Chapter 74 The Romantic Getaway 2
Alexander.
The dinner was torture.
Not because the food was bad. The resort's restaurant was excellent, with ocean views and soft lighting that should have been relaxing. But sitting across from Dandelion, watching candlelight flicker across her face while we made awkward small talk, felt like some kind of punishment.
She had changed into a simple blue dress that made her eyes look even brighter. Her hair was down, falling in soft waves over her shoulders. And damn she looked really beautiful, and I hated that I noticed.
"The pasta is good," she said, breaking another stretch of silence.
"Yeah."
"And the view is nice to."
"Mmhmm."
She set down her fork with more force than necessary. "Alex, you're being monosyllabic."
I raised a brow, "Am I?"
"Yes. You are." She leaned forward slightly. "Look, I know this is weird. Trust me, I know. But we're stuck here for the weekend, so we might as well try to make it bearable."
She was right. I knew she was right. But every time I looked at her, I suddenly have flash of memories, memories of our first night together, then the way I couldn't resist the urge to hug her at the library, the way she had felt in my arms when she cried. And how badly I had wanted to stay there, holding her, instead of walking away like a coward.
I sighed.
"You're right," I admitted. "I'm sorry. I'm just thinking about work."
It was a lie. I hadn't thought about work for once since we arrived.
"The board meeting you mentioned?"
I nodded, grateful for the excuse. "There's some resistance to a new project I'm pushing. It's nothing I can't handle."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
The offer surprised me. "You want to hear about corporate politics?"
"I want to hear about something other than this awkward silence." She smiled slightly. "Plus, I'm technically a CEO's wife now. Might as well learn the business."
It felt unusually good to hear her call herself my wife.
So I told her about the project. About the board members who were resistant to my change, the ones who still saw me as too young, too reckless and the fact that they still slightly support Viola. She listened carefully, actually listened, asking smart questions that showed she understood more than I expected.
"They actually sound scared," she said after I finished explaining the latest conflict.
"Scared?"
"Yes, they're scared of losing control. Of things changing too fast." She took a sip of wine. "I get it. When you've had power for a long time, anyone new feels like a threat."
"That's exactly it."
"So you need to make them feel like they're still important. Like their experience matters, even while you're pushing forward with new ideas."
I stared at her greatly amused. "That's actually brilliant."
She shrugged, but I caught the pleased smile she tried to hide. "I've dealt with difficult producers, it's somehow the same principle."
The conversation flowed easier after that. We talked about her career, about the industry response to Chase's exposure, about her plans for a comeback. She was animated when she spoke about acting, her whole face lighting up. I found myself watching her more than talking, caught up in the way she moved her hands when she got excited.
By the time we finished dinner, the tension had eased slightly. Not gone, but manageable.
The walk back to the villa was quiet, but it wasn't the suffocating silence from the car ride. It was almost comfortable.
Almost.
Then we stepped inside and saw the bed again, rose petals still scattered across it like a reminder of what this weekend was supposed to be about.
"Right," Dandelion said, her voice suddenly tight. "So. Sleeping arrangements?"
"I can still take the couch." I insisted.
"We discussed this. You won't fit."
"Then the floor."
"Alex." She turned to face me, hands on her hips. "We're both adults. We can share a bed without it being weird."
"Can we?"
The question hung between us. Her cheeks flushed slightly.
"Yes," she said firmly. "We can. But I have one condition."
"What?"
She marched over to the bed and grabbed several decorative pillows from the chair nearby. Then she arranged them down the center of the bed, creating a clear dividing line.
"A pillow barrier," she announced. "You stay on your side, I stay on mine. Simple."
I almost laughed. "You think pillows will make a difference?"
"Do you have a better idea?"
I didn't. "Fine. Pillow barrier it is."
We got ready for bed in shifts, carefully avoiding each other. When I came out of the bathroom in sleep pants and a t-shirt, she was already on her side of the pillow barrier, facing away from me, the blanket pulled up to her chin.
I climbed into my side, maintaining as much distance as possible.
"Goodnight," she said softly.
"Goodnight."
I turned off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. Only the moonlight filtering through the windows provided any light.
This was fine. We were two adults sharing a bed with a clear boundary. Nothing would happen.
I lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore how aware I was of her presence. The sound of her breathing. The slight dip in the mattress from her weight. The faint scent of her shampoo.
This was going to be a long night.
...............
I must have eventually fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, I was waking up in darkness. The clock on the nightstand read 2:17 AM.
Something felt different.
