Chapter 14

SCARED OF FEELING

~LAUREN'S POV~

I could practically hear my heartbeat as I forced my gaze to stay fixed on the plate of food sitting in front of me. The mashed potatoes sat untouched, a smudge of gravy trailing down the side, but the rest of the dish looked foreign.

Some kind of meat—roast, maybe?—and vegetables I couldn't quite place.

Was this even what I ordered?

My brow furrowed as I poked at the food with my fork, lifting my eyes just slightly to catch Alexandro staring at me.

He didn't bother looking away when I met his gaze.

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, suddenly too aware of the low murmurs floating around the restaurant. The hushed whispers, the stolen glances—especially from the women seated nearby.

I cleared my throat and lifted my glass of wine, pretending not to notice. "Seems like you're pretty well-known around here," I said, letting the words roll off casually.

Alexandro leaned back in his chair, that ever-present smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"I wouldn't say it's just the ladies here," he replied, his voice full of smug satisfaction. "I'd say it's women everywhere."

I lowered my glass, raising an eyebrow at him. "Is that supposed to be something to brag about?"

His smirk deepened. "It would be for you—if you had every man in the room vying for your attention."

The way he said it, so nonchalantly, made me grip my fork a little tighter.

He picked up his wineglass, swirling the deep red liquid before taking a slow sip. As he set it down, his gaze flickered to the side, locking onto a woman seated a few tables away.

She'd been staring at him, and when his lips curled just slightly in her direction, she giggled like some love-struck teenager.

My grip tightened further.

I hated that sound. I hated the way she smiled at him. And most of all, I hated how irrationally jealous it made me feel.

Jealous?

I took a long, slow breath. "Seriously?"

"Being a playboy isn't exactly an achievement," I muttered, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

Alexandro's gaze shifted back to me, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Was that supposed to be under your breath?"

I looked away, stabbing the roasted vegetable on my plate a little harder than necessary. "I meant for you to hear it," I shot back, though my voice didn't carry as much heat as I intended.

"Hmm." He leaned forward slightly, resting his chin in his palm as he studied me. "You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you sound... jealous."

I rolled my eyes. "Jealous of what? Watching women fall over themselves for a man who can't go five minutes without flirting?"

"Careful, love. I might start thinking you care."

I opened my mouth to argue but stopped when I caught sight of Patrick through the restaurant window. He was still outside, lingering as if he couldn't quite bring himself to leave.

His eyes flickered toward our table, his frown deepening when he saw Alexandro leaning in closer.

Alexandro noticed too.

His smirk widened.

"On second thought," he mused, his voice dropping lower, "maybe you should be jealous. Your ex doesn't seem to like what he's seeing."

I stiffened, casting a glance toward the window again. Patrick's gaze lingered for a beat longer before he turned away, his shoulders tense as Rosette tugged at his arm.

I exhaled slowly, placing my fork down on the edge of the plate.

"It's not about Patrick," I said softly, though the words didn't even convince me.

Alexandro's hand brushed over mine, his fingers tracing along the stem of my wineglass. "Then prove it," he murmured, locking eyes with me.

I could feel the weight of his stare, the challenge lingering just beneath the surface.

"What exactly do you want me to do?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

He shrugged, leaning back again with that infuriating smirk. "Relax. Enjoy dinner. Let the poor man stew outside a little longer."

I shook my head, reaching for my wine again. "You're impossible."

"And you're still sitting here."

He wasn't wrong. The atmosphere between us changed and felt heavier and quieter.

The soft sound of silverware clinking and quiet conversations filled the restaurant, but they seemed distant compared to how intense Alexandro's gaze was.

He leaned back in his chair, watching me with that same unnerving focus, his thumb trailing lazily over the rim of his glass.

His green eyes glinted with mischief, but there was something else there—something that made me feel like I was wavering on the edge of dangerous ground.

"So," he began, breaking the silence, "how did you end up with him?"

I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question. "Who?"

"Patrick," Alexandro said, swirling his wine slowly. "The ex. The one who can't seem to stop glaring at me through the window."

My eyes flicked involuntarily toward the glass, but Patrick was gone now, no longer lingering by the restaurant entrance. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, shifting uncomfortably.

