Chapter 42 I Won't Lie To Your Face
Alex was standing at Sarah's door.
When the door finally opened, Sarah didn't scream. She didn't lash out. She just stood there in a soft, cream-colored sweater that looked too big for her now, her hair pulled back in a messy knot. She looked tired.
"Alex," she whispered. Her voice wasn't sharp; it was just heavy.
"You shouldn't be here. We talked about this. If someone sees your truck..."
"The street is empty, Sarah. Nobody is watching in this weather," Alex said, his voice low and steady. He didn't wait for an invitation. He stepped inside, closed the door behind him and locked it.
"I couldn't leave you alone tonight. Not after everything."
Sarah stepped back, her arms crossed over her chest. She looked at him and the usual fire of her professional persona seemed to have died out.
"I'm fine," she said, though her voice lacked conviction.
"I’m just... figuring things out."
"You haven't eaten," Alex noted, his eyes scanning her face. He could see the slight hollows in her cheeks. He walked past her toward the kitchen, his boots shedding water on the hardwood.
"Alex, stop," she said, following him.
"I’m not hungry. I don't need you to play house. I need you to understand the risk we’re taking every second you’re in this building."
"I understand the risks better than you think," he replied. He ignored her protests and went straight to the refrigerator. He found some pasta, some fresh garlic, and a bit of parmesan. It wasn't a feast, but it was a start. He moved with a quiet, efficient grace, his large hands certain and gentle as he began to prepare the meal.
Sarah sat at the kitchen island, her chin resting in her hands. She watched him work, her gaze tracking the way his shoulders moved under his wet shirt. She didn't try to push him out again. She just sighed, a long, weary sound that filled the room.
"You’re impossible," she murmured. "I tell you the world is ending, and you make dinner."
"The world isn't ending," Alex said, not looking up from the stove. The smell of sautéing garlic began to fill the kitchen, cutting through the damp chill.
"It’s just messy right now. I’m sorry, Sarah. I’m sorry about Mark. I’m sorry about the audit. I’m sorry that everything I’ve done to protect you has only made things harder."
He turned around, the pan sizzling behind him. He walked over to her and stood between her knees, his presence large and grounding. He reached out, his thumb tracing the dark circles under her eyes.
"I'm going to fix it," he promised. "All of it. The accounts, the contract, even Mark. I won't let him take this from you."
Sarah didn't pull away. She leaned into his touch, her eyes closing for a brief second. She didn't crash out. She didn't tell him he was a mistake or a curse. She just sounded defeated.
"How, Alex?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
"You talk like you have a magic wand. This isn't Gary or Joseph. This is Richard Harrington. He has more money than some small countries. He has lawyers who haven't slept since the nineties. You can’t just fight your way through a billionaire."
Alex went back to the stove, plating the pasta and setting it in front of her. He handed her a fork and waited until she took a bite.
"Eat first."
She took a small, hesitant bite, and he saw her shoulders relax just a fraction. The warmth of the food seemed to ground her.
"It’s good," she admitted. "But you’re avoiding the question. You keep saying you’ll fix things, but you’re just a student, Alex. A very brave, very possessive student, but a student nonetheless. How do you plan to get to a man like Harrington?"
He didn't remind her that college would be history in a couple of months when he was completely cleared to graduate.
She let out a short, dry laugh, shaking her head.
"What are you going to do? Sneak into his office? He has a private security force. You’d be arrested before you hit the elevator."
Alex pulled up a stool and sat across from her. He watched her for a moment, his heart hammering against his ribs.
This was the moment. The shield was coming down, and he had no idea if she would ever forgive him for the truth behind it.
"I don't have to sneak in, Sarah," Alex said. His voice was flat, devoid of the usual heat.
Sarah paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. She frowned, her head tilting slightly.
"What does that mean?"
"I've spent my whole life trying to be anyone else," Alex began, his eyes fixed on hers. "I took my mother's maiden name. I moved across the country. I lived in a crappy apartment and worked odd jobs because I didn't want a single thing to do with that man’s world. I wanted to be a person, not a legacy."
Sarah set the fork down, her expression shifting from confusion to a sudden, sharp alertness. "Alex... what are you talking about?"
He reached across the counter and took her hand. His grip was firm, possessive, but his eyes were pleading. He adored her more than he had ever adored anything, and the thought of her looking at him the way Mark did was almost more than he could bear.
"You asked how I plan to get to him," Alex said. He took a breath, the words feeling like stones in his mouth.
"I don't have to get to him, Sarah. I’m already there."
"I don't understand," she whispered.
"I’m not just some kid who happened to be in the right place to protect you," Alex said, his voice dropping into a low, heavy vibration.
"I’m the only son of Richard Harrington."
The silence that followed was absolute. The only sound was the rain on the roof and the hum of the refrigerator. Sarah’s hand went limp in his. She stared at him, her eyes wide, searching his face for a joke, a lie, anything other than the truth.
"You're... what?" she breathed.
"He's my father, Sarah," Alex repeated.
"And he's doing all of this—the audit, the takeover, the pressure on the board—because he wants me back."
Sarah didn't say anything. She didn't scream. She just looked at him as if he were a stranger she had invited into her bed.
"You're a Harrington," she said, her voice hollow.
"By blood," Alex said, his grip tightening on her hand.
"But I'm yours by choice. And I'm going to use that blood to end this. I promise you, Sarah. You'll have your contract. You'll have your firm. I won't let him win."
He watched her, waiting for the explosion, but it didn't come. She just sat there looking at him.