Chapter 8

Alexander stood frozen, his gaze locked on the woman before him.

Alice was completely exposed, her skin flushed pink from the hot bath. Her damp, short hair clung messily to her face, droplets of water still glistening on her cheeks. The steam from the bathroom curled around her, making her appear almost ethereal—and utterly vulnerable.

She trembled under his stare, her arms instinctively crossing over herself, though it did little to hide her.

Alexander wasn’t much better. His tall, muscular frame was barely concealed by the towel slung low around his waist. His bronzed skin, broad shoulders, and the faint scars along his arms only emphasized his raw, commanding presence.

When Alice’s eyes landed on those scars, her breath hitched. Fear prickled through her, but so did something else—embarrassment, shame.

She fumbled for the bathrobe, her hands shaking so badly she could barely grip it.

“I—I thought you weren’t coming back,” she stammered, her teeth chattering. “Why… why did you?”

She finally managed to yank the robe on, only to realize it was far too big—his robe. The hem pooled at her feet, nearly tripping her as she tried to step away.

Then, disaster struck.

Her foot caught on the fabric, and she pitched forward with a sharp gasp.

Alexander moved instantly, his arm snapping out to catch her before she hit the floor.

The moment she was pressed against him, a familiar scent filled his senses—something soft, warm, intoxicating. His eyes fluttered shut as he inhaled deeply, his lips brushing the damp skin of her neck.

Alice stiffened. “Let me go!”

The sharpness of her voice snapped him back to reality.

“Damn it,” he growled.

He snatched a towel and wrapped it tightly around her before scooping her up. Without a word, he carried her to the guest bedroom and dumped her unceremoniously onto the bed.

The door slammed shut behind him.

Alice curled into a tight ball, her face burning with humiliation.

Why didn’t I push him away?

Alice Carter, have you lost your mind?

He despises you. You’re just an ex-convict carrying another man’s child. He would never want you.

She barely slept that night.

By morning, the penthouse was empty. Relieved, she scribbled a note on the nearest notepad:

Mr. Knight, I apologize for last night. I assumed you wouldn’t return, and I overstepped by using your bathroom. Let’s pretend it never happened.

She left before she could second-guess herself.

At the hospital, Margaret’s knowing smile made Alice’s stomach twist.

“You’re up early,” Margaret teased. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

Alice groaned. “Mom, please.”

Margaret’s eyes sparkled. “So? How was it?”

“Fine,” Alice muttered, burying her face in Margaret’s shoulder.

Margaret chuckled. “You two are perfect for each other. I knew it. Just wait—I’ll give you the wedding of your dreams.”

Alice forced a smile.

It was all a lie.

But Margaret’s kindness? That was real.

After spending the morning with her, Alice slipped out once Margaret dozed off.

She needed a job.

Then, she saw it—a flyer at the bus stop.

[Hiring: Architectural Assistant]

Her heart leapt.

She had studied architecture before her arrest. Margaret, an accomplished designer herself, had even mentored her in prison.

But who would hire an ex-convict? A pregnant one, at that?

Still, she sketched a few designs, had them scanned, and sent them off.

As she finished, her phone rang.

An unknown number.

“Hello?”

“Alice.” The voice dripped with smug satisfaction.

Victoria.

Alice’s grip tightened. “How did you get this number?”

Victoria laughed. “Please. If I can find where you live, your number is nothing.”

“What do you want?”

“I’m feeling generous today. Come by the Sullivan Estate around five. You can have your mother’s pictures.”

The sudden sweetness set off alarms, but Alice didn’t care. She just wanted those photos.

By five, she was standing in the Sullivan foyer, glaring at Olivia.

“Where are they?”

Olivia smirked. “So impatient. Sit. Stay awhile.”

“No thanks.”

Olivia’s smile turned sharp. “Oh? Too good for us now? Found yourself a rich husband?”

Alice lifted her chin. “Actually, yes. One who makes your family look like peasants.”

Olivia’s face darkened.

Then, from behind her—

“Prove it.”

Alice turned.

Victoria stood in the doorway.

And beside her?

Alexander.