Chapter 142: Jealousy and Pasta

Amelia's POV

I trembled beneath Alexander's command, his words sending a shiver down my spine. The intensity in his ice-blue eyes was overwhelming, burning with something primal and possessive.

But as his lips claimed mine again, something shifted. My hands slid hesitantly up his chest, then slowly wrapped around his neck, my touch gentle instead of desperate. He paused, his breath catching slightly—surprised by my response. Instead of matching his ferocity, I'd answered with tenderness.

The raw hunger in his eyes didn't disappear, but it transformed as our gazes locked. His grip on my waist loosened slightly, the bruising pressure becoming a steadying hold. I could feel the tension in his body, the restraint suddenly radiating from him as he recognized my unspoken signal.

"Amelia..." His voice was rough, almost pained.

I knew what he wanted. I could feel it pressing against me through his expensive slacks. But I wasn't ready to go further, not yet, and somehow he'd sensed that without me saying a word.

Instead of pushing, I rested my head against his shoulder, breathing in his scent—sandalwood, citrus, and something uniquely him. His arms circled around my back, holding me close but not demanding more. The tension in his body remained, but something else settled between us—a quiet peace I'd never felt before with anyone.

"Thank you," I whispered against his neck.

"For what?" His hand traced gentle circles on my back.

"For stopping. For not pushing."

His chest rose and fell with a deep breath. "I won't ever force you, Amelia. No matter what's between us."

I lifted my head to look at him, carefully cradling his face between my palms. His eyes, usually so cold and distant, had softened from their typical ice-blue hardness to something warmer.

"Can we forget about all the ugly stuff for tonight?" I asked, my thumb gently tracing his cheekbone. "I want to see you happy. Even just for a little while."

He frowned slightly. "I'm not unhappy."

"Yes, you are." I smoothed my thumb over the crease between his brows. "You know, it's weird—you're like two completely different people sometimes. The Alexander who snaps at me at work, who looks at me like I'm nothing but an inconvenience... and then there's this Alexander." I gestured between us. "The one who holds me like I'm something precious."

The frown deepened, and I reached up to smooth it away again. "Stop that. No frowning tonight."

Something flickered in his expression—surprise, maybe even wonder. I realized he probably wasn't used to being touched so casually, to having someone care about his moods. The thought made my chest ache.

"You've changed," he said suddenly, studying my face. "When we first met, you could barely look me in the eye. Now you're ordering me not to frown."

I felt heat rise to my cheeks. "Is that a problem?"

"No." The corner of his mouth lifted in that rare half-smile. "I like it."

With gentle hands, he lifted me off his lap and guided my head down to rest on his thigh. "Let me drive. We can't stay parked here all night."

I settled against him, slowly becoming aware of the firmness beneath my cheek. Heat rushed to my face as I realized exactly what my head was resting near.

Alexander caught my wrist before I could move away completely. "If you distract me while I'm driving," he said, voice laced with dark humor, "you'll have to deal with the consequences."

"Where are we going?" I asked, changing the subject as he started the engine. "My place?"

"Dinner first. I'm hungry." The way he looked at me made it clear he wasn't just talking about food.

"Oh! Can we go to Bella Notte?" The excitement in my voice surprised even me. "It's this amazing Italian place near Shadow Heights University. They make the best lasagna you've ever tasted."

Alexander seemed amused by my enthusiasm. "Bella Notte it is, then."

As we drove through the evening streets, I gave him directions, watching the way the passing streetlights played across his profile. Part of me still couldn't believe I was here, with him, heading to dinner like a normal couple.

When we arrived, I practically bounced in my seat. Alexander parked his luxury car among the assortment of modest vehicles and stared at the small restaurant with its slightly faded awning and string lights.

"You're sure this is the place?" he asked, eyebrow raised.

"Positive! I know it doesn't look fancy, but trust me." I beamed at him. "This is where Nathan and Mom would take me every year for my birthday. The owners know me by name."

Alexander surveyed the restaurant silently, his expression unreadable. I saw his eyes linger on the sign, almost like he was memorizing it.

I smoothed down my dress and ran a hand through my hair, suddenly self-conscious about how I must look after our heated moment in the car. My lips felt swollen, and I was sure my cheeks were still flushed.

"Ready?" I asked, reaching for the door handle.

Inside, the restaurant was warm and cozy, with checkered tablecloths and potted plants everywhere. The walls were covered with framed photos of Italy and hand-written customer notes. It wasn't fancy by any stretch, but it felt like home.

I linked my arm through Alexander's, acutely aware of how out of place he looked in his expensive suit. Every woman in the place turned to stare as we walked in.

"This way," I said, leading him to a quiet corner table. In a moment of boldness, I pulled out his chair. "Please sit, mate." I emphasized the word with a grin. "Tonight, I'm treating you."

Alexander's eyebrows shot up, but he sat, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips.

"What?" I asked, taking my own seat.

"Nothing." He glanced around. "I'm just noticing how different you are from the women at Westbrook."

"Is that good or bad?"

"Good." He leaned forward slightly. "I pay you enough to dine at any five-star restaurant in the city, yet you bring me here."

"I've been coming here since I was a kid," I shrugged. "The food is amazing, and they don't charge you extra just because the plates have gold trim or whatever."

A young waitress approached our table, her eyes widening when she saw Alexander. "Welcome to Bella Notte," she said, her attention fixed entirely on him. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"I'll have a glass of your house red," I said pointedly.

She barely glanced at me. "And for you, sir?" Her voice had dropped an octave, practically purring.

"The same," Alexander replied, his tone neutral.

"I'll be right back with those," she promised, lingering a moment too long before walking away.

"Are you ready to order food, or do you need some time?" I asked Alexander, ignoring the waitress's behavior.

"Order whatever you recommend. I trust your judgment."

When the waitress returned with our wine, she placed Alexander's down with a flourish, leaning over just enough to give him a view down her blouse. As she set my glass down, I caught her stealing another glance at him.

"Hey," I snapped, louder than I intended. "What exactly are you staring at?"

The girl startled, a blush spreading across her cheeks. "I—I'm sorry, I was just—"

"He might be gorgeous, but you can't just ogle him while you're working," I continued, surprised by my own boldness. "He's with me, got it?"