The pillow barrier was still there, but Dandelion wasn't on her side of it anymore.
My eyes narrowed, trying to see if I was just seeing things with sleepy eyes.
But she really wasn't there, that was when I felt the small weight on my chest.
She was curled against me.
Her head rested on my chest, one arm draped across my stomach. Her body was pressed along my side, fitting against me perfectly like she belonged there. She was still sound asleep, her breathing deep and even.
I should move. Push her back to her side or wake her up.
Instead, I found my arm wrapping around her shoulders, pulling her closer.
She made a small sound, something between a sigh and a hum, and burrowed deeper into my chest. Her fingers curled into my shirt.
This doesn't mean anything, I told myself. She's asleep. She doesn't know what she's doing.
But even as I thought about it, my hand was moving of its own accord, smoothing down her hair, tracing slow patterns on her shoulder.
She felt perfect here. Like this was where she was supposed to be.
I stared down at her peaceful face, brightened by the moonlight. The stress lines that had appeared during the scandal were finally starting to fade. She looked younger like this, vulnerable in a way she never let herself be when awake.
My chest tightened with something I refused to name.
This was dangerous. This feeling, this moment, all of it. We had rules for a reason. Boundaries that kept things simple and safe.
But lying here with her in my arms, I couldn't remember why those boundaries had seemed so important.
I tucked her closer and let myself have this moment. Just for a few hours. Just until dawn.
It didn't mean anything. I kept telling myself that as I drifted back to sleep, her warmth and her heartbeat steady against mine.
............................
When I woke again, the room was lighter. Dawn was breaking into soft pink light filtering through the windows.
Dandelion was still in my arms.
And I was still holding her like I had no intention of letting go.
Her eyes fluttered open slowly. I watched her come back to consciousness, and saw the exact moment she realized where she was.
She froze.
Her eyes widened, meeting mine. She was close enough that I could almost count her eyelashes and see the ring of darker blue around her irises.
Neither of us moved.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean to cross over. I must have moved in my sleep."
"It's fine."
"I can move back now."
"Okay."
But she didn't move neither did I loosen my hold on her.
We just lay there, staring at each other as the sunrise painted the room in shades of gold and pink.
Her hand was still fisted in my shirt. Mine was still curved around her shoulder. The pillow barrier had been completely destroyed at some point, scattered across the bed.
"Alex," she breathed.
"Yeah?"
"What are we doing?"
I didn't have an answer. I didn't know what this was, what we were becoming or what any of it meant.
All I knew was that she fit perfectly against me, and I didn't want to let go.
I was about to say something, anything, when my phone erupted in a loud ringing from the nightstand.
We both jolted by the sudden interruption.
Dandelion scrambled back to her side of the bed, putting space between us trying to arrange her messy yet attractive hair. I grabbed my phone in annoyance.
Walter's name flashed on the screen.
"What?" I answered with a rougher voice than I intended.
"Good morning to you too, sir." Walter sounded amused. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
"What do you want, Walter?"
"Mrs. Graham asked me to check that you both arrived safely. She's been calling all morning but you weren't answering."
Because I had silenced my phone last night, not wanting any work interruptions.
"We're fine. Tell her we're fine."
"I will. Also, she wanted me to remind you that the villa has a couples massage scheduled for this afternoon. She specifically requested that you both attend."
Of course she did, she had to even monitor our schedule.
"Anything else?"
"Just one more thing. I know I shouldn't bring this up, but the board meeting has been moved up to tomorrow morning. The members are getting impatient."
My jaw clenched. "I told them I wasn't available until Monday."
"They're aware. But Director Gregory is pushing hard for the vote. He wants to move forward with or without you."
I glanced at Dandelion. She was sitting up now with her back to me.
"I'll handle it," I told Walter. "Thanks for the update."
I hung up and tossed the phone aside.
"Work?" Dandelion asked without turning around.
"Yeah." I muttered.
"The board meeting?"
"They apparently moved it up."
She finally looked at me. "Do you need to go back?"
Part of me wanted to say yes. To use work as an excuse to escape this villa, this situation, the dangerous feelings stirring in my chest.
But looking at her, her hair messey from sleep, her eyes still soft from our moment before the phone rang, I found myself saying, "No. It can wait."
Her expression flickered with something I couldn't read. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
We sat there quietly, the ruined pillow barrier between us, neither of us knowing what to say next.
But I had the sinking hunch that one weekend in this villa might not be enough to figure out what the hell was happening between us.
Or maybe it would be more than enough.