“I’m good.Great, actually.”I catch sight of myself in the mirror across from the bed and freeze.
Oh, my god.
My neck looks like I lost a fight with a vacuum cleaner.Dark purple marks trail from just below my ear down to my collarbone, and there’s another cluster disappearing beneath the collar of Alexander’s T-shirt I had pulled on at some point in the night.
“I hope my son isn’t overworking you,” Victoria says, and my mind immediately flashes to three in the morning when I’d gotten up for water.I’d barely made it back to bed before Alexander had pulled me down onto the mattress, his hands everywhere, his mouth hot against my throat.The way he’d folded me in half and whispered filthy things in my ear as he’d fucked me into the bed.
I choke on air.“No!Not at all.He’s—” My voice comes out strangled, my face burning.“He’s great.Very...considerate.”
Why did I say considerate?What is wrong with me?
Victoria laughs, a knowing sound that makes me want to sink into the mattress and disappear.“I’m glad to hear it.I’ll let you go, dear.I’m sure I’ll see you soon.”
The call ends before I can respond, and I drop the phone like it’s burned me.
I flop back onto the pillows, staring at the ceiling.His mother.I just talked to his mother while wearing his shirt and sporting a neck full of hickeys like some kind of territorial marking.
And where the hell is Alexander, anyway?
I drag myself out of bed, my body protesting with every movement.My back aches, my thighs are bruised, and there’s a pleasant soreness between my legs that makes me flush all over again.Considerate, my ass.Alexander Castellano is many things, but gentle wasn’t on the list last night.Not that I’m complaining.
I pull on leggings and a sweater—one with a high collar, thank god—and pad downstairs.It’s barely past eight, and the morning sky is gray and heavy with clouds threatening more snow.The house smells like fresh coffee and butter, and I can hear the faint strains of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” playing from the kitchen radio.
Mom is at the stove, humming along as she flips pancakes.
“Morning, sweetheart.”She beams at me.“Sleep well?”
I sit at the kitchen table.“Why aren’t you at the shop?”
“We’re opening at ten till New Year’s.How was your night?”
“Fine” I mumble.“How was yours?”
She laughs.“Your father and I got in at six in the morning.”
My jaw drops.“What?What were you doing all night?”
Mom blushes.“Well, we got a little drunk, so we stayed overnight at Harper’s.Very embarrassing, honestly.I kept telling her one of us should stay sober, and she kept topping off my glass.”
“Well as long as you had fun.”I look around.“Where is Dad?And Alexander?”
“They went to pick up some groceries.”
“Groceries?”I blink, surprised.“At eight in the morning?But he forgot his phone.”
“We forgot to get chicken for dinner tonight, so Alexander offered to help pick some things up.They took the BMW.” My mother beams at me.“Your dad really likes spending time with him.”
I pour myself coffee, warmth spreading through my chest at the thought.“Yeah, I’ve noticed.”
“Your Alexander is such a lovely young man,” Mom says, plating a stack of pancakes shaped like snowmen.“He’s so thoughtful and considerate.”
Considerate.There’s that word again.I take a long sip of coffee, thinking about how my back hurts and muttering under my breath, “He’s considerate, alright.”
Mom doesn’t hear me—or maybe she does and chooses to ignore it—because she continues; “Your father is over the moon.I think he’s going to cry when you two go back to the city.”
I look up laughing, “Cry?Really, Mom?”
Her smile softens.“Your father is getting old, Olivia.He doesn’t like to show it, but...this is the first time I’ve seen him depend on somebody like this.Lean on them.He’s treating Alexander like a son.He adores you girls, but he’s excited about having Alexander around.”
