Evelyn
My head was throbbing.
Something hard and warm was under my cheek. I shifted slightly, squinting against the morning light,
My eyes flew open. I was lying on Alexander's bare chest. What. The. Hell.
I jerked back and the sudden movement made my head spin. The pain pulsed behind my eyes like a warning siren. I blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of it.
Why is he in my bed?
Why is he shirtless?
Why am I only wearing a bathrobe?
Panic bubbled up in my throat. I clutched the robe tighter around myself,
Then he stirred beneath me.
His eyes opened slowly, unfazed as if waking up like this was completely normal.
" what are you doing here?" I whispered, "Why are you shirtless? And why am I like this?"
He looked at me for a second, eyes steady.
Then he said, "You really don't remember?"
My lips parted, but nothing came out. I could only stare at him.
He leaned back against the headboard, his gaze still fixed on me.
"You probably shouldn't ask those questions not after everything you did yesterday."
My heart sank.
Oh no. what did I do?
My stomach twisted.
What if ? No. No, no, no.
I hesitated, then slowly lifted the edge of the blanket and peeked underneath.
Still the bathrobe.
Tightly knotted. Nothing missing. Skin untouched.
I exhaled in deep relief and fell back against the pillow.
Okay. So I didn't.
"You were checking," Alexander's amused voice cut through the silence,
I turned my head slowly to look at him.
He had that look on his face. The one where his mouth was straight but his eyes were laughing.
"I wasn't " I began, flushing instantly.
He raised an eyebrow. "You were definitely checking."
"I was not! I was just making sure I was decent," I said, tripping over my own words.
He tilted his head, "Right. Because you didn't climb into my lap last night, accused me of hating you, then fall asleep holding me after starting a very dramatic monologue about ice cream and loneliness."
My face burned hotter. "You're making that up."
"I wish I was." He smirked. "It was unforgettable."
I pulled the blanket over my head and groaned. Kill me now.
He chuckled softly beside me.
but at least he didn't leave.
Not last night and not this morning.
I stayed under the blanket, wishing I could disappear into the mattress.
"Are you planning to live under there now?" Alexander asked,
I didn't answer.
Silence was safer.
"I mean," he continued, "if you are, I'll have to get room service delivered under the blanket. Hope you like crumbs in the sheets."
Still nothing.
He chuckled again. "So, just to be clear you really thought I'd take advantage of you like that?"
That made me peek out from the edge of the blanket, only to glare at him with narrowed eyes. "I didn't think anything. I was just making sure."
"Mmm." He leaned back against the headboard, arms crossed behind his head. Smug. Relaxed. Shirtless.
"I didn't touch you," he said, his tone shifting gentler, "I just made sure you didn't trip and crack your head open in the bathroom. You did most of the chaos on your own."
"I hate you," I mumbled, pulling the blanket back over my head.
He laughed "You told me you hated me last night too. Right after you cried about not getting strawberry ice cream fast enough."
I squeezed my eyes shut.
Please let this be a dream.
Alexander
She stayed under the blanket for a long time.
I didn't push her.
Every so often, I glanced her way while catching up on the work I hadn't touched since yesterday. My laptop sat open at the small desk across the room, half-finished emails blinking back at me. I typed, answered calls, but my eyes kept drifting back to the bed.
She didn't move much—just shifted now and then under the covers, probably still processing her embarrassment. Or hiding from it.
Once, I saw her peek out. The second our eyes met, she ducked right back in.
I allowed myself a small smile.
She was impossible.
When I finished my work, I stood and stretched, then checked on her again. "Still alive in there?"
No answer.
Just a quiet groan from under the blanket.
Eventually, sometime in the late afternoon, she emerged—messy hair, flushed cheeks, still in that bathrobe, eyes avoiding mine like I was the sun and she'd stared too long.
She didn't say a word. Just shuffled into the bathroom and shut the door.
The sound of running water filled the room.
I sat back on the couch, waiting.
When she came out, fresh and glowing from the shower, something about her felt softer. Calmer.
She still avoided looking directly at me.
I stood, meeting her halfway. "Go get dressed."
"Huh?"
"We're having dinner together, Wear something prettier than yesterday."
Her eyes widened with surprise.
She nodded. "Okay."
I finished getting ready while she was still in the dressing room.
No suit today. I didn't feel like wearing a tie. Instead, I went for a black shirt, sleeves rolled halfway up my forearms. Clean and simple
The dressing room door finally opened.
She stepped out slowly, her hair still slightly damp, framing her face in soft waves. That white off-shoulder dress clung gently to her frame, light and airy, like something made of clouds. It barely reached her mid-thighs, just long enough to tease without trying. The fabric floated around her as she moved . Fluffy, delicate, adorable.
It suited her.
I took a breath sharp and quiet trying to control the sudden thud in my chest. She wasn't looking at me yet, busy adjusting her dress. The exposed skin made it worse.
When she finally lifted her eyes, she hesitated.
Like she was unsure of herself. Unsure of me.
"You look…" I started, but stopped myself before the word beautiful slipped out too easily.
I cleared my throat and straightened my collar instead. "You clean up well."
She smiled . Her fingers twisted in the hem of her dress like she didn't know what to do with them.
And in that moment, all I wanted was to reach out and hold her hand, tell her she had no idea how she was affecting me.
But I didn't.
Instead, I picked up my watch from the side table and fastened it, keeping my voice steady.
"Let's go. We'll be late."
Because if I looked at her any longer, I might not want to leave this room at all.
The car ride was quiet.
We arrived at the hotel I'd reserved days ago. It was elegant, secluded, private.
The staff greeted us discreetly and led us to the balcony table I had requested. It overlooked the entire city under the night sky. The air was cool. Quiet jazz hummed somewhere in the background.
"It's beautiful " she whispered, "This hotel must be expensive. Views like this don't come cheap."
I didn't respond.
She didn't know I had booked the entire place.
Because I hate crowds.
And maybe because I didn't want anyone else seeing her like this eyes lit, smile soft, wearing that dress that swayed every time the breeze touched her.
We sat. Talked a little. She was still shy, but more relaxed now. The meal was quiet but pleasant.
Then came dessert.
I had already asked the chef to prepare a variety of sweets based on the ones she rambled about while drunk last night. Hazelnut mousse, strawberry parfait, warm chocolate tart, lemon panna cotta.
She tried them all. Made delighted little noises under her breath. Closed her eyes like each bite was a surprise.
She had no idea I was watching her more than the view. That I wasn't paying attention to the city anymore.
Only her.