Chapter 62
Alex's POV
Just thinking about the man who deceived Grace made something dark and possessive twist in my gut. Violet's message had included photos.
I forced myself to breathe slowly, to keep my voice even. "You don't have to do everything alone."
"But I do." She pulled back slightly, her green eyes fierce. "This is my fight, Alex. My past. I need to be the one who ends it."
The determination in her voice was admirable. Sexy, even. But it also made me want to wrap her up and protect her from everything that had ever hurt her.
Instead, I just held her closer.
"Okay," I said quietly. "But I'm here. Always."
She relaxed against me, and I reached for the remote. "Movie?"
"Something mindless," she murmured, already sounding drowsy.
I pulled up a thriller, but I wasn't really watching. I was too aware of Grace's weight against my side, the way her hand gripped my shirt, her breathing gradually evening out into sleep.
When I was certain she was out, I let myself look at her properly.
The city lights painted half her face in silver—ethereal, almost angelic. The other half remained in shadow, mysterious and alluring.
Mine, something primitive in me insisted. She's supposed to be mine.
I traced her cheekbone with one finger, so light she didn't stir.
"From now on," I whispered, knowing she couldn't hear me, "I want to be the only one in your heart. Stop hurting yourself over men who don't deserve you."
She shifted in her sleep, her hand tightening on my shirt. Even unconscious, she held on.
I stayed there until my back ached and my arm went numb. Then I carefully lifted her, carrying her to the bedroom. She never let go of my arm, not even when I laid her down, so I had to awkwardly tuck her in one-handed.
I bent down, pressed my lips to her forehead.
"Good night, darling," I breathed against her skin.
Then I forced myself to leave, closing the door softly behind me.
---
Grace's POV
Sunlight shouldn't be this bright.
I groaned, rolling over to check my phone. 9:47 AM.
Shit. I'd overslept by nearly two hours.
I stumbled out of bed, my head spinning slightly from moving too quickly. The apartment was quiet. Too quiet.
"Alex?"
No answer.
I checked the guest room—bed made, military-neat. Like he'd never been there at all.
My chest felt hollow as I walked to the kitchen. On the counter, propped against my coffee maker, was a note in strong, angular handwriting:
Had to leave early for a meeting. Didn't want to wake you—you needed the rest. Coffee's programmed to start at 8:30. There's breakfast in the fridge.
See you soon.
Alex
I stared at the note, something warm and aching spreading through my chest.
He took care of me, even when leaving.
My phone buzzed. A text from Alex: Did you sleep well?
Before I could reply, another message: I'm sorry I left without saying goodbye. Last night was... important to me.
I smiled despite myself, typing back: It was important to me too. Thank you for staying.
His response was immediate: I'd stay every night if you'd let me.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard, heart hammering.
What are we doing?
But I didn't have answers. Only the warmth of his words and the memory of his arms around me.
I had thought this family alliance wouldn't involve any real feelings, but now we were both falling deeper and deeper.
---
Alex's POV
Morning light filtered through my office windows, but I barely noticed. My fingers hovered over my phone screen, typing out a message to Grace.
Remember to eat your breakfast. Busy day ahead—will contact you later.
Send.
I leaned back in my chair, exhaling slowly. Last night, watching her sleep against my shoulder, feeling the weight of her trust—it did something to me I couldn't quite name.
My thumb scrolled through the photos Violet had sent me last night.
Grace, in a hospital corridor. Talking to Richard Harrison. The angle was deliberate—too close, too intimate.
My jaw clenched so hard I heard my teeth grind.
The photos were bullshit. Professional framing designed to create a narrative that didn't exist. I'd seen enough staged corporate espionage in my career to recognize manipulation when I saw it.
But Violet had sent them. Which meant she'd hired someone to follow Grace. To photograph her. To invade her privacy.
To what end?
I deleted the photos with more force than necessary, my finger stabbing the screen.
Violet and I had known each other since childhood. Our families moved in the same circles—charity galas, yacht clubs, summer estates. She'd always been there, a constant presence I'd never questioned.
Until now.
Until Grace.
My phone buzzed. A text from Lucas: Miss Cooper is here. Says it's urgent. I told her you're in meetings all morning but she's insisting—
The office door slammed open before I could reply.
"Alex." Violet's voice cut through the space like a blade. "We need to talk."
I looked up slowly, deliberately. She stood in the doorway, designer heels clicking against the marble as she stormed in.
Lucas appeared behind her, breathless. "Mr. Morgan, I'm sorry, she just—"
"It's fine, Lucas." I kept my voice flat. Cold. "Leave us."
Lucas hesitated for half a second, then nodded and disappeared.
The door clicked shut.
Violet and I stared at each other across my desk.
"You've been avoiding me," she said. Her voice shook—with anger or something else, I couldn't tell. "Ever since your engagement party with her. Ever since you put that ring on her finger."
I didn't respond. Just watched her.
"I sent you those photos yesterday," she continued, stepping closer. "Grace with another man. At a hospital, Alex. And you didn't even reply. Don't you care that your so-called fiancée might be—"
"Stop." The word came out quiet. Deadly. "Stop right there."
Violet blinked. "What?"
"You hired someone to follow her." I stood, and she took an involuntary step back. "You had Grace photographed without her knowledge or consent. You tried to manufacture evidence of... what, exactly? Infidelity?"
"I was trying to protect you!" Violet's voice rose. "That woman is using you, Alex! And you're just going to—"
"Enough." I slammed my palm on the desk. The sound echoed like a gunshot.
Violet flinched.