CHAPTER 3

A Small Crack in the Glass

Alex Blackwood was a mystery.

I had known it from the beginning, felt it in the way he spoke, in the way his eyes darkened when certain topics came up. But I had ignored it, blinded by the way he made me feel—like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

Now, I wasn't so sure.

His penthouse was sleek and modern, just like him. Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across the living room, offering a breathtaking view of the city below. Everything was polished—glass, steel, leather furniture that looked untouched.

But tonight, it wasn't the view that caught my attention. It was Alex.

He stood in the next room, his back to me, phone pressed to his ear. His voice was low, sharp.

"No. That's not what we agreed on."

A pause. His jaw tightened.

"I don't care. Fix it."

Another silence. Then a slow exhale.

"I'll handle it myself."

I watched as he ended the call, running a hand through his hair. Something about the way he moved felt different tonight. Tense. Distracted.

When he turned and saw me watching, his expression shifted in an instant. The serious businessman was gone, replaced by the charming man I had fallen for.

"Sorry about that." He walked over, pressing a soft kiss on my forehead. "Work."

I forced a smile. "You always seem to be handling something."

His lips twitched. "That's my job."

I tilted my head, studying him. "And what exactly is your job, Alex?"

For a second, just a second, something flickered in his eyes. Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

"I own businesses," he said smoothly. "Investments, real estate. A little of everything."

It was an answer, but not really.

I leaned back against the couch, running my fingers along the edge of my wine glass. "You never talk about your past."

He smiled, but it felt… practiced. "Why look back when the future is right here?"

I laughed lightly, but inside, something twisted. "Still, I'd like to know the man I'm falling for."

He reached for my hand, lacing our fingers together. "Then let's talk about Paris next weekend."

Just like that, he had changed the subject.

I should have let it go.

I almost did.

But something inside me—some quiet, persistent voice—wouldn't let me.

---

Later that night, as I lay in his bed, I listened to the steady sound of his breathing. His arm was draped over my waist, his body warm against mine, but my mind was restless.

Who was Alex Blackwood?

I had seen glimpses—the romantic, the protector, the man who could make me forget everything with just a look. But there were shadows in him, too. A guardedness I couldn't quite reach.

I turned slightly, watching him in the dim light. His face was peaceful, but even in sleep, there was a tension in his features.

What was he hiding?

---

The next morning, I woke to an empty bed.

I found him in the kitchen, already dressed, a cup of coffee in his hand. He looked up as I entered, his expression unreadable.

"Morning," he said.

I leaned against the counter, studying him. "You left early."

"Had some things to take care of."

Another vague answer. Another wall between us.

I exhaled slowly. "Alex…"

He set his coffee down. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Look at me like I'm about to disappear."

His words hit something deep inside me. "Should I be worried?"

His jaw tightened. "No."

But he didn't say anything else.

And that silence spoke louder than anything.

---

A week passed.

Paris never happened.

Something came up, Alex said. Business. A situation he had to deal with.

I told myself it was fine, that I wasn't the kind of woman who needed grand gestures or fancy trips.

But it wasn't about Paris.

It was about the way he pulled away when I got too close. The way his phone calls always ended the second I walked into the room. The way he could make me feel like I was his whole world one moment and a stranger the next.

One evening, after another canceled dinner, I sat alone in my apartment, staring at my phone.

I could call him. I could demand answers.

But something told me that if Alex had secrets, he wouldn't give them up so easily.

So I did the one thing I never thought I'd do.

I decided to find them myself.

---

The next day, I went to his office.

The building was sleek, all glass and steel, just like everything else in his life. The receptionist greeted me with a polite smile, but there was something guarded in her eyes when I said I was there to see Alex.

"Mr. Blackwood is in a meeting."

I returned her smile, keeping my voice light. "That's fine. I'll wait."

She hesitated, as if unsure of what to say next. Then, finally, she nodded. "Of course."

I sat in the lobby, watching the people who moved in and out. They were all sharp-dressed, serious, efficient. And none of them looked like the kind of people who worked in simple investments.

Something wasn't right.

After nearly an hour, I was about to give up when I heard a familiar voice.

I turned just in time to see Alex walking out of a private elevator, deep in conversation with another man.

It wasn't his presence that made my stomach twist. It was the look on his face.

Gone was the smooth, charming man who had whispered promises in my ear. This Alex was cold. Focused. Almost dangerous.

Then, as if sensing me, he looked up.

His entire body went still.

For a moment, neither of us moved.

Then he was walking toward me, his expression unreadable. "Sophia. What are you doing here?"

I stood slowly, my heart pounding. "I could ask you the same thing."

His jaw clenched. "We'll talk in private."

He took my hand, guiding me toward the elevator. But as the doors closed behind us, I knew something had changed.

A small crack had formed in the perfect glass of Alex Blackwood.

And I was about to find out what was hiding beneath it.