DASHIELL
Alexander stayed exactly where he was, his face tucked against my neck, his breath warm against my skin.
Most people would probably think he was being overly affectionate.
They would have been wrong.
This wasn't affection in the way most people understood it.
It was the way Alexander found his balance again after something disturbed the careful order inside his mind. The way some people paced or counted or took long walks to quiet their thoughts, he reached for me.
People spent so much time trying to make sense of psychopathy that they forgot something obvious. Different didn't mean emotionless. It simply meant emotions followed different rules.
His brain worked differently, just like mine did.
I'd learned a long time ago that when something weighed on him, he rarely talked about it straight away. He became quieter instead, and somehow even more intent on touching me, as though the simple certainty that I was there made everything else easier to ignore.
I understood that.
Just as he understood me.
I slid my fingers slowly into the hair at the nape of his neck, scratching lightly against his scalp the way I knew he liked. His shoulders eased beneath my hand, almost imperceptibly.
I did it again.
"I'm here," I murmured.
His arms tightened around my waist, not enough to hurt, just enough to draw me closer.
We stayed like that for another minute, neither of us in any hurry to move.
My eyes drifted to the velvet box still sitting on the desk.
"I don't like him," I admitted.
Alexander didn't lift his head.
"He makes my brain feel..." I searched for the right word. "...uneven."
That earned the faintest smile against my skin.
"Uneven?"
"I don't know how else to describe it." I shrugged carefully so I wouldn't disturb him. "He doesn't respect boundaries. I don't enjoy people like that."
Alexander's mouth brushed my neck.
"He knows that."
"He also shouldn't buy married people presents."
Alexander lifted his head just enough for our eyes to meet.
"Not my husband."
Silence settled comfortably between us again.
After a while I combed my fingers through his hair once more.
"You know..." I said quietly, "people think you're the one who takes care of me."
Alexander finally looked up.
"They're right."
"They're only half right."
One dark eyebrow lifted.
"You take care of me," I said, brushing my thumb lightly across the back of his neck, "but I take care of you too."
For a second, he simply watched me. Then his hand came up to cradle my cheek.
"I've had a very interesting case to study," I added quietly.
The corner of his mouth twitched. "Oh?"
"The patient is exceptionally intelligent," I said. "He also has terrible manners sometimes."
"I disagree."
"You would."
A soft laugh escaped him, and warmth spread through my chest at the sound.
"There," I said softly.
Alexander lifted his head a little. "There what?"
"That," I answered, smiling. "You laughed. You weren't doing that five minutes ago."
His thumb brushed across my cheek.
"No," he said quietly. "I wasn't."
"I'm glad you are now."
Something softened in his expression, subtle enough that anyone else would have missed it.
"I wasn't planning on letting you go anyway."
I smiled and settled back against him, listening to the slow, steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my ear.
"I wasn't asking you to."
****
The drive home was quiet, and I didn't mind. Alexander drove with one hand resting loosely on the steering wheel, sunlight slipping through the windshield and catching against the silver of his watch. His sleeves were rolled to his forearms, exposing the strong lines of muscle beneath lightly tanned skin.
I found myself looking again. There was something strangely satisfying about watching him drive.
Every movement looked effortless, from the way he steered with one hand to the smooth shift of gears. It wasn't something most people would notice. I always did.
He was objectively attractive. I wasn't sure how someone could spend half the day in an operating theatre and still look that good.
"You're staring," Alexander said without taking his eyes off the road.
I didn't bother denying it. "Yes."
"Why?"
I considered the question carefully. "You're aesthetically pleasing."
The corner of his mouth lifted. "That's one way to put it."
"It's the accurate way."
His smile grew a fraction.
"Keep looking, then," he said, voice low. "I like knowing your eyes are on me."
I blinked. That was… unexpected.
"You do?"
"Very much." His hand left the steering wheel for a moment and settled high on my thigh, fingers pressing firmly. "You never look away because you think you should. You look because you want to."
Heat rose in my face. "Iwas observing."
"Observing," he repeated, the word rolling off his tongue like it amused him. "Is that what we're calling it now?"
I opened my mouth, then closed it again.
Alexander glanced at me briefly, dark eyes gleaming.
"You're allowed to look, little anomaly. In fact…" His thumb stroked slowly along the inner seam of my trousers. "I'd prefer it if you did. I want you to notice me the way I notice every single thing about you."
My fingers started tapping against my knee.
"That's very intense," I said honestly.
"I know." He returned his full attention to the road, but his hand stayed exactly where it was. "You're married to a man who finds the way you stare at him more satisfying than most people find actual affection. Get used to it."
I swallowed, cheeks still warm.
"…Okay."
Alexander's low chuckle filled the car.
"Good boy."
The rest of the drive felt longer than usual. His hand never left my thigh, and I kept catching myself looking at him again—at the line of his jaw, the way his fingers flexed against the wheel, the calm certainty in his posture.
I was still looking.
And for once, I didn't feel the need to stop.
The moment the car stopped in the driveway, Alexander turned off the engine.
Before I could even reach for my seatbelt, his hand slid to the back of my neck and pulled me forward.
The kiss was not gentle.
His mouth claimed mine with an almost punishing force, tongue pushing past my lips as if he had every right to take whatever he wanted. I made a small, startled sound against him, fingers clutching at his shirt for balance. My brain stuttered, the careful order of thoughts scattering under the pressure of his mouth and the firm grip on my nape.
He kissed me like he was still proving a point—like Anthony's gift and the entire day needed to be erased from my senses and replaced with him.
When he finally pulled back, I was breathing harder than I should have been. My lips felt swollen and my thoughts felt slow.
"Alexander…" I managed, voice a little unsteady.
He brushed his thumb across my lower lip, eyes dark and satisfied.
"Now we can go inside."
I nodded, still trying to gather the scattered pieces of my concentration.
We got out of the car. Alexander's hand stayed at the small of my back as we walked up the steps. The front door opened before either of us could reach for the handle.
A familiar voice drifted out into the evening air.
"There you are. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten I was coming."
I froze.
Bianca.
My sister stood just inside the foyer, smiling as if this were the most natural visit in the world.
The static in my head, which had finally quieted during the drive, returned in a sharp, sudden wave.
I had completely forgotten.