"It wasn't like that," I replied, keeping my gaze on the table. "Patrick… wasn't always the guy you saw back there. He used to be different. Sweet. Supportive. Funny."

"Doesn't sound like the man I met."

I frowned slightly, running my finger over the condensation on my glass. "People change, Alexandro."

"And sometimes they don't," he countered smoothly, resting his chin in his palm. "You believe he just flipped a switch one day and became a jerk?"

I hesitated. "No. I think… I think somewhere along the line, we just stopped being enough for each other. Maybe it was gradual, maybe it wasn't. But it didn't happen overnight."

Alexandro watched me for a moment, his eyes softening just a little. "Still. His loss."

The casual way he said it made something flutter unexpectedly in my chest. I swallowed, lowering my gaze.

"Well, it doesn't matter now, does it?" I muttered. "Patrick moved on. I'm here. With you."

He grinned at that, his smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth like he'd won some invisible game. "Exactly. Because I own you now."

I shot him a look. "That part? Not funny."

His eyes gleamed with amusement. "Oh, but it is. And it's true."

I scoffed. "You don't own me, Alexandro. This whole thing—" I gestured vaguely between us "—is fake. Remember?"

"Details," he replied with a dismissive wave of his hand.

I rolled my eyes. "You seriously need to let go of that ego."

Instead of responding, he leaned forward slightly, murmuring something low and soft in Italian.

"Se tu vuoi che ti ami, fa' che ti brami.(If you want me to love you, let me crave you.)"

His voice dropped like silk, the words brushing over me like a caress I wasn't prepared for. I froze, my fork hovering above my plate.

"What… was that?"

Alexandro's smirk deepened. "Homework."

I raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me." He took another sip of wine, eyes gleaming. "You'll have to figure out what it means. Consider it an assignment."

I stared at him, incredulous. "You're joking."

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"You always look like you're joking."

His laugh was low, rumbling in his chest. For the first time since I met him, it didn't feel like he was using it as a weapon. There was no hidden sarcasm or arrogance laced into it. It was real. Sincere.

I caught the faint glimpse of a dimple just as he set his glass down, and something about that made my stomach flip in ways I couldn't explain.

How could someone be this irritating and still look like that?

"You're unbelievable," I muttered, taking another sip of my wine, hoping it would somehow drown out whatever ridiculous feelings were starting to surface.

"Thank you," he said smoothly as if it were the highest compliment.

I rolled my eyes again but couldn't stop the small twitch of my lips.

"Fine," I said after a beat, setting my glass down. "I'll look it up. But if it's something inappropriate, I swear—"

"Oh, it's inappropriate," Alexandro cut in, flashing me a wicked grin.

I narrowed my eyes at him, but he only raised his glass in silent toast.

As much as I hated to admit it, there was something… oddly charming about this side of him. The teasing, the banter—it made me forget if only for a moment, the chaos that surrounded us.

"Alright, Mr. Ego. Since we're on the topic of exes, let me ask you something." I rested my chin on my hand, mirroring his posture.

"What about you? Surely there's a long list of women out there who've been wrapped around your finger."

Alexandro's smirk faltered for just a second.

"No time for women," he said casually, but there was something clipped in his tone. "They're a distraction."

I raised an eyebrow, sensing the shift. "A distraction from what?"

He shrugged, but this time it wasn't as effortless as before. "Life. Work. Everything else."

I leaned back, letting his words settle. It was the first time I'd seen him hesitate like that, even for a moment.

The confidence was still there, but there was something else too. Something guarded.

I opened my mouth to press further, but Alexandro's gaze flickered past me toward the restaurant entrance.

His smirk returned, but it wasn't for me.

"Patrick's back," he murmured, his voice dark with amusement.

I turned just in time to see Patrick standing near the entrance with Rosette. His eyes found mine for half a second before Rosette tugged him toward the opposite side of the restaurant.

When I faced Alexandro again, he was watching me carefully, his expression unreadable.

"Let him look," Alexandro said quietly. "You're mine tonight."

I didn't respond. I couldn't.

Because the part that scared me most was that, for once, I wasn't sure if he was pretending anymore.