Scrooge

25. Alexander

25

ALEXANDER

I canceled on Logan. We were meant to meet for drinks tonight, but I wanted to take Haylee out instead. I don’t want to be without her. That kiss on Thanksgiving was a long time in the making, and now, after she has spent days at my penthouse with me, seen me at my most vulnerable, fed me soup, and slept next to me, I’m trying to figure out how I can get rid of this stupid agreement and just make her mine. I should feel bad for bailing on Logan, but I don’t. He will survive. He is probably already flirting with the poor, unsuspecting bartender at whatever bar he’s holed up at.

Taking her out tonight at least keeps her at the penthouse for another night. I had Laurent make us a reservation here as well as ship a new wardrobe all in her size to my place, no longer wanting her to run between mine and hers every time we have an occasion. And while being seen in public together is what we need to do, I didn’t invite her to dinner tonight because of that. I invited her because I am currently unable to let her go.

Instead, I am at Lucio’s, one of New York's most exclusive and expensive restaurants, with Haylee nervously pulling her ear at my side. She hasn’t done that in days, which almost makes me puff my chest that she clearly wasn’t anxious at my apartment. With me, she feels happy and safe. It’s being out like this, where her confidence wanes a little.

“It will fall off, you know,” I whisper to her, grinning, holding her hand in mine.

“You sound like my mom,” she murmurs before dropping her hand and smiling up at me with a crinkled nose.

“We have your table ready for you, sir,” the host says, and we follow him through the restaurant to the back.

“You look beautiful,” I tell her, knowing that she is somewhat uncomfortable with all the eyes on us. But it isn't a lie, she does. Wearing a dress that hugs her curvy frame, with her silky long dark hair falling around her shoulders, she is every man's wet dream. I let go of her hand and place mine on her lower back, just above her ass. The silky fabric slips against her skin, and I rub my thumb over the small of her back, itching to touch more of her. People look as we walk by, and I stand tall, proud to have her by my side. She is stunning.

“Thank you,” she breathes out, and I know she is trying hard not to grab her ear. That thought makes me smirk. As we take our seats, the host leaves us to it.

“I’m starving,” she says, opening the menu straightaway. It makes me chuckle.

“What? The chicken soup didn’t fill you up these past few days?” Even though Mary’s homemade soup was delicious and exactly what I needed, we’re both ready for a solid meal.

“Better than your grass food you ate today.” She’s referring to my usual lunchtime salad, something she had no interest in earlier.

“Hmm, it probably was,” I admit. The salad I had for lunch was barely filling enough.

“So is this the kind of place you bring dates?” she asks, looking around. The lights are low, but glittery. Soft music plays, and the gentle hum of conversation hangs around the room. I look around as well, seeing people dressed up like us in more formal attire, their diamonds glistening, the sound of cutlery on plates tinkering.

“I’ve been a few times.” I don’t lie. This is where I come. Predominantly because the food is good and the staff are professional. My privacy is always ensured, and now with the small media pack constantly following us, I appreciate that more than ever.

“Benny’s mozzarella sticks and corn dogs seem a little… adolescent now,” she murmurs, frowning ever-so-slightly. I lean forward and grab her hand on the table.

“I don’t know about that. What was it that you said at the soccer game? You have never met a corn dog that you didn’t like?” I remind her, and she smiles, which was my intent. I like seeing her smile. I like making her smile even more. I don’t know what has gotten into me, but ever since we started this whole charade, we have been getting closer.

“Are you ready to order?” the waiter asks, coming to our table. I nod to Haylee to go first, interested to hear what she’ll choose.

“I’ll have the steak. Medium, please.” she says, looking at me with an adorable smile. “I need the iron,” she adds, making my lips quirk.

“And you, sir?” he asks.

“A good choice, I will do the same. And grab us a bottle of your best Pinot,” I say, thinking a red will go well with our meal.

“Certainly.” He nods, taking our menus.

“Alexander. Good to see you,” a voice sounds at my side only a few seconds later, and I see Shaun Marshall approaching. From Boston, he is one of the leaders in his field of mergers and acquisitions. I stand, shaking his hand.

