CHAPTER 25

Xander's POV

She settles down on the chair and drops the bouquet of flowers on the table. For a few seconds, I stare at the flowers in annoyance. She doesn't like them. Carly asked me to get her flowers, and I did. But it's not the kind that she likes.

Once again, I'm reminded of the fact that I know next to nothing about my wife.

And that's not okay.

So, I'm annoyed at myself. And I'm struggling not to show it as I bite down on my lower lip, fisting my fingers into a ball fist. I don't like this.

I can't remember the last time I was in a relationship. Just kidding. Of course, I do. I certainly remember the last I was in a relationship.  That was years ago. I'm talking five years ago.

Daniella.

And she left me. Messily.

She was the first and only woman I was ever serious with but she left me. And now, I can't help thinking that every woman out there that shows interests in me only wants me for what I have. What I own.

But Alex…

She isn't like that. She won't even succumb to being someone she is not. Not for all the money and deals I offered to her. And getting her where I have her now hasn't been easy. Which is exactly why I have to remember that and not mess things up with her.

She might be the only real person in my life.

After my best friend and Carly, of course.

Alex shifts uncomfortably in her seat and I watch as she tug on her lower lip, nervously. It's a bit strange watching her this way especially as she is never quiet. Half of the time, she is shooting me sarcastic remarks and being fiesty with me.

When I continue to stare at her in silence while she fiddles with pouring herself her coffee, I notice the color coating her cheeks. And I realize why.

“Stop staring, Xander.” She chides, her firm voice uncharacteristically soft.

Unable to help myself, I chuckle out loud while she stops pouring herself coffee. She face palms which makes me laugh even more as her cheeks continues to tinge a pink color.

“Do you have a death wish?”

“Maybe,” I tease.

If it wasn't her first time, I probably won't understand why she is so shy and uncomfortable with me staring at her like that. But I don't want her to feel that way. The last two hours of our lives were the best I've ever had. Something infernal had snapped in me when I walked into the bathroom earlier and caught her gaze.

Something that had me shoving all my reasons out the window to claim this woman as my wife. Sexually.

“Are you offended that I don't like the flowers?” she asks as I take a bite of my bacon and eggs, enjoying my meal.

I watch her. “No. I'm just annoyed.”

She looks up from drinking her coffee to glare at me. “At me?” She questions, a shutter falling over her eyes to prepare herself from whatever I'm about to say which surprises me.

“No.” I shake my head, frowning. Taking a gulp of my coffee, I watch her again. She seems confused now.

“No. God, no. I'm just annoyed that I know next to nothing about someone I call my wife.”

“You don't just call me your wife, Xander. We are officially married now.” She tells me, a sad smile on her face.

“Which is why I have to know you. I barely know you. And honestly, I just thought that Roses would be a fit. They kind of remind me of you.” I explain.

“Really?” She shoots me a wild look.

“Yeah. You are beautiful but feisty. Prickly.” I explain quickly.

She looks stunned for a moment and I take the time to fill my belly. When she looks up again from biting into her sausages, I decide to hit the nail on the head.

“What kind of flowers are you into then?”

“Honestly, I love all kinds of flowers I guess. But red carnations have my heart.”

Her revelation stuns me into silence this time because I just wouldn't have guessed.

“You seem surprised,” she points out.

“I am surprised.”

When Alex puts away her mug of coffee this time, she stares at me for a few seconds in silence while I patiently wait for her to speak.

“So, here is the thing, Xander.” She begins, her voice prodding yet firm. “I'm married to you. And from what I know, even if I end up having a child in nine months, I still have to be here for three years. You are twenty-nine now. And if you manage to have a child by the time you are thirty, you are one step into inheriting what belongs to you.” She analyzes.

“Where are you going with all of these?”

“I'm saying that you are stuck with me for longer than a year. At most, four years. You have to be married for three years and have a child. And that is a very long time to live as strangers.” I open my mouth to speak but Alex raises a hand up to stop me.

“I really don't like fighting.” She rubs her arm as she turns slightly to stare at the city, the rays of the sun reflecting on her beautiful face. And I lost concentration for a few seconds, my thoughts skittering away at the sight of the view.

“And I certainly don't want to fight you. So we have to find a common ground. We have to be friends at the very least. Fake it till you make it.” She mutters.

“Fake it till we make it,” I amend as she stares at me again, smiling.

“But we can't be friends or find a common ground unless you diffuse whatever thought or imagination you had of me in your head.” She tells me.

“What do you mean?”

“I'm saying that I can't be someone I'm not. If I'm doing this as I already established that I am because we are married, I have to do this as myself. Because for fucks sake Xander, you still refer to me as Alex. And I am not Alex.”

