8 Chapter 8
The scalding liquid should have made him cry out, lowered his gaze, his eyes full of apology, and said,
“My fault. I shouldn’t have assumed.
Blair, just tell me what you want to eat, okay?
I can make something else…
Or I’ll go buy it for you. Right now.”
1
t Alexander didn’t even flinch. He just
I ignored him, focusing all my attention on adjusting Nicholas’s suit and tie. Then, right in front of Alexander, I stood on my tiptoes and gave my husband a light kiss.
“Darling, once you’re done with work, come back early. I’ll be waiting right here for you so we can have dinner together.”
The moment the words left my mouth, Nicholas leaned down, wrapped an arm around my waist, and gave me a passionate kiss that nearly took my breath away.
For the past ten years, whenever I bustled about seeing Alexander off to work, I always hoped he would give me a hug.
But all I ever received were his looks of utter disdain and the way he would recoil, as if he couldn’t get away from me fast enough.
Back then, I would always foolishly console myself.
I’d tell myself that it was perfectly normal for someone as aloof as Alexander to dislike too much physical.contact.
Until two months ago, when I went to the office to deliver some urgent documents for Alexander.
Through the glass of the conference room, I saw Alexander comforting a distraught Madison, who had just botched a multi–million dollar deal.
Patting her head, holding her hand, wiping the cake crumbs from the corner of her lips… intimate little gestures… Alexander did them so effortlessly, so full of affection.
These
In the foyer of our apartment.
The moment–Nicholas and I finished kissing, he swept me up with one arm and carried me toward the home theater.
“Blair, I don’t want to go to the office anymore. For me, nothing in the world is more important than being with my wife.
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8 Chapter 8
Didn’t you say yesterday you wanted to watch Titanic again? We can watch it together.”
“Oh my God, darling, you’re the best.”
Lost in my flirting with Nicholas, I didn’t even notice when Alexander returned, silently piled the gifts he’d bought in the living room, and left with a shattered look on his face.
A week later, late at night.
I had just fallen asleep when I was jolted awake by a phone call.
The person on the other end was Ethan, Alexander’s best friend.
Ethan said:
“Blair, I don’t know what kind of trick you pulled to keep Madison from coming back with Alex, but now he’s drowning his sorrows every day because of it.
For old times‘ sake, I’m giving you some friendly advice. Alex still has a soft spot for you from your childhood days, so don’t be stupid enough to get between him and Madison.
If you push things too far, you’ll be the one who’s truly abandoned in the end.”
After a moment of silence, I asked him flatly,
“Is Alexander there? Put me on speaker. I want to talk to him.”
Hearing this, Ethan assumed I was about to give in and apologize.
He strode smugly into the private room, folding the phone up to a dejected, half–drunk Alexander while signaling with his eyes for everyone else to quiet down.
Before Alexander could even make out the number on the screen, I spoke, my voice as cold as ice.
“Alexander, I don’t know why you haven’t told your good–for–nothing friends the good news about my marriage, but since you won’t say it, I’ll tell them myself.
Ethan, and every last one of you, you’d better listen up.
I, Blair Turner, am officially married to Nicholas Knight–yes, the heir to the Knight Group.
So, no matter how madly in love Alexander and Madison are, or how inseparable they seem, that is entirely their business.
From this day forward, if any of you dare to bother me with their pathetic drama again, I will absolutely stop playing nice with you useless trust fund kids.
The moment I finished speaking, a deathly silence fell over the entire private room.
The day after that phone call.
C
B Chapter 8
Alexander started hounding me.
Whether I was going out for work or meeting friends, I would always spot Alexander’s conspicuous sports
car nearby.
The first couple of times, I had someone knock on his car window, silently motioning for him to leave.
As it happened more often, I began to treat him as if he were invisible, focusing solely on living my own life.
Until my birthday.
Alexander, who had been quiet and unobtrusive, appeared uninvited at Le Bernardin, the three–Michelin–star restaurant Nicholas had booked out for me.
