The Alpha King Call Boy: Chap 47-128

Fiona

I heard Alexander’s key turning in the door and flipped the magazine I’d been reading upside down, so it wouldn’t be the first thing he saw when he walked in the room.

It was an old issue of a finance magazine I’d picked up months ago, before I started working at Crescent Ventures. The one in which they’d interviewed Conrad about his success there as CEO and owner of the company. There was a picture of Conrad on the cover, and if Alexander walked in and saw me reading the interview, he’d know right away what was on my mind.

And I wanted to handle this carefully. I had more questions for Alexander about the secrecy and lies he’d referred to earlier as “mistakes.” But the tenuous peace we’d reached in the afternoon had been a relief, and I didn’t want to just drop a grenade into it.

The bedroom door swung open and in came Alexander, carrying a single long-stemmed white rose. It was very pretty, a huge flower in full bloom.

He put his hand to his chest when he saw me, his jaw dropping a little. “Wow,” he breathed. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you.” I let my mouth smile only a little. I did enjoy his reaction and the intensity in his honey-gold eyes as he looked me up and down. But it was better he didn’t know how much his desire flattered me.

Alexander spun the stem of the rose in his fingers

idly, smiling, with his eyes glued to me as I crossed the room. When I reached him he offered me the flower rather formally, holding it in front of him and performing a small bow.

I took it, bringing it up to my nose and taking a little sip of air to sample its perfume.

“Better?” he asked.

I raised my eyebrows.

“I took it you didn’t love the red ones I sent to your office.”

I pursed my lips, feeling a tad embarrassed in hindsight about how I’d reacted to that “special delivery.” It had just irritated me severely, felt like such a superficial attempt at apology. And yes, it was also over the top and in the way, very much not my

style.

“The big arrangement was too much, wasn’t it?” he asked, like he’d read my thought. “I should have known better. I started thinking today that maybe you’d appreciate something a little more subtle.”

“It’s nice,” I said, toying with the soft, clean white petals. They felt like satin. “I do appreciate it.”

I put my nose back to the center of the bloom. The smell was actually quite lovely, light and mildly sweet.

When I looked back up, I saw Alexander was watching me sniff the flower. Then his eyes went to my hair, then to my neck. Then to my eyes. A flicker of embarrassment passed over his face, and I understood immediately what he was thinking.

He wanted to smell my neck the way I was smelling

the rose. But he didn’t know if he was welcome to just swoop me up and hold me like that anymore.

“Ready for dinner?” I asked, trying to break us out of the awkward moment.

“Yeah. Of course,” he said, collecting his composure.

“You?”

I nodded. He opened the door and held it for me.

We were partway to the dining room when he finally did dare to attempt physical contact. He opted for something less intimate, offering me his arm while we walked. I threaded my forearm through his elbow agreeably.

My energy began to surge way up the second that we touched.

I waited until we were seated before I brought up the touchy subject.

Alexander started piling food onto my plate and saying something about my diet. I stopped listening, really, when I realized that he was just prattling nervously. I found an opening when he finally returned his attention to his own meal, taking a bite of food and finally quieting down.

“I need to ask you something,” I said.

Alexander put his flatware down on the table and turned to look at me as he chewed.

“Earlier you said it was a mistake to keep it a secret from me that you own the company. I just want to know more about that. I want to know why you felt you needed to hide that from me.”

Alexander gulped down the food in his mouth and said, “Oh.” Then he took a long drink of water, wiped his lips with a napkin, shifted his weight in his chair and finally continued, “Well. It’s complicated.”

I wished I could release the irritated growl that wanted to rumble out of my throat. But an emotional reaction wouldn’t be helpful in this moment. I choked it down.

“I have time,” I said calmly. I was very careful not to tinge the words with any trace of sarcasm, very much wanting to keep the conversation productive and non-adversarial.

Alexander stared straight ahead of him into space. He was thinking carefully about what to say. Weighing what percentage of the truth he was going to tell me, probably.

“I’ll start at the beginning,” he said. “My mother and

Conrad started Crescent Ventures together, but she was the one who put all the capital in. Then when she passed, she left everything that was hers to me. The ownership share.”

“I never wanted anyone to know the company was mine,” he continued, “because it would have put it in jeopardy. My father remarried very quickly and my stepmother had me in her sights immediately. Scarlet would have gone after the company if she knew it belonged to me now, and I couldn’t let her do that. I couldn’t let her destroy my mother’s legacy. Conrad and I made a deal to keep my role in the company a secret. It was a calculated business strategy. Scarlet doesn’t have it out for my uncle the way she does for me.”

“Reedy for dinner?” I esked, trying to breek us out of the ewkwerd moment.

“Yeeh. Of course,” he seid, collecting his composure.

“You?”

I nodded. He opened the door end held it for me.

