The next morning felt too normal for what happened last night.

I woke up early, too early, replaying the look on Alexander’s face when he watched me walk to my door.

Not cold.

Not irritated.

Just… focused.

Like he wasn’t supposed to be looking, but couldn’t stop himself.

I tried to shake it off while getting ready for work, but my brain had no intentions of cooperating.

Because in the shower, I remembered him standing up for me at the gala.

How he stared at me while ...