Chapter 114
Elizabeth's POV
I stared into Lisa's earnest eyes, warmth blooming in my chest before I could stop it. She wasn't lying. I could feel it.
"Ms. Spencer, what you're really saying is you care a lot about how Mr. Windsor sees you, right? That's why you wanted to ask."
I cleared my throat and nodded. "Yeah. So…"
She still hadn't actually answered my question, which only made me more curious—more desperate, honestly—to know anything and everything about him.
"Those two days you were missing, Mr. Windsor looked totally off. He had this icy aura going on, and none of us even dared to ask him about you."
"Seriously?"
I could picture it. Alexander barely talked on a good day, so when he was worried about someone… did he just go even quieter?
Maybe. Either way, the fact that he reacted at all meant something. He cared. At least a little.
"Ms. Spencer, so are you maybe starting to like Mr. Windsor?" Lisa asked in this tiny, hopeful voice, staring at me like she was waiting for a confession scene in a rom-com.
I blinked, hesitated, then finally nodded.
Sure, she said she was on my side, but things like this had a way of slipping to Alexander whether I liked it or not.
Still, the moment I admitted it—to myself and out loud—I wasn't afraid of him knowing.
If anything, I wanted to see what he would do once he did know.
"Ms. Spencer!" Lisa squealed and grabbed my hands. "Oh my god, that's such a relief! You and Mr. Windsor are, like, ridiculously perfect for each other!"
Her excitement made heat creep up my neck, and I pressed my lips together before mumbling, "Alright, I'm gonna go wash up. Let's… not talk about this for now."
Too much had happened too fast. If we kept going, I was going to combust from embarrassment alone. Escaping felt like the most sensible option.
Lisa finally released me, clearly fighting the urge to say more. "Okay! Ms. Spencer, take your time. If you need anything, just tell me!"
She scurried out, and the door clicked shut behind her.
Only then did I let out a long, shaky breath.
Just talking about Alexander had turned me into a nervous mess. It was ridiculous. Torturous, even.
After changing clothes, I didn't stay in the room for long. There were things I needed to sort out, and Alexander was the only one who had answers.
But the moment I stepped outside, I ran straight into him.
He was standing in the hallway, and when our eyes met, his brow creased slightly.
"You don't look great. You're not planning to rest a little?"
He'd changed, looking like he was about to head somewhere important.
"Where are you going?" I asked bluntly, stepping closer.
His expression slid back into that unreadable mask he always wore. "To the office. I have things to handle."
"I'm going with you." The words came out before he could shut me down.
My sudden disappearance had put our entire project on pause, and he had never explained why he'd gone to that villa.
He had always been a mystery, but now there were layers upon layers I couldn't ignore.
If I let him walk away now, I might never get the truth.
Even if he tried to stop me, I was going to follow. I needed to see everything with my own eyes.
"If you want to come to the office, then keep up," he said calmly.
So I did. I followed him out and slid into the car beside him.
The driver started the engine. Alexander and I sat side by side in the back seat.
The car was quiet, and Alexander leaned back with his eyes closed like he was resting. Meanwhile, I felt like I was sitting on needles.
After everything that had happened, he still wasn't saying a word?
Even if he didn't want to explain, shouldn't he at least acknowledge something?
The longer he stayed silent, the more irritated I became.
But starting the conversation myself felt impossible.
Almost at the company, I finally forced myself to speak. "You still haven't told me what really happened."
His eyes opened, heavy with a kind of fatigue that made my chest twist. He just stared at me.
One look and my resolve melted. I dropped my gaze, suddenly flustered.
"Whatever it was… it involved me too. If you know something, you should tell me. Right?"
I wanted answers. Needed them. And deep down, I was hoping—praying—he'd actually talk to me.
To him, I was just the woman carrying his child. He didn't owe me anything.
But once I realized how I felt about him, I couldn't stop hoping. Wishing that, in his world, I wasn't just anyone.
Even if it was foolish, I wanted something from him. Some sign.
I looked into his eyes, not aware of what I was showing on my face.
When the car finally stopped, and he reached for the door, I grabbed his sleeve before he could step out.
"Mr. Windsor," I said softly, blinking up at him, "there's something I want to talk to you about."
He looked at me for several seconds, then signaled the driver to leave. Once we were alone, he said, "What is it?"
I released his arm and drew in a breath. "Mr. Windsor, you know what I want to ask, don't you?"
Everything from earlier still hung in the air, unresolved. If he'd listened to me at all, he had to know why I needed him to stay.
"What do you want to know?" he asked, just when I thought he'd brush me off again.
I rushed out the question. "You went to the address I sent you. You told me that place belonged to the Windsor family… so you went anyway?"
My voice dropped to a whisper, and I couldn't look at him anymore.
'Did he go because he cared? Or was it just instinct once he recognized the location?'
The more I thought about it, the less anything made sense.
His expression didn't shift at all, and it stung way more than I expected. My pulse skittered painfully, and confusion clawed through my chest.
What did he truly think of everything I'd said?
Did he care about my feelings even half as much as I cared about his answer?