The car door slammed open, the sharp crack slicing through the stillness of the quiet street.
Fallyn stepped out, her hair shimmering in the glow of the late streetlights, a sly curve dancing at the corners of her lips.
“Hey sis,” she murmured, her voice a soft tease, effortless and deliberate, as if she had stepped straight out of a story written just for the night.
But the air shifted the moment Alexander’s shadow fell across her.
“Ain’t you cold?” His voice snapped like a whip, each word sharp enough to cut through the lingering warmth around her.
“Why would you step out without a coat?”
Fallyn’s heart twisted with irritation as she shot Alexander a covert glare, her annoyance flaring the moment her gaze brushed Fiona.
Across from her, Fiona’s brows knitted tightly, irritation simmering in her eyes as she struggled to keep it contained.
“It’s spring,” Fiona said, her voice light but defiant, a hint of stubborn pride in the way she lifted her chin.
“The cold’s got nothing on me.”
Alexander’s eyes narrowed, sharp and unwavering.
“But it’s chilly tonight,” he said again, his words carrying more than concern an edge that made the air between them taut, like a wire stretched to its limit.
Before Fiona could reply, Fallyn’s voice cut through, calm, almost lazy but laced with an unmistakable undertone that made hearts stumble.
“Uh… actually, Alex just came a few minutes ago,” she said smoothly, each word measured.
“He asked after you. I knew you’d arrive sooner, so I had to keep him company.”
The words fell like silk over steel, soft but deliberate, sending a shiver neither cold nor spring could explain.
Fiona felt the quiet pull of tension threading through the night, the invisible triangle forming between them.
And Alexander; his gaze lingered, sharp, unreadable, as if he were weighing more than her words, sensing a subtle game in motion.
Fiona spun toward Alexander, feigning surprise, her eyes wide, lips parting just enough to make it believable.
“Why wait? You should’ve called me on the phone,” she said, the faintest edge of accusation threading her words while
Alexander ran a hand through his hair, his jaw tightening for just a moment before his voice came, calm but carefully measured.
“Uh my phone was out of coverage,” he said, masking the flicker of hesitation that he hoped she wouldn’t notice.
Fallyn’s gaze lingered on them for a moment longer, her lips curling into a sly, knowing smile.
“Alright, I’ll just go in now and leave you both to it,” she said, nodding toward their apartment before turning and walking away, the soft click of her fluffy slippers echoing like a gentle punctuation in the quiet night.
Alexander exhaled slowly, his shoulders easing as he turned to Fiona.
“Let’s go sit inside,” he muttered, his voice low, almost intimate, carrying a weight that made the night feel suddenly smaller, hotter, and impossibly charged.
“Nope,” Fiona declared, striding toward the front of the car, her voice teasing but firm.
“Let’s sit here at the front. At least you brought a car today not a Jeep. Easier to sit on.”
Alexander stepped forward instinctively, a hand reaching toward her, but it was too late.
“Ouch!” Fiona exclaimed, a sharp note of surprise in her voice as her palm pressed against the car’s hood.
The heat hit her instantly.
The engine had been running for hours, and the metal radiated a relentless warmth.
She sprang back instinctively, a flicker of discomfort crossing her features but her stance remained bold, defiant, unshaken.
Even the heat, even Alexander’s concerned gaze, could not diminish the teasing spark in her eyes.
Alexander’s chest tightened at the sight.
The glow from the car reflected in her eyes, teasing, fearless, and frustratingly captivating.
‘Always so stubborn, so impossibly alive,’ he thought, the warmth of the hood and the night mingling with a heat that had nothing to do with the engine.
“Sorry.”
For a moment, he held her there as if grounding her in place.
Then they moved.
Slowly, deliberately, they slid down her back, tracing every line of her as though he were memorizing her, checking or perhaps searching for something unseen.
Each motion was intentional, heavy with a tension that tightened the air between them.
Fiona’s breath caught.
Too close.
Too intimate.
Her pulse spiked violently the moment his hands drifted lower too low.
She froze.
Her heart missed a beat, then slammed back into motion like it was trying to break free of her chest.
Shock rippled through her in a sharp wave, snapping something inside her.
And instinct took over.
With a sudden surge of strength, she shoved him back.
Hard.
Her eyes lifted instantly burning, defiant, unyielding.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” she screamed, her voice sharp, fierce, echoing against the quiet night.
Alexander’s eyes widened in panic, his hands shooting to his head as if to erase the moment.
