Eliza didn’t sleep well after the confrontation with Celine.
Not because of the insults—those she could swallow with enough effort—but because of Alexander’s reaction.
He had defended her.
So fiercely. So instinctively.
So unlike the man who usually hid every emotion beneath iron walls.
She replayed it all in her mind:
The way he barked at Celine.
The way he stepped closer to Eliza afterward, his voice quiet but aching with sincerity.
“You matter to me more than I should admit.”
The words had stayed with her long into the night, echoing in her chest until sleep finally claimed her.
By morning, she had convinced herself it meant nothing.
He was her employer. Nothing more.
And whatever flickered between them was a dangerous illusion she needed to suppress.
But that illusion ignited the moment she entered the hallway and found Mrs. Hayworth waiting for her.
“Mr. Drake wants you dressed and ready by noon,” Mrs. Hayworth said.
Eliza blinked. “Ready… for what?”
“Lunch.”
“Oh. Should I prepare something in advance?”
Mrs. Hayworth gave her a strange look. “Not prepare. Attend.”
Eliza froze. “Attend… lunch? With him?”
Mrs. Hayworth’s brow lifted. “He said, and I quote, ‘Tell Eliza I need her for service today at noon. Outside.’ But I’ve seen the way he phrased things. That wasn’t an order. That was an attempt at subtlety.”
Eliza’s heart flipped. “I—I don’t understand.”
“You don’t need to,” Mrs. Hayworth sighed with a faint smile. “Just get ready.”
Alexander Refuses the Search
His assistant peeked in.
“Sir, about the incomplete background check—should we continue with another investigator?”
“No,” Alexander said sharply.
The assistant blinked. “But sir—”
“No,” he repeated, softer this time. “I don’t want another report. I’ll ask Eliza anything I need to know.”
The assistant nodded and left.
Alexander leaned back, rubbing his forehead. A strange peace washed over him.
He knew the decision was risky. Irresponsible, even.
But something in him insisted that pushing deeper through paperwork would mean betraying the trust forming between them.
He didn’t want records.
He wanted truth from her lips.
And he was going to start today.
The Invitation
Eliza stepped outside at exactly noon, wearing a simple cream blouse and dark skirt—nothing extravagant, but somehow still too pretty for a work day.
She expected Alexander to hand her a list of tasks or instructions.
But instead, he stood by the car… dressed casually.
Dark jeans. A fitted shirt. No tie, no suit jacket.
His hair slightly tousled.
A version of Alexander Drake she’d never seen.
Her breath caught.
“You’re late,” he teased gently, though she wasn’t.
“I—I didn’t know what to wear,” she murmured.
He smiled faintly. “You look perfect.”
Her cheeks warmed.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Lunch.”
She blinked. “With you?”
He opened the car door. “With me.”
There was no room for argument in his tone.
She climbed in, heart racing.
The Drive
The ride was quiet, but not uncomfortable.
Eliza kept her hands folded in her lap, staring at her reflection in the window.
Alexander drove with one hand on the wheel, glancing at her now and then as though confirming she was real.
“Are you nervous?” he asked suddenly.
“Yes,” she admitted.
He smirked. “Good. So am I.”
She turned to him, surprised. “Why?”
His jaw tightened, his voice softened.
“Because I care what you think of me.”
Her breath caught.
They both turned away quickly, unable to handle the weight of the moment.
Lunch in the Quiet Corner of the City
He took her to a private restaurant outside the city—quiet, elegant, with soft lighting and tall windows overlooking the water.
The hostess greeted him warmly, then eyed Eliza with curiosity.
Alexander ignored it.
“I want the private booth,” he told the staff.
They were led to a secluded corner with velvet seating and a view of the river.
When they sat, Eliza whispered, “This place is… beautiful.”
He smiled softly. “I wanted somewhere you wouldn’t feel… watched.”
“You’re being very thoughtful,” she murmured.
“I try,” he said quietly.
He Wants to Know Her
After ordering, Alexander leaned forward slightly.
“Eliza,” he began, “I want to know you. Not as an employee. Not as someone who works in my house. I want to know you.”
She swallowed.
“What do you want to know?”
“Everything,” he said honestly.
She laughed nervously. “That’s… a lot.”
“I have time.”
Her chest tightened with something warm and dangerous.
He asked softly:
“What were you like as a child?”
Eliza exhaled. “I don’t remember much. I woke up in a hospital with no memories. Martha—the woman who raised me—told me I was in an accident.”
His face softened. “You must have been terrified.”
“I was. But Martha made me feel safe.”
He nodded slowly.
“What do you fear now?” he asked next.
She hesitated.
“Not belonging,” she whispered. “Being somewhere I’m not wanted.”
Alexander’s breath hitched.
“You belong,” he said quietly. “More than you know.”
She looked up sharply—and found his gaze fixed on her like he was memorizing the shape of her soul.
“And dreams?” he asked. “What do you dream about when you let yourself dream?”
She smiled faintly. “Warmth. Home. Someone who looks at me like I matter.”
His throat tightened.
“Eliza…”
His voice was low, pained, wanting.
She looked away quickly, overwhelmed.
Their Hands Brush
When the plates arrived, they ate quietly.
At one point, Eliza reached for her glass just as Alexander reached for the same thing.
Their fingers brushed—soft, warm, electric.
She froze.
He didn’t move.
For a moment, their hands remained touching—not by accident anymore.
Eliza slowly pulled back.
Alexander watched her with an expression that made her stomach flutter.
“Sorry,” she whispered.
“Don’t be.”
His voice was almost a whisper.
Meanwhile, Celine Moves
At that exact moment, miles away, Celine sat hunched over a desk covered in old files.
Her expression wild.
Her red lipstick smudged from biting her lips.
The glow of her laptop reflected in her eyes.
She had called in every favor she had.
Dug through records she shouldn’t access.
Cross-referenced every detail.
And then—she found it.
An old police file.
A name circled in red.
Lisha Drake.
She smiled coldly.
“Oh, Eliza,” she whispered. “You’re about to lose everything.”
The Ride Home
Alexander opened the door for Eliza as they returned to the mansion.
Their eyes met in a way that made her pulse flutter uncontrollably.
The car was filled with unspoken emotion.
When they reached the gate, he turned off the engine but didn’t move.
“Eliza,” he said softly.
She looked at him.
“This isn’t the last time.”
She swallowed. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not done getting to know you,” he murmured.
Her breath trembled. She nodded, barely able to speak.
He stepped out, walked around, and opened her door again.
When she stood, the air between them hummed with possibility.
He reached out—just lightly—and brushed a strand of hair from her face.
Her knees nearly buckled.
“Goodnight, Eliza,” he said, his voice low and intimate.
“Goodnight,” she whispered.
As they walked into the mansion, neither noticed the black car parked across the street.
Inside it, Celine watched them with a cold, vicious smile.
She finally had the truth.
And she intended to destroy them with it.
