Chapter 18 Breakfast at Noon

I checked Alexander's temperature for what felt like the hundredth time. His forehead was still warm, but nowhere near the burning heat from last night. The fever reducer had done its job. I sat back in the armchair beside my bed, watching his chest rise and fall with each steady breath.

He'd been asleep for fifteen hours straight. Not surprising after the state he was in when I found him—soaked to the bone, feverish, and clearly exhausted from searching for me. Part of me was annoyed at his stubbornness, but another part—a part I wasn't quite ready to acknowledge—was touched by his dedication.

"You don't take care of yourself at all, do you?" I muttered, pushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "If your body gives out, who do you think is going to marry you then?"

I immediately regretted voicing that thought. Being around Alexander these past weeks had started to change something in me. He was attentive, considerate, and infuriatingly persistent. Just like David had been at the beginning.

Was I really going to let myself fall for him? After everything with David, I'd promised myself I wouldn't be fooled again by a few kind gestures.

A sharp knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. Three quick raps, a pause, then two more.

I slipped out of the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind me, and made my way to the living room.

"It's done, boss," James said with a slight nod.

"Efficient," I replied, collapsing onto the couch.

"Of course. Wouldn't want them trying to knock on your door again." He moved to the bar cart, pouring a finger of whiskey into a glass and handing it to me. "Those two won't be bothering you or anyone else ever again."

I accepted the glass, swirling the amber liquid before downing it in one swift motion. "Good."

James refilled my empty glass without being asked. "So, are you heading back to New York with him?" he nodded toward the bedroom.

"Not yet. I have business here."

James studied me for a moment, his eyes calculating. "Boss, can I ask you something personal?"

I raised an eyebrow but didn't object.

"Are you falling for him?"

The question hit me like a punch to the gut. "What kind of question is that?"

"It's just... I've never seen you look at anyone the way you look at him. Not even David."

I opened my mouth to deny it, but no words came out. How did I look at Alexander? I hadn't realized my feelings were so transparent.

"He doesn't know about your position here in Sicily, does he?" James continued.

Before I could answer, the bedroom door opened. Alexander emerged, his hair tousled from sleep, wearing the Oxford shirt and basketball shorts I'd given him. They hung loosely on his frame, making him look younger and more vulnerable than the corporate titan I'd first met.

James, ever observant, immediately recognized his cue to leave. "I'll check on the situation in Tyrrhenian Sea and report back," he said, heading for the door. "Good to see you looking better, Mr. Sterling."

Once James left, Alexander padded over to the couch and sat beside me. Without a word, he leaned in, resting his head against my shoulder and nuzzling into the crook of my neck.

"What are you doing?" I asked, though I made no move to push him away.

"Mmm," was his only response as he snuggled closer.

I let him stay there for a few minutes, surprised by how comfortable it felt. Finally, I asked, "Had enough?"

Alexander lifted his head, his eyes clearer than last night but still slightly glassy from fever. His arms remained around my waist. "Emma, will you forgive me?"

The vulnerability in his voice caught me off guard. I deflected. "Hungry?"

"Let me make you something," Alexander said quickly, extracting himself from our embrace. He headed to the kitchen before I could protest.

I followed him, leaning against the doorframe and watching as he busied himself gathering ingredients, moving through my kitchen as if he belonged there.

"When are you going back to New York?" I asked, observing him wash vegetables with practiced efficiency.

Alexander's hands stilled on the counter. He turned to face me. "Alone?"

I lifted my chin. "Yes. I have things to handle here in Sicily. I won't be returning right away."

"Then I'll wait for you," he said simply. "We can go back together."

"There's no bed for you here," I pointed out.

A smile tugged at his lips. "I don't care where I sleep. I'll take the floor, the couch, even stand if I have to."

I rolled my eyes. "I'll be here for at least a month, probably longer."

"You can go back to New York if you need to," I continued. "I'll return when I'm done."

Alexander shook his head. "Nothing's more important than you. The company can run without me for a while. Bill can handle anything urgent."

I leaned against the counter, studying him. "What if Sophia calls for you?"

"I've made myself perfectly clear to her," he said firmly. "If she continues to pursue me, I'll file a restraining order for harassment."

"She's still sick," I argued. "What if she threatens to hurt herself?"

Alexander sighed. "When Sophia left for Paris, she did it because she didn't want to burden me. I respected that and gave her all my savings to ensure she could live comfortably there. We're even. So Emma, please don't worry. This won't be a problem."

I wasn't convinced. "Why me?" I asked, the question that had been bothering me since the beginning. "We barely know each other."

"My relationship with Sophia is in the past," Alexander said, moving closer. "During those five years working alone, I learned to let go and focus on the present. And right now, I like you. I know we're going to fall more in love with each time."

I stared into his eyes, searching for any sign of deception, but found none. The raw honesty in his gaze made my heart race.

Alexander's voice grew softer. "So, can you forgive me, Emma? You have no idea how heartbroken I was when I saw those divorce papers."

I noticed a tear tracking down his cheek, though he seemed unaware of it. Something in my chest tightened at the sight.

I looked away, unable to hold his gaze any longer. "I'm hungry. Can you cook faster?"

Alexander's face broke into a genuine smile, clearly recognizing my words as the closest thing to forgiveness I could offer. "Yes, ma'am. One breakfast coming right up."

"It's noon," I said with a smirk.

"Brunch it is," he corrected himself, his smile never faltering as he continued preparing the meal.

---

After lunch, I decided to take advantage of the beautiful weather. "I'm going swimming in the complex pool," I announced.

"Wait for me, honey," Alexander called, hurrying after me.

I tossed my beach bag at him. "Make yourself useful."

He caught it with a grin, falling into step beside me.

As we walked toward the pool, Alexander asked, "How did you end up living here?"

"What's wrong with here?" I countered.

"Castello apartments," he said, gesturing around us. "This is where the heads of Sicily's most powerful mafia families live. Most people wouldn't dare come here uninvited, and even the police stay away."

"Guess I'm not most people," I replied with a shrug.

Alexander laughed. "I've heard they follow the 'family peace' principle here—no violence allowed within the building."

"Anyone who tries to cause trouble finds it hard to leave," I said, thinking about the men who had come looking for James. "Like those two from last night."

"I wasn't looking for trouble," Alexander said, his tone playful. "Will you let me leave, or am I your prisoner now? I wouldn't mind being 'captive' in your apartment."

I shot him a disgusted look. "Shut up."

He mimed zipping his lips, but his eyes still danced with amusement as we reached the pool area.