“Shaun. It’s been a while.”

“It has. You remember Scarlett?” he says, indicating his wife, who stands by his side. She is glamorous, Australian, if I remember, all blond and sun-kissed.

“Of course, nice to see you again. This is my fiancée, Haylee.” It feels good to introduce her as such. Haylee stands, smiling wide, shaking their hands like the perfect companion.

“Yes, I heard congratulations are in order?” He looks at me again, smiling.

“That is a lovely ring. Congratulations,” Scarlett says to Haylee, and I watch her beam at the compliment. We make a little small talk before we spot the waiter standing nearby with our wine.

“Well, we don’t want to interrupt your meal, but let’s catch up soon. I heard you are thinking of expanding into Asia. I have some contacts I can introduce you to,” Shaun says, and I nod, knowing he is well-connected.

“That would be great,” I tell him, and they take their leave as we sit back down. Once the waiter pours two glasses of red, we’re in our private bubble once again.

“Wow, they seemed nice,” Haylee comments.

“Does that surprise you?” I ask, grabbing my wine.

“It does. I thought all people who wore suits were a bit… stiff.” She chooses her words carefully. But it is too late. My mind goes directly to my dick, feeling thicker by the second as I watch her glossy red lips smirk.

“Some of us are, some of us aren’t.” Once upon a time, I was. I still am, but I’m defrosting. Slowly. And it feels good.

“Here’s to non-stiff suits,” Haylee says with a light laugh, lifting her glass toward me, and I clink my glass to hers.

“To non-stiff suits,” I murmur, taking a sip before I place my glass down, chuckling.

“So, expanding into Asia? Expanding what, exactly?” Haylee asks, and I lean back, relaxed. We haven't talked about my work much, and I am surprised she is taking an interest.

“I’m thinking of doing some developments over there. We have a good production schedule domestically, and the European office is making great strides. Mostly in London, but Asia is a market we haven’t ventured into yet,” I explain.

“Why haven’t you before now?” she asks, and I take in a deep breath. I wait for a beat, gathering my thoughts as I watch her sip her wine, the red coating her lips. It’s hard to not get lost in the vision of her.

“My father wanted to keep everything in the United States. Even having a European office, he wasn’t a fan of. But I wore him down, and it is where I cut my teeth, so he was happy that I managed that. Now that he is gone, I want to expand on his good work domestically and take a bigger footprint globally.”

“Make him proud?” she asks, and I pause. I don’t know how she does it, but she always seems to know things.

“I guess. In a way,” I tell her honestly, feeling a little vulnerable as I play with my wineglass. “He always strived for perfection. Always had goals and worked hard to meet them. His work, the business, it meant everything to him. I just want to keep up his good work. Make it just as successful, even though he is no longer here.”

“I think he would be very proud of you, Alex. I am.” Her gentle smile warms me from deep within. It means a lot to hear her say that. Like she can see the deepest parts of me. The fact that she is proud of me makes me feel like a fucking king, and I realize that I never want to let this woman down. I swallow another sip of red, needing the time to center myself.

“What about you? What are the plans for Tucker Toys?” I ask. She is a smart woman; I’m sure she has some plans, and I want her to share her visions with me.

“Well, if the local billionaire would get off our case and leave us alone, we plan to have an amazing holiday season, and then my parents are retiring.”

I tilt my head and smile. She is teasing me, but her words have remorse settling in my stomach. It puts all my business dealings into perspective, seeing how Tucker Toys is now struggling due to me putting up their rent to market rates. I don’t often think of my actions in this way, but I want her to succeed, in everything she does.

“Retiring?” I ask, as both her parents seem pretty young, so I am surprised.

“My dad had a mini stroke a few months ago. I guess they decided they wanted a life to enjoy, rather than be tied down to the shop. They have managed it for a few decades now and need a break.”

Retirement or slowing down was never something my father spoke about. It wasn’t part of his DNA.

“So you and Jillian will keep it going?” I ask.

