He lifted his head at last.
When his eyes met Sawyer’s, they were dark, shaken, and raw with emotion. His voice came out low, unsteady despite his effort to control it.
“Thank you for bringing these to me,” he said sincerely.
Sawyer’s gaze softened just a fraction. His voice dropped, heavy with concern.
“Mia is insecure,” he said plainly. “She doesn’t even trust that you’re going to stay in her life—that you won’t abandon her like James did.”
Alexander stiffened.
“She trusted him,” Sawyer continued, “and it ended in disaster. Then she trusted you. And yet she left your house and came to live at mine.”
His jaw tightened. “I don’t know what happened between you two, Alexander. But whatever it was…” he paused, his eyes sharpening, “…it hurt her more than she could bear.”
Sawyer stepped closer, his presence suddenly oppressive, his gaze boring straight into Alexander’s. “How do you expect her to stay with you? To fall in love with you—when she can’t even trust that your love won’t disappear once you get bored?”
The words hit harder than any accusation.
“If she leaves your house like that ever again,” Sawyer said quietly, “I’ll take her home with me and make sure she never goes back to you.”
Alexander’s chest tightened violently, his breath catching for a split second. His eyes lifted—grim, steady, and burning with resolve. “If there’s nothing else,” he said, his voice low and strained, “I’ll talk to you later. I want to go back to my wife.”
He didn’t wait for an answer.
He turned and strode upstairs, urgency written into every movement. Sawyer watched him for a moment—then turned and left the house without another word.
Alexander pushed open the bedroom door.
The bed was empty.
His gaze swept the room quickly before landing on the washroom door. Light spilled out from the crack beneath it. He exhaled slowly and waited, forcing himself to be still.
Moments passed.
Then the door opened.
Mia stepped out, fresh from the shower. Her skin glistened softly under the light, damp strands of hair clinging to her neck and shoulders. A towel was wrapped around her torso, barely reaching past her thighs.
She froze when she saw him.
Instinctively, she turned back toward the washroom.
But Alexander moved faster.
His hand closed around her wrist. “Where are you going?”
“To get dressed…” she said quickly, trying to pull away. “I’m not wearing anything!”
She pushed against his chest, but he didn’t let go.
He guided her to the edge of the bed and pressed her down gently. She sat there, confused, eyes wide, her towel clutched instinctively to her chest.
Alexander sank to his knees in front of her.
The movement startled her.
He leaned forward until his chest brushed against her knees, then wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. His face pressed against her stomach, his forehead resting there as he breathed her in.