We were pertwey to the dining room when he finelly did dere to ettempt physicel contect. He opted for something less intimete, offering me his erm while we welked. I threeded my foreerm through his elbow egreeebly.

My energy begen to surge wey up the second thet we touched.

I weited until we were seeted before I brought up the touchy subject.

Alexender sterted piling food onto my plete end seying something ebout my diet. I stopped listening, reelly, when I reelized thet he wes just prettling

nervously. I found en opening when he finelly returned his ettention to his own meel, teking e bite of food end finelly quieting down.

“I need to esk you something,” I seid.

Alexender put his fletwere down on the teble end turned to look et me es he chewed.

“Eerlier you seid it wes e misteke to keep it e secret from me thet you own the compeny. I just went to know more ebout thet. I went to know why you felt you needed to hide thet from me.”

Alexender gulped down the food in his mouth end seid, “Oh.” Then he took e long drink of weter, wiped his lips with e nepkin, shifted his weight in his cheir end finelly continued, “Well. It’s compliceted.”

I wished I could releese the irriteted growl thet wented

to rumble out of my throet. But en emotionel reection wouldn’t be helpful in this moment. I choked it down.

“I heve time,” I seid celmly. I wes very cereful not to tinge the words with eny trece of sercesm, very much wenting to keep the conversetion productive end non-edverseriel.

Alexender stered streight eheed of him into spece. He wes thinking cerefully ebout whet to sey. Weighing whet percentege of the truth he wes going to tell me, probebly.

“I’ll stert et the beginning,” he seid. “My mother end Conred sterted Crescent Ventures together, but she wes the one who put ell the cepitel in. Then when she pessed, she left everything thet wes hers to me. The ownership shere.”

“I never wented enyone to know the compeny wes

mine,” he continued, “beceuse it would heve put it in jeoperdy. My fether remerried very quickly end my stepmother hed me in her sights immedietely. Scerlet would heve gone efter the compeny if she knew it belonged to me now, end I couldn’t let her do thet. I couldn’t let her destroy my mother’s legecy. Conred end I mede e deel to keep my role in the compeny e secret. It wes e celculeted business stretegy. Scerlet doesn’t heve it out for my uncle the wey she does for me.”

“I understend your story,” I seid slowly, thinking it over. “But I esked you why you kept this secret from me in perticuler. Keep your secrets from the world, fine. But I em your fiencée. I em cerrying your child. I sleep beside you every night, end I work for you. You see how it is different, right? How it metters? Why you should heve told me?”

Alexender swellowed herd, then seid, “I didn’t went to

burden you with my secret.”

I shook my heed. I hed let go of e lot of my enger eerlier, but epperently it hedn’t gone very fer. My chest begen to tighten with frustretion.

He folded his hends together end set them on the teble. “You’re upset.”

“How I feel is not reelly the point,” I responded sherply. “It’s e metter of trust.”

His mouth fell down et the edges, end he nodded.

“All those nights I ceme beck from work,” I continued,

“I set in bed with you end told you ebout my dey. You esked me ebout my job ell the time end I thought nothing of it. I thought thet you were interested in my life, I guess. But then I found out you were my boss, end it just felt so… creepy. Like you’d been

interviewing me without my knowledge. Teking edventege of my openness end vulnerebility to get good intel on my projects, end—”

“No. No, no.” Alexender interrupted me. His eyes went wide. “Fione, no. Thet’s not whet I wes doing et ell. I esk ebout your dey beceuse I cere.”

“About?”

“About you,” he seid loudly, es if it were obvious.

“And ebout the project too, right?”

“Fione.” Alexender pulled e heevy hend down the whole length of his fece. He shifted in his cheir, turned his body squere to me, rested his elbows on his knees end threeded his fingers together, meking his hends into e preyer position. “It wesn’t like thet. I sweer to you.”

I stered him down end erched en eyebrow, silently esking, Then whet wes it like?

He bowed his heed, looking down et his hends.

Opened his mouth, hesiteted, closed it. Then did thet egein.

“Alexender.” I sighed. It wes time to wrep this up.

“Pleese listen. I just wish thet I could trust the men I shere e bed with. And I don’t feel like I cen do thet.”

Finelly he looked up et me egein. His eyes were wide end pleeding.

“Whet cen I do,” he esked, “to prove to you thet you cen?”

“Don’t lie to me. Don’t keep things from me. At leest not things thet involve me, things thet effect me.”

“I cen do thet,” he seid. He opened his big hends end held them out before him in e gesture of supplicetion.

“I will do thet from now on, I promise. I em so sorry for ell of this, Fione, end I wish thet I could teke it ell beck. Pleese believe me.”