“We want to. Business is slowing, I can feel it. The toy market isn’t what it used to be; we can all see that with kids on their phones a lot more. But it still brings so many people joy. I just don’t know what the evolution is, you know? I mean, most businesses can pivot, moving into a different stream or alternative space. I’m not tied to toys, even though the store has been in our family for years. I know Dad might be disappointed if we did something different, but I also know that he would just want my sister and me to be happy and successful.” She looks unsure, but it’s clear she has given this some thought.

“Does it bring you joy?” I have a feeling she’s working in the store because that’s the expectation, not something she wants.

“Yes. But… it’s all I have ever known,” she says as she takes a sip of wine, and I watch her swallow, following the movement down her throat before I look back at her.

“Sometimes, doing something for so long just because our parents did it, doesn’t always resonate for our success,” I say, thinking about the words as I say them, feeling the truth of them myself as well.

“I know.” She sighs, pursing her lips. Running her hand up and down the stem of the wineglass, she looks up at me. I lean over and grab her hand, entwining her fingers with mine. Rubbing my thumb over her knuckles, it’s a silent move to tell her she isn’t alone. She smiles at me, her glow brightening my whole world even more.

“What about your paintings?” I ask her, because I see how she lights up when talking about her artwork and how she was at the gallery. It really excited her.

“That’s just a hobby…” She brushes me off, but she has talent, even I can see that.

“Maybe it shouldn’t be,” I suggest, and I see her mind ticking over. She takes another sip of wine, not answering me. As her mouth curves around the glass, I shake my head. These thoughts are doing nothing but making me think things I shouldn’t be.

“You need to stop looking at me like that,” she whispers as she lowers her glass, looking at me from under her lashes.

“Like what?” I ask her, my heart thumping harder.

“Like you want to eat me whole. It will give a girl ideas…” she says with a playful lift of her eyebrow, and I smirk.

“Oh, I have had the same ideas for days now, Sunflower,” I tell her honestly, and her eyes widen as my nostrils flare, trying to drag in the air I need.

“Your steak, sir,” the waiter interrupts, delivering our meal, and I sit up straighter, clearing my throat as Haylee grabs her napkin. A cute pink tint colors her cheeks that makes me smile like a damn fool.

“You don’t have much art in your apartment,” she says, getting the topic back to safter ground as we both dig into our amazing meals.

“I don’t really see the point,” I tell her. I live my life simply. Mainly at the office, and I work from home on the weekends. I don’t need all the color and decorations. No one would ever see them. Well, until now.

“It would add some feeling to the space, a little more life,” she adds.

“Maybe. I do have a few pieces in my office.”

“I know, but the rest is empty. I left a pumpkin before Thanksgiving, but…” she trails off, shrugging, like she might think I got rid of it or something.

“The glittery pumpkin that sparkled on my coffee table. It was a nice touch.” Smirking, I think about the pumpkin that now sits on my shelf in my home office, something I didn’t want to throw out, liking having a bit of her in my space. She obviously appreciates my words as she smiles.

“Well, it was Thanksgiving, and you didn’t have anything in the house. Just be grateful that I didn’t bring over the stuffed turkey I have at the shop. That would’ve really delighted you, I’m sure,” she teases, and I laugh. If she brought it over, I would let her put it wherever she wants.

As I take another bite of steak, I see her look over my shoulder, and she pales instantly.

“You alright?” I ask, my stomach clenching, feeling something is amiss as she places her cutlery down on the plate like she’s finished. But she hasn’t; she still has over half her steak left, and I know she was starving when we arrived. I frown, turning to follow her line of sight, seeing a well-dressed man sitting down at a table with some other men. It looks like a business meeting and like they all came up from Wall Street.

“Who is that?” I ask her, turning back to face her.

“My ex,” she says as she swallows, clearly uncomfortable. I pause, not expecting that, and look back at him once more. He isn’t familiar and the way he presents himself, the way he moves around, indicates he’s a climber. New money, maybe. Too small to play in my game, but appears semi successful, nonetheless.

