Chapter 6. Late Night Drink

Roxanne wore her old comfortable clothes and sat on the sofa near the window, staring at the world behind her. It's late at night, but perhaps it's not that late in New York. Because back in her home in the suburb in Texas, everything already went quiet after eight, she already had her dinner, and she's ready to sleep.

Meanwhile, outside the room, Alexandra is currently out from her room with a cigarette on her lips and sees a maid is bringing a tray of food to the room across from her room. "What are you doing?"

"Ah, madam, pardon, miss Roxanne is hungry. We can hear her stomach grumbling, and she asked us to bring some food and water." The maid quickly replied, feeling scared.

Alexandra, staring at the tray, a small plate of fruit, an egg sandwich, and a glass of water, she frown, "do you think this food is proper for my daughter?" She asks in disbelief.

"Get the pasta with the steak, medium rare; she's from texas, she loves meat. Garlic bread and cream soup." Then bring a bottle of my wine, too." She instructed.

"Yes, madam." The maid quickly replied.

"Give me the bottle of juice and the glass." She takes it from the tray and tells the maid to move away and to come fast with the food she mentioned.

Without knocking, Alexandra gets inside the room and sees the girl is staring at the window while crouching on the sofa. She dressed simply in an oversized shirt that slipped carelessly off one shoulder; she radiated a kind of raw beauty that no jewels or luxury could ever outshine.

Her long, golden-brunette hair tumbled down in soft, untamed waves, framing her porcelain face and catching the faint glow of the lamp. Her lips, parted ever so slightly, carried the innocence of youth yet held a quiet allure, while her eyes, heavy with drowsiness, seemed to shimmer with unspoken thoughts.

There's nothing artificial about her; she's breathtaking in the pure, unpolished way of a girl caught between childhood and womanhood, too natural to know how intoxicating she looks.

Alexandra’s breath caught; there's no artifice, no practiced seduction in the girl, and yet she radiated a dangerous kind of allure, the kind that slipped past defenses without asking permission. Roxanne's unpolished, innocent, and even fragile, but she's also intoxicating, a living contradiction Alexandra found herself helplessly drawn to.

For a fleeting moment, Alexandra almost forgot herself, almost forgot to speak, caught in the quiet spell of Roxanne simply existing. "Alex? Uh—sorry, mother?" the girl's voice sounded awkward.

Alexandra walks in with a bottle of juice and a glass in her hand. “You can call me Alex when your uncle or your new father isn’t around.” She sat down across from Roxanne.

“They’re preparing your dinner. I told them to bring you more meat.” She handed Roxanne the glass, then poured the juice. “Drink.”

Roxanne stared at the liquid in her hand. It isn’t the cloudy, cheap store-bought juice she was used to back home. This one gleamed a deep golden amber, clear as glass and chilled to perfection, the kind of drink that looked more at home in a crystal decanter than a grocery aisle.

She took a hesitant sip, and the flavor hit her, rich, layered, almost honey-sweet with a crisp bite at the end. It tasted like autumn orchards and sunlight bottled into something too fine, too extravagant, nothing like the watery tang she grew up with.

“Good, right? My favorite.” Alexandra’s smile spread wide across her face, unguarded and proud, almost playful in a way that didn’t match the sharp, intimidating aura she carried with her only moments ago.

Roxanne felt her teenage heart stumble, then race wildly in her chest, as though it were trying to leap out. The woman sitting in front of her, the cold, terrifying figure, suddenly shifted into someone warmer, almost radiant, with just that one smile. Alexandra is still intimidating, her presence still heavy and commanding, but the change in her expression is so striking that Roxanne thought it could be used as a weapon all on its own, a smile beautiful enough to kill.

The two of them fell into a silence that's not awkward but strangely comfortable. Roxanne sipped slowly at her apple juice, the cold sweetness lingering on her tongue, while Alexandra leaned back and gazed at the glittering view of New York City through the enormous windows. The skyline stretched endlessly before them, lights shimmering like a sea of stars pulled down to earth.

“You know why I chose a penthouse instead of a house?” Alexandra asked at last. Her cigarette dangled loosely between her fingers, the filter pressed between her teeth, though she never lit it. It seemed more like a habit, something to occupy her hands, than a real desire to smoke.

“Why?” Roxanne asked, placing her empty glass down carefully on the table.

Alexandra smiled faintly, almost to herself, before taking the glass and filling it halfway again. “You’ll be fine with juice at night. The bathroom’s close,” she said, setting it gently back in front of Roxanne. Her voice softened, though her eyes stayed steady, sharp as ever. “Drink again. And eat a lot. You’re still young.”

Her gaze drifted back to the window, and her voice lowered, serious now. “Because from up here, I can see everything. I can see everyone. And if someone ever tried to kill me, I’d know before they could even throw the knife or fire the bullet.”

Roxanne froze, her eyes going wide, her face twisting with disbelief. “Did you really just say that to a sixteen-year-old?” she asked, horrified by the matter-of-fact way Alexandra had spoken.

For a heartbeat, Alexandra only stared at her. Then, unexpectedly, laughter burst from her chest—rich, deep, and unrestrained. It's the kind of laugh that shook away the weight of years, that carried both sharpness and relief. Since Russia, she had not allowed herself that release, not out loud. Now, for the first time in years, she's laughing freely and openly, and it feels strange even to her.

Roxanne’s stomach knotted as she watched. She had never seen anything so beautiful and terrifying at once. Alexandra’s laugh transformed her face, softening the edges and revealing a glimpse of the woman hidden beneath the armor, and the sight made Roxanne feel like the world had tilted beneath her feet.

Before she could gather her thoughts, the door opened and two maids entered, carrying a silver tray filled with food. They set it down gently, unveiling a meal that looked like it belonged in a five-star restaurant: creamy pasta with a thick, perfectly seared steak, garlic bread glistening with melted butter and herbs; a bowl of velvety cream soup, and finally, a tall bottle of wine accompanied by an elegant glass.

Roxanne’s eyes widened, sparkling with curiosity as they lingered on the bottle. “Wine?” she asked softly.

“That’s for me, young lady,” Alexandra replied, reaching effortlessly for the bottle as if it belonged to her alone. She poured the deep red liquid into her glass, the wine catching the light like dark jewels. “You stick to your apple juice.”