Chapter 38 – Vanilla scent
ATHENA
~
“I really don’t want to be here.” I protest.
Alex doesn’t even glance at me as he adjusts his cufflinks, his green eyes scanning the racetrack. “It’s just for two hours. We’ll go home soon. I couldn’t reschedule this.”
I cross my arms, shifting uncomfortably in the wooden seat. The air is thick with the scent of freshly cut grass, leather, and expensive cologne. The cheers of the crowd rise and fall as another race begins, hooves pounding against the dirt track like a drumbeat.
I couldn’t care less.
The only thing I want is to go home.
Alex, however, sits perfectly composed beside me, looking every bit the powerful billionaire he is. I must say I did wonder how an orphan girl like me landed auch a man, but I’ve been too scared to ask.
We have a dinner coming up where I’m supposed to meet his grandmother, and I’m a nerve wreck.
It’s been a week since that incident, and even though I’ve been wanting to get some sun, this wasn’t how I envisioned it.
“You could’ve left me at home,” I mutter, my fingers tightening around the glass of water in my lap.
Alex finally looks at me, his expression unreadable. “No.”
One word. No explanation.
Another thing I’ve come to learn about Alex is that he’s extremely hot but also very annoying.
I exhale sharply, turning my gaze to the track. Another race is starting, the announcer’s voice booming through the speakers.
A group of thoroughbreds burst out of the gates, their jockeys leaning forward, urging them faster.
The crowd roars.
I don’t react.
Because the only thing I can focus on is Alex.
Or rather, how he’s been acting these past few days.
He hasn’t left the house.
He’s been working from home, his laptop always within reach, but his eyes constantly flicking toward me like he’s expecting me to collapse at any moment.
Every ten minutes, without fail, he finds a reason to check on me.
Do you need anything?
Are you hungry?
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Are you tired?
Are you cold?
The first few times, I thought it was a coincidence. But then I realized that he’s been watching me. Monitoring me.
Like I might disappear if he looks away for too long.
And now, here we are, sitting in the VIP section of a horse race, pretending everything is normal.
Alex adjusts his watch, his fingers brushing against my wrist as he does.
It’s subtle. Barely noticeable.
But I know better.
Because that touch throws all the senses out the window, and I hold my breath, every hair on my body rising in excitement.
I glance at him from the corner of my eye. Trying to sound as normal as possible.
“You don’t have to babysit me, you know.” I blurt out.
His jaw tightens slightly, but his voice remains calm. “I’m not babysitting you.”
I huff, turning back to the race. “Could’ve fooled me.”
His hand rests on my thigh. A casual touch. Light. But firm enough to keep me still.
It’s a good thing I wore a suit, too. Otherwise, his hand on my bare skin would throw me off.
Sometimes, I wonder if he feels even a slight shiver when we are so close to each other.
I swallow hard.
A man approaches, dressed in a crisp navy suit, his salt–and–pepper hair neatly combed back.
“Alexander King. The man of the hour!” he greets with a firm handshake, his gaze briefly flicking to me.
“And who is this beautiful woman?” He asks with that smile that looks painted on.
“My personal doctor.” He says dismissively.
My heart splits into two.
“Really? Then you wouldn’t mind if I borrowed her, would you? I seem to have some medical issues lately.” He flashes him another one of his sick smiles.
He is testing him.
I should be hurt by his brutal rejection, but something about the way this man looks at me unsettles me, and suddenly, I’m grateful he didn’t sell me out.
“I’m sure you know better than that. Mr. Brown.” Alex responds flatly.
A
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Chapter 38–Vanilla scent
His eyes are dancing with flames and daring him to ask again.
“Mr.
. Brown is too distant, we are close friends Alex. You can call me Arnold you know,”
Arnold chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. His eyes stay on Alex, hard with challenge, waiting to see if he’ll crack.
Arnold looks like he’s in his late forties with too much gel in his hair. It’s unsettling.
“I don’t know,” Arnold muses, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “You never used to mind sharing before.”
Alex’s fingers flex slightly against my thigh. It’s the only sign that Arnold has managed to push a button. But his face remains unreadable, cold.
“You must be confusing me with someone else,” Alex says smoothly. “I don’t share what’s mine. Especially with you.”
Arnold’s lips curl at the edges, but the amusement doesn’t reach his eyes. “Is that so? That’s quite possessive for a mere doctor.”
“Must be the blood running in my veins.” He responds.
Arnold presses his lips into a thin line. Like that sentence is a code for a threat. It’s a reminder, and though it sounds arrogant, I couldn’t imagine it being more than a sassy response.
But this is Alex we’re talking about. He never gives out empty words.
A long silence stretches between them. It’s suffocating, thick with tension I don’t quite understand.
Alex doesn’t blink.
Arnold doesn’t blink.
Something unsaid passes between them, something heavy. A warning. A threat.
Finally, Arnold exhales a quiet laugh and raises his hands in surrender.
“Relax, King. I was just making conversation.”
Alex doesn’t respond. He just watches as Arnold takes a slow sip of his drink, like a man who has all the time in the world.
Then Arnold turns his attention back to me, his expression shifting. He studies me, like he’s trying to figure something out.
“I must say,” he murmurs, tilting his head, “you remind me of someone.”
I stiffen, but before I can react, his voice cuts through the moment.
“Ah, the beautiful and talented Dr. Woods.”
Arnold’s eyes light up with something I don’t recognize as he smiles past me.
I turn my head and freeze.
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A woman stands there, poised and elegant, dressed in a soft champagne–colored dress that hugs her slender frame.
“Her blonde hair falls in waves over one shoulder, and her brown eyes give me a once over before shifting
to Arnold.
She smiles at Arnold politely. “I’m doing well, thank you.”
Arnold nods, pleased. “I heard you and Alex are bound to get married since you have returned. Invite me when that time comes,”
“Mr. Brown. Please.” The woman in question brushes him off, but the way she says it, like she’s edging him to go on.
Silence.
I don’t move.
I don’t breathe.
I wait for Alex to say something. To deny it. To correct him.
But he doesn’t.
He says nothing.
As she moves closer, I can smell flowers and the unmistakable scent of vanilla.
The same shower gel he used on me.
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