I stare at her then, finally getting her point but all I can think of is how very intelligent she is. She is a great speaker. Weeks of bickering has made me oblivious to that but not anymore.

“Okay,” I nod, quietly. “I understand what you said. And I'm going to let whatever image of you I had in my head go. And I'm sorry.”

Exhaling, her shoulders drop with relief. “Good.” She tells me.

“Good,” I smile back.

Without a word, we begin to eat again. But this time, in a comfortable silence that is coated with fresh air and the rays of the sun shining on her stunning face, I can't resist staring.

*****

After making a spontaneous decision to not go to work after our breakfast, I spend the rest of the day working from my home office. After the third meeting of the day and an unbearable headache that has me taking a pause at work, I shut off my laptop and step out of the office.

Rubbing and soothingly massaging my head, I walk down the hallway watching as the maids scurry out of my paths all at once. I have a lot of them and I have lost count of the number of them. When I get up to the bedroom, Alexa is not in, which leaves me wondering where she is.

After taking off my suits which I had thrown on to attend the virtual meetings I have scheduled for the day, I hurry into the bathroom and take a quick shower. I had skipped lunch and now my stomach is groaning in protest.

When I step out of the bathroom moments later, Alexa is still not in. I throw on a few casual clothes and step out of the room. The first maid I see, I grab her attention immediately and she comes to me, nervous.

“Have you seen my wife?” I ask.

“Yes, Mr. Gold. She is in the kitchen with the others.” She mumbles, not meeting my gaze.

Nodding, I dismiss her and continue on my pursuit to find my wife because suddenly I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing in the house when she is not here. As I come by the kitchen, I notice her almost immediately.

She is invested in what she is doing so immensely that even when the maids around her notices me and start to act weirdly, she doesn't notice. It is only when she starts to bob her head slowly while humming that I realize she has airpods in her ears so she can't hear me.

Awe-struck by the sheer beauty of her invested in something I haven't for once pictured of my future wife and imaginative girlfriend, I stare at her. She is biting her lips in concentration and her palms are covered in flour. She seems at peace too and I just can't help noticing how free she looks humming to a song I know next to nothing about while she casually bakes treats.

I might have been standing by the entrance for more than twenty minutes when she finally looks up and sees me standing there. Her lips quirk in amusement and I can't resist not smiling back as I quietly urge the maids around to excuse us. Shutting the door to the kitchen, I slowly walk up to her.

“Hi,” I call quietly when I reach where she is standing.

“Hi,” she mumbles back. Her eyes roam over me quietly before she goes ahead to wash her hand in the sink. “Done with today's work?” She asks casually.

“Yeah. I was having a nasty headache,” I reveal.

Alex—Alexa turns toward me as she wipes her fingers clean.

“Sorry. Are you feeling better now?” she asks. When I nod, she nods back. “What are you doing here?”

“I was wondering where you were when I finished at the office. One of the maids told me that you were here.” I explain.

“Yeah, I am. I finally caved and decided to take over the kitchen. That's something, I guess.” She mumbles.

Nodding, she excuses herself when a timer goes off. I watch her take out a tray of freshly baked cookies that are very nose blinding. She puts fresh ones into the oven while I stand watching her. She sure is in her natural element.

“This looks pretty. Can I have a taste?” I ask her, my eyes on the freshly baked treats and so I don't see her freeze for a moment.

It is only when she takes too long to respond that I notice.

“Is something wrong?” I ask, my eyes darting over her pretty face for a second.

“Yes…uh, no.” She mumbles, confusing me.

“Alexa,” I call, taking a few steps forward.

“Maybe I should order you some food if you are hungry. Or maybe ask one of the maids to whip up something for you.” She suggests.

I frown. Does she not want me to taste her pastries?

“No. Why?” I prod.

When she bites her lower lips and averts her gaze from mine, I know this is serious.

“Alexa.” I call, softly. “We are friends now, aren't we?” I ask, referring to her earlier words.

“Yeah,” she nods.

“So then, you will tell me what's wrong? Always?” I push.

After a few seconds, she finally caves and looks at me.

“Okay, fine. Look, I was ignored a lot in culinary school. A lot of my teachers thought that I wasn't good enough. And even after I got a job, I only got around to do the lower jobs like prepping. So uhm, I kinda—”

“I get it,” I cut in before she can say more, especially as it feels like her eyes are starting to get glossy.

“I just want to have a taste. I'm hungry. I skipped lunch for a meeting. If for some reason, whatever reason, you think those cookies don't taste nice, let me change your mind. You made them after all.”

She sighs. And when she doesn't argue, I take a step forward to take one of the fresh out oven cookies. They are still very hot, but I don't mind as I shove it into my mouth while I watch my wife go rigid.

It's almost sad.