“When did you break up?” I ask, my stomach whirling. The jealousy that flows through my body almost instantly is new. An emotion I am not entirely sure how to deal with.

“About six months ago, after he almost broke my jaw,” she says quietly, and I still, my whole body tensing as my ears ring.

“What?” I ask, voice deepening, praying that I didn’t hear her correctly.

“Can we please go?” she asks, a little timidly, which is worlds different from her usual sassy personality. I don’t like it, not one bit. Lifting her napkin, she sets it beside her plate, indicating she is done.

“Go? No, that fucker can go,” I say, heating from the inside out with anger. Standing, I throw my napkin on my plate. Hands clenching, my jaw ticks. That fucking asshole hit her.

“Where are you going?” she whispers, grabbing my hand to get me to sit back down as the people at the tables nearest look at us.

“I’m going over to talk with him,” I state, standing tall. I might just break his motherfucking jaw while I’m there.

“Please, don't create a scene.” Her eyes almost plead with me as she holds my hand in both of hers.

“A scene? He hit you? He hurt you?” I whisper-hiss as I look down at her. My anger’s increasing by the second the more I think about it. How any man could hit a woman is beyond me, but now that I’m getting to know Haylee, I have no idea how anyone would even lay a finger on her. She is pure, sweet, sassy sunshine. A sunflower. My sunflower.

“Sit down. Please,” she begs, squeezing my hand to her chest. I feel her heart thumping through her skin on the back of my hand, and I look down at her, my own heart cracking at her desperate panic. Her breathing is rapid, her hands shaky in mine. Moving my hand to her face, I skim my knuckles over her cheek. “Okay. I’ll sit.” I take a breath and move back to my seat, not wanting to upset her further.

“Everything alright, sir?” The waiter comes over tentatively, noticing there’s an issue.

“No. I want to speak to the manager,” I demand, because if I can’t hurt him physically, I will get him banished and ruin his reputation. I need to call Laurent, get him on this issue, have this fucker tarnished in New York so no one will work with him again. The waiter scurries off, worried for his job.

“Alex.” Haylee commands my attention, and I look at her. “It’s fine. I’m fine. Let’s just go.” It is then it dawns on me that she is scared and that fucker needs to go immediately.

“Sir, how can I assist you this evening?” An older gentleman in a suit walks up to our table, and I stand, pressing a kiss to Haylee’s forehead, whispering against her, “I’ll be right back. Stay right here.”

“A quiet word,” I grit out to the older man, walking him over the side of the restaurant where I can talk with him privately while still making sure Haylee is safe. I watch her ex talk with his associates, the four of them with glasses of whiskey, knocking them back like they are at a frat house. I explain the situation to the manager, along with a few firm threats of closing his restaurant and bulldozing it to the ground, and he gives me a few panicked nods before he agrees. That fucker is going.

Walking back to Haylee, I sit down, swallowing some wine a lot more delicately than I feel. I’m angry as I watch the manager, accompanied by three security men, walk over to the table. There’s a quiet altercation as the men look around before her ex spots her. His lips thin, pure evil in his eyes before he glares at me, but then his eyes widen as recognition sinks in. He frowns, confused. He obviously hasn’t seen the gossip pages or stories about Haylee and me; otherwise, he wouldn’t look so surprised.

“What did you do?” she asks me softly, and I turn to look at her as he and his associates are quietly escorted out of the premises to the murmurs of all the diners nearby.

“I had him removed.” Holding her hand again on the table, I need to feel her and ensure she is alright. The move settles us both, even though I want to follow him out and fucking prove my point with my hand against his jaw.

“Removed? You can do that?” she asks, wide-eyed, shock, surprise, and a range of emotions I probably couldn’t begin to understand flittering across her face.

“I can and I did. I might be known as Scrooge, but I will protect you, Haylee, with everything I have,” I tell her, meaning every word. I’m serious. There’s no way in hell any danger is going to come to this woman.

“Alex?” she whispers, swallowing roughly as she looks into my eyes. I can see the question there. It’s the same one I’ve already thought of myself.

