Present Day
I awaken in Alexander's bed, a cocoon of warmth and comfort that feels utterly foreign to me. The remnants of last night dance in my mind, but my body protests as I attempt to move. My hands are free now, but every muscle in my body is a symphony of soreness. I let out a low groan, and just then, the door swings open.
In strides Alex, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit that accentuates his strong frame. He exudes a confident charm, and without missing a beat, he hands me a couple of ibuprofen and a glass of water. “I need to head into the office to handle the fallout from yesterday,” he says, his tone casual yet caring. “I want you to stay here, rest up. Breakfast and lunch are on their way, and I’ll be here for dinner to cook for you.”
Before I can muster a reply, he leans down, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead. It’s sweet, and it compounds the warmth pooling in my chest. The door clicks shut behind him, and I’m left alone with my thoughts.
With no energy to argue or protest, I sink back into the pillows and drift off to sleep again, wrapped in the aftermath of a night filled with unexpected passion.
My dreams are ephemeral, interrupted by a soft knock at the door. “Come in!” I yell, adjusting the sheets to cover me. A woman enters, balancing a huge breakfast tray. She places it on the dresser and starts to leave, but then she hesitates. “I’m so sorry for the wait; I didn’t mean to make you move,” she apologizes, her voice laced with genuine concern.
As realization dawns, I see she’s carrying another tray – breakfast in bed. I can’t help but smile shyly at her. She giggles a little, placing the tray over my lap. Steam wafts up from biscuits smothered in gravy, crispy bacon, and two perfectly cooked eggs, alongside a steaming cup of coffee and a glass of orange juice. It’s so thoughtfully prepared, I’m left wondering how Alexander knows me so well.
“Thank you!” I say, hoping she’ll pass along my praise to the cook. Her face flushes with a tinge of embarrassment, and a smile lights up her features. “You made it, didn’t you?” I guess, and she nods eagerly. I dig into the meal, each bite eliciting a soft moan of delight. Food truly is a love language, and this breakfast is definitely speaking my heart.
After breakfast, I drift back into slumber, and when I wake, another tray awaits on the bedside table. I peel back the lid to reveal a fully loaded sub sandwich, crunchy chips, and a Pepsi. How does he know exactly what I love? My mind races with curiosity about what dinner will hold.
Energy surges through me as I finish my lunch. I take a shower, feeling cleansed and rejuvenated, but when I step out, I realize I have nothing to wear. I wind up back in bed, clad in one of Alexander’s work shirts, feeling both comforted and strangely out of place.
And yet, I don’t need to worry about work today; I can simply bask in the afterglow of last night, the wildness of it laced with an unexpected tenderness. Alexander, with all his strength, respects me in ways I didn’t anticipate. It’s refreshing and disarming; most men who take control like that don’t consider the woman’s experience.
Time drifts by as I wait for him to return. It’s almost four when I finally decide to step out onto the balcony for some fresh air. I spot his car racing down the driveway, my heart skipping a beat. What’s happening? My heart flutters—excitement or concern, I can’t tell.
He parks with a sense of urgency and steps out, flowers in one hand and a box of chocolate in the other, his smile radiating an oddly magnetic charm. My body responds instinctively as he approaches the house, each step sending a thrill through me.
The moment he’s in the room, he sets the flowers on the bed with a flourish, then envelopes me in a warm embrace from behind, his strength grounding me against the chaos of my thoughts. I can’t shake this feeling that last night was only the beginning of something much deeper than a fleeting romance.
He turns me around so I can meet his gaze, his eyes sparkling with a promise. “Tomorrow, you’ll start working with me in the office. No more floor shifts; you’ll have a desk right across from mine.” It’s a command wrapped in a suggestion, and honestly, I feel an unexpected thrill at the prospect.
As we step further into the room, I notice bags lining the bed—gifts or surprises. I can’t wait to discover what he has planned. I can hardly believe how swiftly my life has changed, how a night of passion has opened up a new world I never even dared to dream of. A world where I’m not just an employee but something entirely different to him, something much more significant.
