Her lips parted. He wasn’t just assigning her bodyguards, as she’d expected. He was coming personally.
As they slid into the car together, the air between them charged, Amelia realized the truth: this wasn’t the cold, untouchable tycoon the world saw. This was Alexander Stone, a man who—despite every wall, every fear—was beginning to care in ways he couldn’t hide.
And for the first time, Amelia allowed herself to believe he might eventually let her in.
- Writer