“Oh God, I didn’t mean to—! I wasn’t trying to grab your a$$! I just… I just wanted to see if you were hurt!”
For a brief, suspended second, the world seemed to hold its breath.
Her glare burned into him, fiery and unforgiving, while his panic-stricken expression teetered between guilt and desperation.
A flicker of realization suddenly fractured across Fiona’s expression.
“If you just got here a few minutes ago how is the engine so hot?” she asked, suspicion sharpening her tone.
Alexander’s laugh came a beat too quickly, a little too loud, as if trying to mask something.
“Come on, I’ve been driving around all day,” he said, voice casual but edged with a nervous rhythm.
“And I drove down here, too,” he added quickly, forcing a laugh.
“Keep the engine running from the few minutes you arrive.”
His words hung between them, too smooth, too rehearsed Fiona caught it, the tiny tremor of guilt in his tone.
Her gaze narrowed slightly, but before she could press further, he reached out, taking her hand with surprising gentleness.
“C’mon,” he murmured, his fingers curling around hers with a possessive warmth that sent her pulse skipping.
He guided her to the back of the car, each step deliberate, careful, yet charged with something neither dared name.
They sank onto the hood together, the metal beneath them cool and unyielding, pressing against their bodies like a quiet reminder of the world around them yet in that small space, it felt theirs alone.
“How are your palms?” he asked.
His blue eyes pierced hers, unrelenting, drawing her in as if he could read every thought she tried to hide.
They roamed over the sharp planes of her cheekbones, the delicate slope of her nose, and the soft arch of her brows that framed those impossible emerald-green eyes.
Beneath them, subtle flecks of gold shimmered along her cheeks, catching the light with every breath, lending her an almost ethereal glow.
Under his gaze, her eyes seemed to flare brighter, reflecting shadows and glimmers of the night, and a shiver ran through her a tremor she could neither control nor resist. New chapters come out on novelping . com first.
Every subtle movement of her face, the tilt of her chin, the quickening of her breath, was suspended in the electric tension between them.
“You know you placed it on top,” he murmured, his voice low but sharp, each word pressing against her like a pulse echoing in her chest.
Instinctively, she stretched her hands forward to check.
But the moment Alexander caught hers in his, her attention snapped back to him.
Their gazes collided, his piercing eyes searching hers with an almost tangible weight.
For an instant, Manson’s amber-gold eyes flashed unbidden across her mind, jolting her senses.
Startled, she snatched her hands away and slid down from where she had been seated, her body suddenly taut with an unfamiliar, electric awareness.
“Uhh… I think I should rest. I’m kind of exhausted,” she muttered, her voice barely steady, betraying the fluttering in her chest.
Alexander stepped down beside her, calm but deliberately close.
“Sure you do need your rest,” he said, his hands casually tucked into his pockets, but the weight in his gaze lingered.
“Sweet dreams. I’ll text you tomorrow.”
“Yeah bye,” she replied, forcing a smile, and turned to walk away.
Her steps quickened, restless, uneven as if she were trying to outrun her own thoughts.
A scoff slipped past her lips, low and sharp.
“Why the hell is that bastard in my head?”
She let out a quiet, mocking laugh, shaking her head.
“I mean… sure, he’s handsome. And those eyes—like they’re set on fire…”
Her lips curled, half annoyed, half betraying her.
“Damn it. Of all people… he should be the last one I’m thinking about.”
Her heart thumped against her ribs as if echoing the words she tried to bury.
Every step, every fleeting memory of him, felt like sparks igniting across her senses.
And she knew unwillingly that he was far from gone, his presence still flickering in the corners of her thoughts like a dangerous, irresistible flame.
Meanwhile, Alexander leaned casually against the car, hands buried deep in his pockets, a slow, knowing smirk playing at the corner of his lips.
There was no rush in him only certainty.
“Still very much in love with me, huh?” he drawled, voice smooth and teasing, dripping with effortless confidence.
“I don’t even have to try… you’re already hooked.”
A low chuckle left him as his gaze lingered ahead, amused and unbothered.
“Damn it, Alex…” he murmured to himself with a proud, almost arrogant ease.
“You really are a bad guy.”
He slid into the car, the door clicking shut behind him.
His hand hovered over the ignition.
Then stopped.
Silence pressed in.
A single thought echoed through his mind slow, unsettling, impossible to ignore.
‘What if that Mr.
Manson is more charming than me?’
His eyes darkened.