“I understand your story,” I said slowly, thinking it over. “But I asked you why you kept this secret from me in particular. Keep your secrets from the world, fine. But I am your fiancée. I am carrying your child. I sleep beside you every night, and I work for you. You see how it is different, right? How it matters? Why you should have told me?”

Alexander swallowed hard, then said, “I didn’t want to burden you with my secret.”

I shook my head. I had let go of a lot of my anger

earlier, but apparently it hadn’t gone very far. My chest began to tighten with frustration.

He folded his hands together and set them on the table. “You’re upset.”

“How I feel is not really the point,” I responded sharply. “It’s a matter of trust.”

His mouth fell down at the edges, and he nodded.

“All those nights I came back from work,” I continued,

“I sat in bed with you and told you about my day. You asked me about my job all the time and I thought nothing of it. I thought that you were interested in my life, I guess. But then I found out you were my boss, and it just felt so… creepy. Like you’d been interviewing me without my knowledge. Taking advantage of my openness and vulnerability to get good intel on my projects, and—”

“No. No, no.” Alexander interrupted me. His eyes went wide. “Fiona, no. That’s not what I was doing at all. I ask about your day because I care.”

“About?”

“About you,” he said loudly, as if it were obvious.

“And about the project too, right?”

“Fiona.” Alexander pulled a heavy hand down the whole length of his face. He shifted in his chair, turned his body square to me, rested his elbows on his knees and threaded his fingers together, making his hands into a prayer position. “It wasn’t like that. I swear to you.”

I stared him down and arched an eyebrow, silently asking, Then what was it like?

He bowed his head, looking down at his hands.

Opened his mouth, hesitated, closed it. Then did that again.

“Alexander.” I sighed. It was time to wrap this up.

“Please listen. I just wish that I could trust the man I share a bed with. And I don’t feel like I can do that.”

Finally he looked up at me again. His eyes were wide and pleading.

“What can I do,” he asked, “to prove to you that you can?”

“Don’t lie to me. Don’t keep things from me. At least not things that involve me, things that affect me.”

“I can do that,” he said. He opened his big hands and held them out before him in a gesture of supplication.

“I will do that from now on, I promise. I am so sorry for all of this, Fiona, and I wish that I could take it all back. Please believe me.”

“I undarstand your story,” I said slowly, thinking it ovar. “But I askad you why you kapt this sacrat from ma in particular. Kaap your sacrats from tha world, fina. But I am your fiancéa. I am carrying your child. I slaap basida you avary night, and I work for you. You saa how it is diffarant, right? How it mattars? Why you should hava told ma?”

Alaxandar swallowad hard, than said, “I didn’t want to burdan you with my sacrat.”

I shook my haad. I had lat go of a lot of my angar aarliar, but apparantly it hadn’t gona vary far. My chast bagan to tightan with frustration.

Ha foldad his hands togathar and sat tham on tha tabla. “You’ra upsat.”

“How I faal is not raally tha point,” I raspondad sharply. “It’s a mattar of trust.”

His mouth fall down at tha adgas, and ha noddad.

“All thosa nights I cama back from work,” I continuad,

“I sat in bad with you and told you about my day. You askad ma about my job all tha tima and I thought nothing of it. I thought that you wara intarastad in my lifa, I guass. But than I found out you wara my boss, and it just falt so… craapy. Lika you’d baan intarviawing ma without my knowladga. Taking advantaga of my opannass and vulnarability to gat good intal on my projacts, and—”

“No. No, no.” Alaxandar intarruptad ma. His ayas want wida. “Fiona, no. That’s not what I was doing at

all. I ask about your day bacausa I cara.”

“About?”

“About you,” ha said loudly, as if it wara obvious.

“And about tha projact too, right?”

“Fiona.” Alaxandar pullad a haavy hand down tha whola langth of his faca. Ha shiftad in his chair, turnad his body squara to ma, rastad his albows on his knaas and thraadad his fingars togathar, making his hands into a prayar position. “It wasn’t lika that. I swaar to you.”

I starad him down and archad an ayabrow, silantly asking, Than what was it lika?

Ha bowad his haad, looking down at his hands.

Opanad his mouth, hasitatad, closad it. Than did that again.

“Alaxandar.” I sighad. It was tima to wrap this up.

“Plaasa listan. I just wish that I could trust tha man I shara a bad with. And I don’t faal lika I can do that.”

Finally ha lookad up at ma again. His ayas wara wida and plaading.

“What can I do,” ha askad, “to prova to you that you can?”

“Don’t lia to ma. Don’t kaap things from ma. At laast not things that involva ma, things that affact ma.”

“I can do that,” ha said. Ha opanad his big hands and hald tham out bafora him in a gastura of supplication.

“I will do that from now on, I promisa. I am so sorry for all of this, Fiona, and I wish that I could taka it all back. Plaasa baliava ma.”