“Haylee, agreement or no agreement, I’ve got you,” I say without a flicker of doubt, and she takes in a breath, like she’s relieved.

“And I’ve got you,” she, says, nodding, her eyes never leaving mine.

It’s in this moment, I think we’re both realizing, we’re all in.

* * *

Leaving a handsome tip, I keep Haylee close as we leave, my hand now sliding into the comfortable spot around her waist, like it was always meant to be there. After finishing our red wine, we both declined dessert, our night shaded by her ex turning up. Although, she is still smiling, even if it is a little more subdued than normal.

“Thank you, Alex. This was really nice,” she says as we step outside. The fresh air is immediate, and I pull her closer as she tucks into my side. I need to stifle the urge I have to kiss the top of her head, because I do it so often, I’m sure she is getting sick of it.

“Liar,” I murmur to her, smiling before I relent, and my lips meet her hair and I breathe in the sweet scent of her shampoo. She huffs a laugh at me. I know she would prefer Benny’s or maybe somewhere more casual, and I have no problem with dates like that as long as they are with her. But she also deserves the very best. I think she would have enjoyed tonight if things went differently.

My cell rings, and I grab it from my pocket as we start walking down the sidewalk to Dan, who is waiting at the car nearby.

I see it’s Logan. And I ignore the call. He’s a clingy bastard.

“Hey.” I hear a male voice and turn quickly as a fist flies in my direction, but I duck just in time.

“Oh my God! Jaryd!” I hear Haylee shriek. “What are you doing?” The asshole tried to punch me from behind like a coward, tried to catch me off guard. I am fuming, but then I see his hand gripping her upper arm and her trying to pry it off, and I’m filled with rage.

“Get your fucking hands off her,” I grit out, striding forward. All I see is red as my fist connects with his chin. He stumbles back, Haylee flying to the side and out of his grip, almost tripping on her heels. My fist stings like a motherfucker, and I shake it out as I step toward him, positioning myself in front of Haylee. I don’t want him to touch her. I don’t even want him to look at her.

“You punched me? I’m going to sue you.” He spits a bit of blood on the sidewalk as security, mine and the restaurant’s, come running. He looks pitiful, his shirt now untucked, a dribble of blood running down his chin. I loom over him so he knows exactly how this power dynamic works.

“Do it. It would be fun,” I seethe, knowing that there are cameras all around here, plus witnesses. Grinding my teeth, I flex my hand, wanting to hit him again. I’m not usually violent; I can’t remember the last time I hit someone. It was probably in college, maybe even high school during a football game. It has never been on a New York street in front of the media. It’s out of character for me.

Flashes go off, catching my attention as men grab him by the arms. Haylee reaches for me, her hand holding mine, cold and shaking.

“Sir,” Dan says, indicating to get to the car, and I pull Haylee along.

“Handle it,” I tell my security team, who all nod and get to work calling in the police, while others go into the restaurant to secure the footage.

More flashes go off right in my face, and I close the car door just as Dan starts to drive like a madman.

“I’m so sorry,” Haylee says in a rush, looking at me like she’s begging for forgiveness.

“Sorry?” I ask as I grab my cell, needing to call Laurent, because this is going to go viral in a matter of minutes.

“I should’ve told you. I should’ve left the restaurant.” She shakes her head like she is disappointed in her actions, her voice panicked, still laced with fear.

“You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. That asshole put his hands on you.” I’m still angry, my body tense, and her thinking this is in any way her fault has me wanting another go at her ex.

“But now the media are going to throw this everywhere. They are already talking so much rubbish about you and Deloris. God, he is such an asshole.” Her head falls into her hands before she lifts it again and starts rubbing her arm. I lean over, grabbing her wrist gently and lifting her arm into the light. It is red, already swelling, a slight purple tinge starting to appear.

“I'm fine,” she says, pulling it out of my grasp, placing her hand over the top of it. My anger swirls deeper at this man having the nerve to touch her again, to hurt her. I have to take deep breaths to calm myself as Dan drives us quickly through the streets. Paparazzi are following, this game of cat and mouse starting to become our new normal.

