Chapter Six – A Dangerous Gift
1208 Words
The rain had been falling since morning, pattering against the glass walls of Alexander’s office like an endless whisper. Elena sat at her desk outside his door, typing up notes, when his deep voice called,
“Elena. Come in.”
She swallowed, smoothing her skirt before stepping inside. He was standing by the window, phone in hand, speaking curtly in French. His tone was sharp, commanding, but when he ended the call and turned to her, the edge softened.
“You look tired,” he observed.
She tried to laugh it off. “So do you. Maybe I’m just mirroring my boss.”
A faint smile tugged at his lips. He walked toward her, something hidden in his hand. “Perhaps. But even tired, you manage to look…” He trailed off, studying her as though searching for the right word. “… radiant.”
Her stomach tightened. “Alexander…”
He ignored the warning in her voice and held out a small, velvet box.
Elena froze. “What is this?”
“A gift.”
She blinked at it, panic flaring. “I—I can’t take that. Vivian—”
“She doesn’t need to know,” he interrupted smoothly. “This is between us.”
Her voice shook. “That’s exactly the problem.”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Elena, open it.”
Against her better judgment, her fingers reached out. The velvet was soft, the box surprisingly heavy. When she lifted the lid, her breath caught. Inside lay a delicate silver bracelet, thin as a whisper, with a single sapphire charm that gleamed like a captured drop of sky.
“It’s… beautiful,” she whispered.
“Then it’s yours.” His eyes never left her face. “It reminded me of you.”
Her heart pounded. “I can’t accept this. It’s too much. Vivian—”
“Vivian buys jewelry for her friends all the time,” he cut in, tone deliberate, steady. “If she saw you wearing it, she’d think nothing of it. The difference,” his voice dropped, “is that this isn’t just jewelry. It’s mine. For you.”
Elena’s throat went dry. She should have given it back, closed the box, walked away. But instead, she asked softly, “Why?”
For once, Alexander didn’t mask his answer. His gaze softened, voice low and raw. “Because I can’t stop thinking about you. And I don’t want to.”
Her pulse roared in her ears. The rain outside seemed to hush, as if even the world held its breath.
Then—
“Elena?”
Both of them froze. Vivian’s voice floated from the hallway. A second later, the door cracked open, and Vivian peeked in with her usual smile.
“There you are. Oh, Alexander, you’ve stolen my assistant again,” she teased, stepping inside.
Elena snapped the box shut behind her back, her cheeks flaming. “He was just—uh—going over the Montrose proposal with me.”
Vivian laughed lightly, sweeping across the room to kiss her husband on the cheek. “Always business. You’ll wear her out.”
Alexander’s hand brushed Elena’s as he took the papers from her — a deliberate, secret touch. His eyes flickered with amusement, as though daring her not to give them away.
Elena forced a smile at Vivian, her heart thundering, the bracelet burning in her palm.
Days later.
The Sinclair penthouse glowed with soft golden light as Vivian hosted one of her charity dinners. Crystal chandeliers shimmered, violins played in the background, and the air was thick with the perfume of roses and wealth. Elena stood at the edge of the crowd, balancing a tray of champagne flutes she’d been asked to help with.
She hated events like this — not because they weren’t beautiful, but because they made her feel like a ghost. She wasn’t quite a guest, but she wasn’t a servant either. She hovered in between, invisible.
“Elena.”
Her pulse spiked. Alexander had appeared at her side, tall and composed in his tailored tuxedo. His presence always drew eyes, but his gaze was fixed only on her.
“You shouldn’t be carrying trays,” he said quietly, taking the silver platter from her hands and setting it on a nearby table.
She blinked at him. “It’s fine. Vivian asked me to—”
“Vivian asks you to do too much,” he interrupted, his voice a low murmur. “You belong at my side, not serving drinks.”
Her breath caught. The words were innocent enough, but his tone wasn’t. It was possessive. Dangerous.
“Please,” she whispered, glancing around nervously. “Don’t say things like that here. People will notice.”
He leaned closer, his lips nearly brushing her ear. “They wouldn’t notice if you stopped blushing every time I looked at you.”
Her cheeks burned. She stepped back, desperate to create space, but it was too late. Vivian was approaching, radiant in a dark emerald gown.
“There you are,” Vivian said warmly, slipping her hand into Alexander’s arm. “I was wondering what kept you both.”
Alexander smiled easily, his mask flawless. “I was just reminding Elena that she should be enjoying the evening, not working.”
Vivian chuckled, giving Elena a fond look. “Oh, she insists on helping. She’s too good. Always giving, never taking. One day, Elena, I’ll teach you how to let others spoil you instead.”
Elena’s throat tightened. Vivian’s affection felt like sunlight, warming and suffocating all at once. If she knew what Elena felt for Alexander, that warmth would turn to fire.
Vivian was whisked away by another guest, leaving Elena and Alexander alone again.
“You see?” Elena whispered fiercely. “She trusts me. She trusts us. How can you stand there and—”
Alexander looked directly into her eyes and said, "Because I don't care about appearances..... I care about you."
Her heart hit her ribs hard. Her voice broke as she whispered, "Don't...... don't say things you can't take back."
His eyes were burning as he took a step closer. " Do you want me to them back?"
She stopped. Like a blade, the question hung between them. She ought to have said 'yes' and put an end to it, but the word wouldn’t leave her lips.
Instead, she whispered, “We can’t…”
But the tremor in her voice betrayed her.
Alexander exhaled slowly, almost in defeat, and pulled back. His expression shuttered, his mask sliding back into place. “Then I’ll respect your silence. But know this, Elena — I won’t pretend.”
Before she could reply, another guest called his name. He turned away, leaving her trembling in the golden light, her confession still trapped in her chest.
- Writer
