Five

Eleanor

The day after the event, I woke up with a lingering heaviness I couldn’t shake. I replayed the moments from last night—the way Alexander’s hand brushed my back as he introduced me, his sharp gaze scanning the room to ensure everything was under control, and most of all, the way he’d looked at me when we were alone in the penthouse.

It was maddening.

I shouldn’t have been thinking about him this way. He wasn’t my husband, not really. This was a business arrangement, a facade, nothing more. But my body refused to listen to reason.

I got dressed and made my way to the kitchen, expecting to find Alexander already buried in his morning routine. Instead, the space was quiet and empty. A small note on the counter caught my attention.

Gone for a meeting. Breakfast is in the fridge. –A

The handwriting was sharp, precise, just like him. I set the note down and grabbed the plate he’d left for me. It was a small gesture, but I couldn’t help the way my chest tightened.

The hours dragged by, and by late afternoon, I was restless. Exploring the penthouse didn’t help—it was immaculate, soulless, and devoid of any personal touches. It was a stark contrast to Alexander’s commanding presence, and the more time I spent there, the more questions I had about him.

Who was Alexander Carter beyond the powerful CEO? Did he ever let his guard down?

I found myself in the study, running my fingers over the spines of books I doubted he’d ever read. The heavy silence of the room wrapped around me until the sound of the front door opening broke the stillness.

“Eleanor?” Alexander’s voice echoed through the penthouse.

“I’m in here,” I called out, brushing off the strange nervous energy that always accompanied his presence.

He appeared in the doorway moments later, still in his suit, though his tie was slightly loosened, and his jacket was slung over one arm. His eyes flicked to the bookshelves before landing on me.

“Making yourself comfortable?”

“Trying,” I said, crossing my arms. “Your place doesn’t exactly scream ‘home.’”

A shadow of a smile tugged at his lips. “It’s not meant to.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Then what is it meant to be?”

“Efficient.”

The way he said it was so matter-of-fact, so unapologetically him, that I couldn’t help but laugh softly.

“Something funny?” he asked, stepping closer.

“No, it’s just... you’re so predictable. Everything about you is calculated. Do you ever do anything just because you feel like it?”

His expression darkened slightly, though not in anger. It was as if I’d touched on something he wasn’t ready to address.

“I don’t have the luxury of acting on impulse,” he said finally, his voice quieter than usual.

“That’s... sad,” I said without thinking.

His eyes narrowed, and the tension in the room shifted. He stepped even closer, his towering frame suddenly overwhelming.

“Sad?” he repeated, his tone softer now, almost dangerous.

I swallowed hard, refusing to back down. “Yes. You have all of this—money, power, success—and yet you’re so... alone.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might walk away. But instead, he closed the distance between us, stopping just inches away.

“You think you know me, Eleanor?” he murmured, his voice low and rough.

“I think there’s more to you than what you let people see,” I said, my heart pounding as his eyes locked onto mine.

The air between us grew heavier, the charged silence stretching until it became almost unbearable. He raised a hand, and for a brief moment, I thought he might touch me. Instead, his fingers brushed the edge of the bookshelf behind me, trapping me in place.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Maybe,” I replied, my voice shaking despite my best efforts.

The intensity in his gaze deepened, and I felt my breath hitch as he leaned in, his face so close that I could feel the warmth radiating from his skin.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, his voice rough and commanding.

I couldn’t. I should have, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I stayed frozen, every nerve in my body alive and screaming at the proximity between us.

When his lips finally brushed mine, it was hesitant at first, almost as if he was waiting for me to pull away. But I didn’t.

The kiss deepened, and whatever tension had been building between us over the past days erupted all at once. His hands moved to my waist, pulling me closer, and my own hands found their way to his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt.

For a moment, I let myself get lost in it—the heat, the intensity, the way his touch seemed to erase every doubt and fear I’d been holding onto.

But then reality came crashing back.

I pulled away abruptly, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath. “This... this wasn’t part of the agreement.”

Alexander’s expression was unreadable, but there was something vulnerable in his eyes, something I hadn’t seen before.

“No, it wasn’t,” he admitted, stepping back and running a hand through his hair.

“I can’t—” I started, but he cut me off.

“I know,” he said quickly, his voice soft but firm. “It won’t happen again.”

The certainty in his tone felt like a slap, and I hated the way it made my chest ache.

“Good,” I said, though my voice was barely above a whisper.

He nodded once, then turned and left the room without another word.

I stood there for what felt like an eternity, my thoughts a tangled mess. What had just happened? And why, despite everything, did I feel like I was teetering on the edge of something I couldn’t control?

Alexander Carter was a man who thrived on control, and yet, for one fleeting moment, he’d let it slip.

And that terrified me almost as much as the fact that I had wanted him to.