“Just so we’re clear, Sunflower. That is not fine,” I tell her, shifting to face her.

“I understand if you want to end the contract. Tucker Toys can find another building,” she says, almost resigned.

“No, we’re not ending the contract. Tell me what he did to you. How someone could do that to you.” I’m trying to keep my voice level, but with the way she’s still looking uneasy, I don’t think I’m hiding my frustrations very well. When she starts tugging at her ear, I lower my tone, trying again as I say simply, “Please, just tell me.”

“You want me to tell you that he didn’t like the fact I painted, and when I didn’t stop, he took his fist to my face and left me bloody and bruised for not doing what I was told,” she says, her voice trembling. I blanche, stomach sinking. I didn’t think I could get more upset than I just was, but I was dead wrong.

“What?” is all I can ask, making sure I understand correctly. But I know I did.

“I’m sorry, I should have told you about my baggage. I should have made sure you knew th—”

“He hit you because of you were painting?” I stop her from her rambling and unnecessary apology, bewildered. A man should never hit a woman, at all. But over her hobby? A hobby that she is extremely good at? I can’t wrap my mind around it.

“Y-yes. I had a few people show interest. Much like what happened at Maddison Miller Gallery. I saw it as my break. An opportunity to try to make it a career, maybe? I don’t know. But he said no. He told me I was not to do that. He wanted me to be home when he got home, not doing gallery openings or painting all weekend. He wanted to keep me small, didn’t want me to grow and become more. The next thing I knew, I was in the hospital.” She sits back with a heavy breath, almost exhausted, the fight leaving her.

“Hospital. That fucking piece of shit.”

“I'm sorry, Alex. I should have told you before we started this thing…”

“This thing?” I ask, eyes narrowing.

“Our agreement.”

“This has nothing to do with the fucking agreement.” For someone trying to keep my cool, I’m failing miserably.

“Why are you so angry, then?” she fires back at me, and I take comfort in the fact that she’s coming back to the woman I’ve come to know. This is my sunflower.

“Because he put his hands on you! He touched what’s mine!” I say too loudly, my tone too harsh, but I need her to understand. She’s quiet for a beat, the two of us looking at each other as the outside goes dark. That lets me know we’re now heading into the basement parking garage at my penthouse.

“I am not yours, Alex!” she yells back at me, the two of us getting heated in the back seat, poor Dan no doubt hearing it all, even though the privacy screen is up.

“You were mine the minute you called me a dickwad,” I admit, before I move in quickly. With one hand, I cup her jaw and the other grabs her waist as I slide her across the leather seat. My lips crash onto hers in an instant. I try to go slow, but her mouth opens, welcoming me, and I take the opportunity, wanting to show her how I feel. Her hands smooth up my chest, before they loop around my neck, pulling my head closer and lighting me up inside. Running my hand down her side to her ass, I grip her curves, wanting to lift her off the seat and into my lap. Her thighs move, and she releases a little moan as I pull her leg across mine so she’s straddling me.

“Alex…” she whispers, as I grab her ass with both hands and pull her onto me so she can feel exactly how much I want her. My dick is hard, fucking throbbing and aching for her. When she moans again, I know I need to slow down before we end up doing more than kiss with Dan in the front seat. She feels amazing in my arms, perched on my lap, and pulling back, I press another kiss to her lips, then her cheek, as I run my hand across her hip and down her leg to meet her skin, which is now exposed due her dress riding up when she straddled me.

“I want you to stay with me tonight,” I say, my fingers moving higher and higher up her leg, pushing the material higher with my touch. “Here at the penthouse.” I hit the top of her thigh. “In my bed.” I swallow thickly. I watch her, her eyes staring into mine as my fingers coast along the top of her thigh to her center. When I hit her underwear, my jaw tenses as my mouth waters, feeling her warm and wet. I hear her sharp intake of breath as I connect with her underwear, and I run my finger up and down slowly, craving to touch her, but refraining. At least for the moment.

“I want that too,” she says breathily, just as the car stops, and we are out the door in seconds.