Madison
Mom sat on the edge of my bed. “So, when am I going to see Alexander again?”
I took another sip of coffee. “I invited him for dinner on Sunday.”
Her face lit up. “Wonderful! I’ll make my special lasagna.”
“Mom, you don’t have to go all out-”
“Nonsense! It’s not every day my daughter brings home a man for dinner, especially one who’s clearly smitten with her.”
I nearly choked on my coffee. “Smitten? Alexander Knight doesn’t get smitten.”
“Oh, honey.” She patted my knee. “He looks at you like you hung the moon. Trust me, that man is head over heels. A mother knows these things.” She stood up. “Now, what time should I expect him on Sunday?”
I sighed, knowing there was no point in arguing. “Six?”
“Perfect! I’ll start planning the menu.” She headed for the door, then paused. “Oh, and Madison? Maybe wear that blue dress he bought you.”
“Mom!”
She laughed as she closed the door behind her, leaving me to wonder if there was any truth to her observation about Alexander. Head over heels seemed like a stretch for a man who had proposed our relationship as a business arrangement.
I flopped back onto my pillows, my mind replaying moments from last night: not just the sex, but the way he had looked at me during dinner, the pride in his voice when he talked about my work, and the tenderness in his touch as he held me afterward.
Sunday rolled around quicker than I expected. The apartment smelled amazing: a mix of garlic, tomatoes, and the rich aroma of my mom’s special lasagna baking in the oven. I wiped my hands on a dish towel, surveying the dining table I’d just set with our nicest plates.
“Is the salad ready?” Mom called from the kitchen.
I tossed the last of the cherry tomatoes into the bowl. “Just finished. Need help with anything else?”
“You could open that bottle of wine Alexander sent over. Let it breathe a bit before he arrives.”
I grabbed the expensive Cabernet from the counter, admiring the label. Trust Alexander to send a wine that probably costs more than my weekly grocery budget. The cork came out with a satisfying pop just as my phone buzzed with a text.
Alexander: On my way. Traffic is light.
I glanced at the clock: 5:45. Early, as usual. The man had never been late a day in his life, I was convinced.
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“He’s on his way,” 1 announced, smoothing down my dress, the blue one he’d bought me, because my mother was nothing if not persuasive.
Mom emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. “Perfect timing. The lasagna needs five more minutes.” She eyed me critically. “You look beautiful, honey.”
“Thanks.” I fidgeted with the necklace at my throat, another gift from Alexander. “It’s just dinner.”
“Mmhmm.” Her knowing smile made me blush. “Just dinner with the man who looks at you like you’re the only woman in the world.”
“Mom, please. It’s not―”
“Not what? Real?” She shook her head. “Madison Harper, I wasn’t born yesterday. That man is in love with you,
whether he knows it or not.”
Before I could argue, the doorbell rang. My heart did that ridiculous little flip it always did when Alexander was
near.
“I’ll get it,” I said, perhaps too quickly.
I opened the door to find Alexander standing there, devastatingly handsome in dark jeans and a crisp button- down shirt, holding a bouquet of flowers and a small gift bag.
“Right on time, Mr. Knight,” I said with a smile.
His eyes traveled over me, lingering on the way the blue dress hugged my curves. “I’m never late for important engagements, Ms. Harper.”
He stepped inside, lowering his voice as he passed me. “You look delicious in that dress. I’m already thinking about dessert.”
Heat bloomed in my cheeks as I closed the door. “Behave yourself.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” He winked before turning to greet my mother. “Sarah, you look lovely. These are for
you.”
Mom accepted the flowers with a delighted smile. “Alexander! So thoughtful. Come in, come in. Dinner’s almost ready.”
“It smells incredible.” He handed her the gift bag. “A small token of appreciation for the invitation.”
She peeked inside and gasped. “Alexander! This is too much.”
“What is it?” I asked, curious.
Mom pulled out an elegant box containing what appeared to be very expensive chocolates. “These are from that French chocolatier I mentioned once–the one I read about in a magazine!”
Alexander shrugged as if remembering such a detail was nothing. “You said you’d always wanted to try them.”
I shook my head, amused and touched by his thoughtfulness. He never missed a detail, especially when it came
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to pleasing people he cared about.
“Can I get you some wine?” I asked, gesturing to the open bottle.
“Please.” He followed me to the kitchen, standing close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his body.
As I poured the wine, his hand brushed against my lower back, a casual touch that sent electricity up my spine.
“This wine pairs perfectly with tomato–based dishes,” he murmured. “I thought it would complement your mother’s lasagna.”
“Of course you did.” I handed him a glass. “Is there anything you don’t think of?”
His eyes darkened slightly. “Several things. Most involving you and fewer clothes.”
“Alexander!” I hissed, glancing toward the dining room where Mom was arranging his flowers in a vase.
He took a sip of wine, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Just being honest.‘
The timer dinged, saving me from having to respond.
“Dinner’s ready!” Mom announced. “Madison, bring the salad, will you?”
Dinner was a surprisingly relaxed affair. Alexander charmed my mother effortlessly, asking about her health and genuinely listening to her stories about her physical therapy progress. He seemed completely at ease, a far cry from the intimidating CEO who commanded boardrooms and made business rivals quake.
“So, Alexander,” Mom said, serving him another slice of lasagna, “Madison tells me the Manhattan project is moving forward ahead of schedule.”
“It is,” he confirmed, giving me an approving glance. “Largely thanks to your daughter’s exceptional management skills.”
“She’s always been organized,” Mom said proudly. “Even as a little girl, her Barbie dolls had color–coded wardrobes.”
“Mom!” I groaned. “He doesn’t need to hear about my childhood quirks.”
“On the contrary,” Alexander said, his lips twitching with amusement. “I find it fascinating. Please continue, Sarah.”
“Traitor,” I muttered, taking a large sip of wine.
“Oh, and she was so serious about everything,” Mom continued, clearly enjoying herself. “When she was ten, she made a PowerPoint presentation to convince us to get a cat.”
Alexander’s eyebrows shot up. “Did it work?”
“Absolutely. We got Mittens two days later. Madison’s arguments were very compelling.”
“Some things never change,” Alexander said, his eyes meeting mine across the table. “She’s still remarkably persuasive when she wants to be.”
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The way he said it made my cheeks heat, knowing he was referring to more private persuasions.
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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.
