Chapter 154

Evelyn often caught herself thinking, If only Claire hadn't come down with that fever five years ago—the day she was supposed to confess to Lucas—maybe Isabella would never have slipped into her place.

But life was a cruel architect of almosts and could-have-beens.

Some souls were destined to drift apart from the very beginning.

Just like her and Ethan. Seven years of chasing, seven years of heartache—and what did she have to show for it?

"Mrs. Whitmore."

Alexander's voice sliced through her thoughts, sharp as a blade. His jaw tightened. "Are you thinking about him again?"

Evelyn opened her mouth to reply, but Alexander was already gripping her wrist, pulling her into the sleek black car.

The door slammed shut, sealing them in the dim, intimate space.

Her breath hitched as Alexander's hands moved with purpose, his fingers working at the buttons of her blouse.

The leather seat pressed cold against her back as he leaned in, his gaze dark with possession.

Her pulse roared in her ears.

There was no hesitation, no gentleness—only raw, reckless need.

And Evelyn?

She didn’t dare stop him.

Evelyn's breath hitched as Alexander's imposing figure loomed over her.

"What... what are you doing?" she stammered, instinctively pressing back against the car door.

The cold metal met her spine, leaving no room for escape.

"Take off your pants," Alexander ordered, his voice rough with restrained urgency.

Her pulse skyrocketed.

Is he seriously considering this right here?

Heat flooded her cheeks as her muscles locked in shock.

The parking lot might be nearly empty, but it's still public! This is insane!

Before she could voice her protest, strong arms pulled her flush against his chest.

Her lungs burned with each shallow breath.

Noticing her tension, Alexander's lips curved into a knowing smirk. His fingers traced slow circles along her hipbone, igniting sparks beneath her skin.

He tightened his hold, his gaze darkening with something deeper than desire.

"Why didn't you tell me you were hurt?"

The raw concern in his voice shattered her defenses.

Evelyn blinked.

Injury?

Then she remembered—the stumble during tonight's gala, the sharp pain she'd hidden beneath her gown.

Alexander's palm slid down her thigh with deliberate gentleness, stopping just above the concealed bruise.

"You think I wouldn't notice?" His thumb brushed the tender spot, making her gasp. "Every flinch. Every hesitation."

Her lips parted, but no words came.

The domineering CEO who commanded boardrooms with an iron will now cradled her like fragile glass.

The contradiction stole her breath.

"Always so stubborn," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. "My reckless wife."

The parking lot's fluorescent lights haloed his sharp features as he reached into the glove compartment.

A first-aid kit landed in his palm with a soft thud.

Evelyn's embarrassment flared anew.

He just wanted to treat my injury?

Alexander arched a brow at her crimson face. "What did you think I meant, Evelyn?"

The wicked glint in his eyes said he knew exactly what she'd assumed.

Her mortified groan echoed through the Bentley as he peeled back her stocking with surgeon-like precision.

"Next time," his breath warmed her inner knee, "scream if you're in pain."

The double entendre hung between them.

Somewhere beyond the tinted windows, a car alarm blared.

But in this suspended moment, there was only his touch, his scent, and the terrifying realization—

No locked door or crowded room could shield her from this man.

Not when he could unravel her with a glance.

Not when every wound, seen or unseen, called him like a beacon.

The antiseptic stung as he dabbed at her scrape.

Evelyn barely felt it.

Not with Alexander's other hand splayed possessively across her bare thigh.

Not with the promise in his whisper—

"We'll continue this at home."

Evelyn gasped in surprise.

Her mind raced. Is Alexander undressing me to examine my injury?

How does he know I'm hurt? I didn't even realize it myself.

Alexander pulled her gently against his chest.

A dark bruise stretched across her lower back where she had slammed into the curb. His fingers traced the tender skin with featherlight touches, his worry evident.

"Let me take you to a doctor," he murmured, voice soft but insistent.

Evelyn shook her head. "It's just a bruise. Nothing serious. Some ointment will do. No need for a doctor."

A teasing smirk curled his lips. "Why are you blushing so hard?"

Did you think I had other intentions?

Heat flooded her cheeks. Ugh, even if you know, don't say it out loud!

"I wasn't planning anything... but now..." His throat worked as he swallowed hard, his gaze darkening with unmistakable hunger.

The car was swallowed by shadows, the only light the silver glow of the moon illuminating their faces.

Alexander's unfinished words hung between them, thick with unspoken promise.

What on earth is he planning? Evelyn's thoughts raced as Alexander's warm breath fanned across her face, his intense gaze locking onto hers.

She found herself sprawled across his lap, her neck cradled in the crook of his arm. The position sent a shiver down her spine, her pulse quickening.

With deliberate slowness, Alexander lifted the hem of her blouse, his fingers tracing the tender skin of her injured waist. His touch was bold yet impossibly gentle, igniting a fiery tingle that spread through her lower back.

Evelyn's breath hitched, her mind flashing back to earlier that evening—when Alexander had pinned her to the bed, their bodies tangled in a fierce, desperate embrace. The memory alone made her skin flush.

His thumb brushed over a particularly sensitive spot, and she bit her lip to stifle a gasp.

This man…

He knew exactly what he was doing.

And she was utterly at his mercy.