Chapter 61
Grace's POV
A hint of shyness appeared on Alex's face—an expression that rarely graced his features. With him here, the apartment felt different. Warmer, somehow. Less like a temporary refuge and more like... home.
"Have you eaten?" I asked. His tie was already loosened, top button undone—small signs of a long day that made my chest tighten with concern.
"I grabbed something earlier." He moved toward me with that quiet confidence I'd come to recognize. "But I wouldn't say no to whatever you're offering."
I smiled, feeling oddly domestic as I led him toward the kitchen. "Coffee? Tea? I think I have some sparkling water somewhere up—"
My words cut off as his hand found the small of my back, warm through the thin fabric of my blouse. He reached past me, his chest nearly touching my shoulder, to retrieve a bottle of San Pellegrino from the high shelf.
God, he smells good. That scent distinctly Alex—cologne with hints of cedar and bergamot.
"Your cabinets are very European-style," he murmured near my ear, his voice carrying a teasing warmth that made my knees weak. "All those high shelves. Impractical for someone your height."
"I manage just fine," I shot back, but my voice came out breathier than intended.
His hand lingered on my waist for a moment longer before he stepped back, and I felt the loss of his warmth like a physical thing.
Get it together, Grace. You're acting like a teenager.
"Actually," I said, pulling open the fridge to hide my flushed face, "let me make you something special."
I grabbed bottles and began mixing. Besides perfume creation, I also studied mixology in my spare time. Two glasses. Two different drinks. The familiar ritual calmed my racing pulse.
The first drink came together in shades of deep ocean blue—mint, lemon, and a splash of vodka, crisp and clean. The second bloomed pink with rose syrup, sweet and romantic.
"Here." I slid the blue drink across the counter to Alex. "I remembered you prefer lighter flavors."
He took a sip, and I watched his eyes widen slightly before a small cough escaped him.
"Too strong?" I reached for the glass, already planning adjustments.
"No." His hand covered mine, stopping me. "It's... special. Really special."
Something in his tone made my face heat. "I can make you something hot instead—"
"Grace." He held my gaze, his blue eyes intense in the kitchen light. "You made this for me. I want to savor every drop."
Oh.
"Why are they different colors?" he asked, nodding toward my pink drink.
I picked up my glass, grateful for something to do with my hands. "The pink one has rose syrup. It's sweeter, more... indulgent. The blue is cleaner. Sharp edges, no sugar to soften it."
I hesitated, then added quietly, "Your eyes remind me of the deep ocean. Mysterious and... beautiful. The blue seemed right for you."
Did I just say that out loud?
I watched Alex take a long drink, his Adam's apple bobbing. When he set down the glass, his gaze had deepened, as if hiding some emotion.
"What would you like to do?" I asked, trying to break the intimate tension, moving toward the living room. "We could watch a movie, or I have some board games somewhere—"
I stopped, realizing I was doing it again. Listing options. Trying to accommodate. Just like I used to do for Richard—always asking what he wanted, never voicing my own needs.
Damn it, Grace. Stop that.
"You don't have to entertain me," Alex's voice interrupted my thoughts, gentle but firm. "If you're tired, we can just rest. Together."
I turned to face him, my heart skipping. I couldn't fully read his expression.
"I..." The words stuck in my throat. Tell the truth, Grace. He deserves the truth. "Actually, I'd love to take a quick shower first. Then maybe we could watch something? Though I might fall asleep before it ends—I had a long day."
The farce at the hospital had left me physically and mentally exhausted.
Saying these things felt strange. Admitting I was tired. Admitting I might not be able to stay awake for him. With Richard, this would have been seen as a failure, inviting cold mockery.
But Alex just smiled.
"That sounds perfect," he said.
That was it. No judgment. No disappointment. Just acceptance.
Warmth flooded my chest. I quickly turned toward the bathroom, afraid he'd see whatever was rising in my eyes.
Twenty minutes later, I emerged from the bathroom with damp hair, wearing comfortable pajamas.
The living room was dim, lit only by the city lights filtering through the windows. Alex sat on the couch, phone in hand, his expression focused and slightly tense.
"Alex?" I padded closer. "What are you looking at?"
He nearly jumped, quickly locking his phone screen. "Just work stuff. Nothing urgent."
But I'd caught a glimpse of what looked like... a photo? Of a hospital corridor?
"Is everything okay?" I sat beside him, close enough to feel his warmth. "No emergency at the company?"
"No emergency." He set the phone aside and pulled me against his side in one smooth motion. His arm came around my shoulders, solid and reassuring. "But I want to ask you something."
Here it comes. He knew. Somehow he knew about the hospital.
"You seemed upset when you got back," he continued, his voice low and careful. "Earlier. Did something happen?"
I leaned into him, breathing in his scent. "Just... some annoying things. Nothing I can't handle."
"The issues you mentioned before," he pressed gently. "Are they still unresolved?"
My stomach clenched. "Almost done. Just some loose ends to tie up."
"Grace." His hand found my chin, tilting my face up to meet his eyes. "If you need help—any kind of help—you just have to say the word."
"I don't need help." The words came out sharper than intended. "I can handle Richard myself."
I have to handle him myself. I won't let Alex get dragged into my revenge.