Chapter 3 - The Burgundy Dress
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The freezing autumn wind whipped across the stone balcony. Alexander gripped the marble railing with both hands, his knuckles turning stark white.
“Did you enjoy dancing with Joseph?” he asked, his voice dripping with restrained jealousy.
“Yes, I did.”
The direct answer landed like a physical blow.
He turned to face me. “You knew exactly what that would do to me.”
“No,” I corrected him fiercely. “I knew you were my employer. I assumed my personal freedom belonged exclusively to me.”
He closed the distance between us, his dark presence overwhelming the balcony.
“I have spent eight long months pretending I don't lose my mind every time you walk into my office,” he admitted, his composure breaking. “Tonight, every powerful man in that ballroom was staring at you.”
“That sounds like a personal problem, Alexander.”
“It is my problem!” he snapped, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “And I am rapidly losing the ability to control it.”
His raw vulnerability caught me completely off guard.
He stood mere inches away, close enough that I could smell cedar and expensive whiskey on his collar.
“Tell me right now that you feel nothing for me,” he challenged, his chest heaving. “Say the words, and I will put every professional boundary back in place. I will never cross the line again.”
“You already crossed it,” I pointed out.
His dark eyes narrowed.
“The burgundy gown,” I listed. “The possessive order to stay where you could see me. Dragging me off the dance floor because your ego couldn't handle another man holding my hand. You don't get to brand your possessiveness as romance and expect me to be grateful.”
A flash of genuine shame washed over his rugged features.
“You’re right,” he whispered quietly.
Alexander Pellegrini was a man who never apologized to anyone. Hearing those two words come out of his mouth was startling.
“I wanted you near me,” he confessed, his voice rough. “I used my executive authority because asking you directly would have exposed how desperately vulnerable I am to you. That was wrong of me.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. “And your feelings?”
“They are inconvenient. Dangerous. And entirely relentless.”
He didn't reach out to touch me.
That restraint meant everything.
I closed the small gap between us and pulled his collar down, kissing him first.
For a second, his entire body went rigid with shock. Then his large hand gently cupped my jawline, holding me with extraordinary care as he responded to the kiss. Eight months of hidden glances, late-night office shifts, and unspoken tension exploded between us. When I finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, his breathing ragged.
“This puts you in direct danger, Gabriella,” he breathed into the night air.
“Danger from what?”
“From my world. From my enemies.”
“Then stop hiding things and tell me the truth.”
“Tomorrow.”
“That isn't honesty, Alexander.”
He closed his eyes briefly, fighting an internal war. “Tomorrow morning in my private office. No secrets. I promise you.”
He kept that promise, but his deep-seated panic ruined everything before the sun even set.
On Monday morning, he treated me with icy professional courtesy, calling me Miss Mitchell and closing his office door. By five o'clock, I had survived nine hours of corporate distance sharp enough to cut glass. I remained seated at my desk long after the rest of the executive staff went home.
At six-fifteen, his heavy office door swung open.
“You’re still here, Miss Mitchell.”
“You promised me the complete truth, Alexander.”
May you like
He looked exhausted, his intimidating aura giving way to sheer fatigue. “Come inside.”
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