Chapter 251
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Chapter 251
Madison
We strolled leisurely, stopping occasionally to watch street performers: a mime creating impossible shapes with his body, a string quartet playing classical renditions of pop songs, and a magician performing card tricks that defied explanation.
“Wait here,” Alexander said suddenly, disappearing into a shop before I could respond.
I leaned against a column, watching the bustling crowd. Tourists mingled with locals, everyone seemingly caught up in the energy of the place. A few minutes later, Alexander returned with a small bag.
“What’s that?” I asked suspiciously.
“A souvenir.” He handed me the bag. “Open it.”
Inside was a delicate silver bracelet with a small charm in the shape of the London Eye.
“Alexander, you didn’t have to-”
“I wanted to,” he interrupted. “Something to remember today by.”
I held out my wrist, and he fastened the bracelet with careful fingers. The metal was cool against my skin, the charm catching the light as it dangled.
“Thank you,” I said softly. “It’s beautiful.”
His fingers lingered on my wrist, tracing a light pattern that made my pulse jump. “You’re welcome.”
We continued our exploration of Covent Garden, occasionally ducking into shops that caught my interest. Alexander was surprisingly patient, waiting without complaint as I browsed through the books, tested the perfumes, and admired the handcrafted jewelry.
“You’re a good sport,” I commented as we exited a boutique where I’d spent twenty minutes debating between two scarves only to leave with neither. 5
“I’m enjoying watching you enjoy yourself,” he replied simply.
The statement was so genuine, so lacking in his usual guarded sarcasm, that I found myself momentarily speechless. Before I could formulate a response, Alexander checked his watch.
“We should head to dinner,” he said. “I’ve made reservations at The Ivy.”
The Ivy was everything I had imagined a classic London restaurant would be: wood–paneled walls, stained glass windows, and an atmosphere of understated elegance. We were seated at a corner table, partially secluded from the other diners.
“This place is iconic,” Alexander explained as we settled in. “It’s been a favorite of the theater crowd for decades.”
“I can see why,” I said, taking in the Art Deco details and the buzz of sophisticated conversation around us. “It
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feels special.” 1
“It is,” he agreed, ordering a bottle of wine with a nod to the sommelier.
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The menu offered classic British dishes with modern twists. I opted for the shepherd’s pie, while Alexander chose the Dover sole. As we waited for our food, I found myself reflecting on the day that had just passed.
“Thank you for today,” I said, twisting the new bracelet on my wrist. “It’s been… perfect.”
“Even with the threat of Selena hanging over us?” Alexander asked, his tone light but his eyes serious.
“I almost forgot about her,” I admitted. “You’re a very effective distraction, Mr. Knight.”
His lips curved into a smile. “I try my best, Ms. Harper.”
Our food arrived, interrupting the moment. The shepherd’s pie was comfort food elevated to an art form: rich, savory, and exactly what I needed after a day of walking.
“How’s yours?” I asked, nodding toward Alexander’s plate.
“Excellent. Want to try?” He offered a forkful across the table.
I leaned forward, accepting the bite. The fish melted in my mouth, delicate and perfectly seasoned. “That’s amazing.”
“Your turn,” he prompted.
I scooped up some shepherd’s pie and held it out. Alexander’s eyes held mine as he took the bite, his lips closing around my fork in a way that made my cheeks heat.
“Delicious,” he murmured, and I wasn’t entirely sure he was talking about the food.
Conversation flowed easily throughout dinner, touching on everything from architecture to literature to Alexander’s favorite hidden spots in London. It struck me how rarely we had conversations like this, just talking, without the undercurrent of business or our arrangement.
“Dessert?” Alexander asked as our plates were cleared.
“I couldn’t possibly,” I groaned, patting my stomach. “I’ve eaten more today than I usually do in a week.”
“Coffee, then?”
“Perfect.”
We lingered over coffee, the restaurant gradually emptying around us. The day’s adventures had left me pleasantly tired, a warm contentment settling in my bones.
“Penny, for your thoughts,” Alexander said, breaking a comfortable silence.
“I was just thinking how different this is,” I replied honestly.
“Different from what?”
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Chapter 251
“From what I expected when I agreed to come to London. From what I expected from you.” His eyebrow arched. “What did you expect?”
“I don’t know. More business, less… this.” 1 gestured vaguely between us. “Less normal.‘
“Normal,” he repeated as if testing the word. “Is that what today felt like to you?”
“In the best way,” 1 clarified. “Just two people enjoying a city together.”
Alexander’s expression softened. “I’m glad. That was the intention.”
The bill arrived, and Alexander settled it without a glance at the total.
Outside, the night air was cool but not unpleasant. London’s lights twinkled against the dark sky, the city transformed by darkness into something even more magical.
“Walk a bit?” Alexander suggested, offering his arm.
I slipped my hand into the crook of his elbow. “Lead the way.”
We strolled along the Thames, the water reflecting the city lights like a mirror. Other couples passed us, hand in hand, lost in their own worlds. For a moment, I let myself believe we were just like them—no arrangement, no expiration date, just two people drawn to each other.
“You’re quiet,” Alexander observed after several minutes of silence.
“Just taking it all in,” I replied, not quite ready to share my true thoughts.
He seemed to accept this, guiding us toward a park with a view of the river. A bench sat empty, and we claimed it.
The wood bench was cool beneath my legs as I gazed out at the Thames, its dark waters reflecting the city lights like scattered diamonds.
Alexander sat beside me, his arm casually draped along the back of the bench, not quite touching me but close enough that I could feel his warmth.
“London at night is something else,” I said, breaking our comfortable silence.
“It is.” His voice was low, intimate in the darkness. “Different energy than New York.”
“Older. More mysterious.” I tilted my head back to look at the sky, barely able to make out any stars through the city’s glow. “Like it’s keeping secrets.”
“Every city has its secrets,”
“Including you?” The question slipped out before I could stop it.
His eyes found mine in the dim light. “Especially me.”
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
