Chapter 7: Foundations

The land buzzed with life.

By the following week, construction had begun — a symphony of hammer strikes, shouted orders, and the whir of machines carving out a dream from the earth.

Lena stood at the edge of the site, hard hat perched awkwardly on her head, watching as men laid the first foundation stakes. A clipboard weighed down her hand, but her mind wasn't on measurements or timelines.

It was on Alexander.

And how impossibly different he seemed here.

Gone was the cold, unreachable billionaire.

Here, among dust and blueprints, he was a man stripped bare — sleeves rolled up, boots caked in mud, laughing easily with the foreman, pointing out beams and frames with the easy authority of someone who belonged to this place.

She loved seeing him like this.

It terrified her how much she loved it.

"Second guessing already?"

His voice, warm and teasing, brushed her ear.

She turned to find Alexander standing behind her, coffee in one hand, a mischievous smile tugging at his mouth.

"You're late," she said, schooling her features into mock sternness.

He handed her the coffee. "I'm the client. I'm allowed."

She tried to glare at him, but he winked — and her heart did that stupid, dangerous flutter.

"Come on," he said, jerking his head toward the site. "I want to show you something."

Together, they navigated the muddy field, sidestepping puddles and stacks of lumber.

He led her toward a corner where the skeleton of the house had started to take shape — beams rising like ribs, the outline of walls barely visible.

He pointed to a framed alcove near the front entrance.

"This," he said quietly, "is yours."

Lena blinked. "Mine?"

He nodded. "An office. A studio. A space that's yours whenever you need it. Always."

Emotion clogged her throat.

"You didn't have to—"

"I wanted to," Alexander interrupted, his gaze fierce. "You helped me dream again, Lena. You deserve to have a piece of it too."

She stared at him, this man who had every excuse to be selfish, offering pieces of himself with no strings attached.

And for the first time in days, she let herself believe.

Maybe they could really have this.

Maybe they were building something that could last.

Later, as dusk softened the edges of the world, Lena and Alexander sat side by side on the back of his battered truck, sipping lukewarm coffee and watching the workers pack up.

He brushed a strand of hair from her face, fingertips lingering.

"You belong here," he murmured.

"So do you," she whispered back.

Their kiss, when it came, was slow — the kind of kiss that wasn't just about want but need, about a thousand silent promises.

When they finally broke apart, breathless and tangled, Alexander rested his forehead against hers.

"I want you to know," he said, voice rough, "I'm all in."

Before Lena could answer, his phone buzzed harshly against the truck bed.

Alexander swore under his breath, checking the screen.

Lena caught the glimpse of the caller ID: Emilia.

The blonde woman.

The ghost from his past.

Alexander's jaw tightened.

"I have to take this," he said, already moving away, voice clipped and cold.

Lena wrapped her arms around herself, staring down at the dirt and gravel at her feet.

Reality, sharp and cruel, sliced through the warm cocoon they'd built.

He had a life she wasn't part of — secrets he still wasn't ready to share.

And no matter how much she wanted to pretend otherwise, dreams weren't built on love alone.

They needed trust.

They needed truth.

And somewhere deep down, Lena feared Alexander Kane wasn't ready to give her either.

That night, she sat alone at her tiny kitchen table, blueprints spread before her, untouched.

The coffee had long since gone cold.

Her heart was colder still.

She thought about the way Alexander had smiled at her today — the raw honesty in his eyes.

She thought about the name flashing across his phone — the tension that had slammed back into his body.

And she realized something gutting:

It wasn't that he didn't care.

It was that he was still trapped by things he wouldn't name.

Still chained to a past that could break them before they even began.

Lena dropped her head into her hands, overwhelmed by a sudden, aching helplessness.

She wanted to believe in him.

In them.

But trust wasn't just a blueprint.

It had to be built — carefully, brick by brick — or the whole house would collapse.

She just prayed they weren't already too late.