Chapter 78
Elizabeth's POV
A subtle, persistent tension had been my companion at work ever since Alexander mentioned the party. It hummed just beneath the surface of my daily tasks, a low thrum of anticipation and anxiety. When the workday finally ended, he gave me the details.
The event was tomorrow. He would be taking me personally.
"Go to bed early. Lisa will take you to choose a formal dress tomorrow." That was the last thing Alexander said to me. I lay in bed and slowly drifted off to sleep.
Standing by his side, pretending to be his girlfriend. Now that the moment was truly upon me, the nerves I had been suppressing began to surface in earnest. What kind of demeanor should I adopt when faced with the Windsor family? And the child, this secret nestled within me—surely it remained a secret to them.
The next day arrived under a haze of nervous energy. Under Lisa's attentive care, I was fitted into an evening gown and then led to where Alexander was waiting. The high heels made my steps unsteady, a precariousness that did not escape his notice.
Alexander's brow furrowed the moment he saw me teetering. "Who chose these shoes for you?"
Before I could form a reply, he addressed Lisa directly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Find her a more comfortable pair."
The gown's long hem completely concealed my feet; the specific style of shoe was hardly a matter of aesthetic importance.
"Is there still time? Didn't your assistant just rush me a moment ago?" I asked, tugging at the fabric of my skirt. I lifted my gaze to him, and my eyes immediately caught on the deep ink-black of his suit.
He often wore such attire, but today felt different. Whether it was a conscious effort or not, he seemed to command even more attention than usual, his presence a magnetic force in the room.
Alexander's gaze dropped to my calves, his decision made. "Go get the new shoes," he repeated to Lisa, his voice firm.
Not daring to delay any further, Lisa hurried to comply.
Once I had changed into a pair of heels that were considerably more manageable, Alexander led me toward the riverfront.
The party, he explained on the way, was being held on the Windsors' private yacht. He also mentioned that he had delegated all the specific arrangements to Carter, which meant that even Alexander himself was walking into the event somewhat blind to the details.
I glanced at him, a seed of unease planting itself in my heart. If a man of Alexander's stature needed to invent a girlfriend for an occasion, could this affair truly be as simple as it seemed? Or was there something else at play, a piece of the puzzle I was not yet privy to?
We arrived at the docks all too quickly.
Just as Alexander and I stepped onto the yacht's gangway, a familiar figure emerged from the side.
"Elizabeth!"
It was the last voice I wanted to hear. I turned my head, my eyes locking directly with Aiden's. My first instinct was to shrink away, to find some corner to disappear into, but he was too quick, planting himself directly in my path.
"I didn't expect we'd see each other again so soon," he said. After his words hung in the air, he feigned a belated realization of Alexander's presence next to me, offering a cursory greeting.
I noticed a subtle but distinct shift in his demeanor; the deep-seated apprehension he usually displayed around Alexander seemed to have lessened, replaced by a newfound, misplaced confidence.
I intended to ignore him completely, but his presence here suggested he was an invited guest.
"Elizabeth," he pressed on, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, as if we shared a secret intimacy he was determined to perform. "We never finished our conversation last time. Let's finish it now."
I fixed him with an icy stare, hoping the coldness would be enough to make him retreat. Instead, he took another step closer.
"Don't be like that," Aiden murmured, gesturing vaguely toward the yacht's interior. "It's full of important people. Given our status, we can't really afford to disturb them, can we?"
It was a pointed reminder, a suggestion that he and I were in the same boat here—outsiders who needed to remain vigilant.
My brow tightened in irritation. I had no desire to engage with him. Beside me, Alexander watched the exchange with a look of detached amusement, showing no sign of anger, but offering no intervention either.
It was only when Aiden, emboldened by the lack of reaction, reached a hand toward me that Alexander's expression shifted. The faint smile vanished, replaced by a hard line. In one swift, decisive motion, he pulled me into his arms.
The gown I wore was ornate and floor-length, its beautiful fabric hindering my balance. I stumbled, colliding against his chest with more force than I intended.
"Let's go inside," Alexander murmured into my ear, his voice a low vibration against my skin. He took my hand, his grip firm, and began leading me toward the main salon.
Aiden was left standing there, frozen, his gaze fixed on our intertwined hands. A flicker of doubt crossed his face. "Wait a second," he called out, his voice sharp with disbelief. "What is your relationship, exactly?"
His expression was a mask of incredulity, yet his eyes never left our joined hands, as if searching my face for the answer he couldn't comprehend.
I had told him before that Alexander and I were together, a lie he had likely never truly believed. But here, in this setting, with this public display of intimacy, the fabrication gained a powerful, undeniable weight. His reaction was not surprising in the slightest.
"Isn't it obvious?" I declared, my voice steady. "Alexander and I are together."
This was, after all, the role I was here to play. It was merely a coincidence that Aiden was the first person to demand a confirmation of our status.
I lifted our joined hands for emphasis, flashing him a brilliant smile. The casual use of his first name felt foreign on my tongue—I almost always referred to him as Mr. Windsor—and the unfamiliarity of it seemed to deepen Aiden's shock.
He stared at me, his jaw trembling slightly with disbelief, and he looked as though he was about to step forward again.
Just then, the swell of music from inside the party cut him off. Several guests had spotted Alexander and were now making their way toward him, their expressions eager and sycophantic. In that moment, I became the subject of intense scrutiny.
A dozen pairs of eyes swept over me—assessing, probing, guessing. They were all wondering the same thing: Who was I, and what was my connection to Alexander Windsor?
The weight of their collective gaze was unnerving, and my fingers involuntarily loosened their grip on his. Just as my hand was about to slip free, Alexander's grasp tightened, his palm enveloping mine with an even greater force.
A strange, subtle warmth bloomed in my chest, a sensation I had never experienced before. I turned my head to look at the man beside me, at his impeccably sharp profile, and felt my heart give a sudden, powerful lurch.
Was he sensing my nervousness? Was this his way of reassuring me?
As my stare became more intense, he suddenly leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear. "Be patient," he whispered, his voice a private current in the sea of noise. "Don't let them see through it."
His quiet reminder was an instant anchor. Everyone was watching; the performance had already begun.
I nodded quickly, my own voice a hushed promise. "I'll do my best," I replied, looking up at him. Alexander had helped me so much. Even if it all stemmed from the child I carried, it was undeniable that he had never done anything to harm me. Compared to a scoundrel like Aiden, Alexander was a thousand times better.