Chapter 11: The Tension
Brandon’s Rolls Royce eased to a stop in front of one of New York’s most luxurious steakhouses, its polished frame gleaming even under the muted city light. Before the driver had fully stepped out, the restaurant manager was already at the curb, bowing slightly, his smile sharp and trained.
He knew exactly the caliber of the customer he was welcoming, and every gesture carried the desperate eagerness of a man prepared to do the best services to ensure that this particular customer bled money within his walls.
Roxanne followed Brandon inside, her steps quiet but steady, shadowing his broad figure as if his presence were a shield from the curious stares around them. She noticed how the other customers and staff alike couldn’t help but look.
The manager led them deeper, guiding them through the hushed corridors until they reached the private dining room. When he swung open the door, Roxanne took in every detail without letting it show on her face, committing each flourish to memory while keeping her expression unreadable.
The room radiated wealth not through extravagance but through refinement, an atmosphere that whispered rather than shouted. The long table stretched like a dark river of polished wood, its surface gleaming beneath a ceiling etched with rippling gold, as though molten waves had been captured mid-motion.
Roxanne lowered herself into the chair as a young waiter pulled it back for her. She didn’t bother with a smile, only gave a brief nod in acknowledgment. A month ago, back when she was still just a rural girl from Texas, she might have laughed nervously, thanked him too brightly, and maybe even tried to make small talk to ease her discomfort. But that version of Roxanne felt distant now, almost like someone else entirely.
Not long after, the door to the private dining room swung open. Alexandra stepped inside as if the space belonged to her. Power seemed to trail after her like a cloak, subtle but undeniable. Her beauty struck Roxanne with the force of a blow, the kind of beauty that isn’t just seen but felt, like heat radiating from a flame.
A trace of her perfume followed, that same Hugo Boss and a slight scent of cigarettes, and the scent alone made Roxanne’s heart ache with the reckless urge to leap from her seat, throw her arms around Alexandra, bury her face against her shoulder, and breathe her in.
Instead, Roxanne stayed perfectly still, her body frozen in place even as her thoughts roared inside her head. The wild, shameful daydreams she had wrestled with earlier came rushing back, unbidden, making her chest tighten until she could hardly breathe.
“Hello, baby,” Alexandra said, her voice a low, velvety sound that carried warmth and command all at once.
Her gaze fell on Roxanne first, sharp and unflinching, before flicking briefly to Brandon. She leaned in toward her husband, gave him a light peck on the lips, then lowered herself into the seat beside him with a grace so natural it seemed the entire room had rearranged itself simply to welcome her.
Alexandra fixed her gaze on the young girl seated opposite Brandon as soon as she entered the private dining room. Roxanne looked down, pretending to toy with the sleek new phone Brandon had purchased for her upon her arrival in New York.
She hadn’t meant to let the word slip, but “baby” escaped her lips before she could stop herself. It came too easily, too naturally, the word resting heavy with meaning she had no business voicing.
Not wanting to draw attention to the slip, she brushed it away easily, pressing a dutiful kiss to Brandon’s lips before settling into the chair at his side. But deep down, she knew her first instinct had betrayed her, because the seat she had truly wanted was the one next to Roxanne.
When the waiter returned with menus, Brandon glanced briefly through the polished leather booklet before closing it with the kind of certainty that comes from thinking he can decide everything. “For Roxanne, the salmon,” he said smoothly, already making the choice on her behalf.
The face on Roxanne's face when she heard Brandon decided for her, Alexandra knew it all too well. And she also knows that Roxanne loves a good steak, beef or lamb, cooked to perfection, just like last night when she finished the whole steak.
Before Roxanne can do something, Alexandra’s hand moves, light and deliberate, stopping him before the waiter could take the order. “Let her choose,” she said, her tone soft yet edged with steel, the kind of authority that left little room for argument.
Her eyes flicked to Roxanne, and for the briefest moment, there was something unspoken in her gaze, like a silent encouragement to take what she wanted. The young girl gave her a smile and mouthed, "thank you," to her.
Roxanne then lifted her chin, scanning the options, though she already knew what had caught her eye. “I’ll have the filet mignon with shrimp,” she said, her voice steady, though inside her chest fluttered with the thrill of being defended and protected by Alexandra, even in something as small as a meal.
“It would look better on her if she had the salmon,” Brandon said, his tone carrying that firm, matter-of-fact reasoning he often used when he wanted his word to be final.
Alexandra didn’t even blink. “The girl loves her steak,” she replied smoothly, her voice warm but edged with finality. “And anything will look good on her.” Her gaze lingered on Roxanne, soft yet deliberate, as if daring Brandon to press the matter further.
For a long second, silence hovered over the table. Brandon’s jaw tightened, his breath drawn slow through his nose before he let it out with practiced patience. He closed the menu, handed it back to the waiter, and with a clipped tone ordered his steak instead.
The dish arrived not long after, and Roxanne could hardly hide her satisfaction when the plate was set in front of her. A thick, tender cut of beef sat proudly at the center, seared to perfection so that its edges carried a smoky char while the inside promised melt-in-the-mouth softness.
Brandon gave a faint smile, though there was a flicker of disapproval in his eyes, quickly hidden. “Beef so early in the day? You’ll need a walk after this,” he remarked.
Alexandra’s lips curved faintly, a hint of a smile that seemed to carry some private meaning, as though she and Roxanne shared in a quiet rebellion no one else could name. She didn’t explain herself further, only let her words drop with deliberate ease.
“I’ll go swimming with her after this,” she announced, almost casually, though her tone left no room for question.
Brandon lifted a brow, half amused and half doubtful. “You do? You’ve got the time?”
“Yes,” Alexandra replied smoothly, her voice calm but steady, her gaze never leaving Roxanne. “For our child, I’ll make the time.”
Alexandra's words rang in Roxanne's ears, more intimate than they should have been. Roxanne felt her stomach twist, her chest tighten, and the weight of Alexandra’s unbroken stare made it hard to breathe.