Handcuffs And Kisses (Series #1)

Chapter 15

Lilian Carson POV

"Yes, you love. You are going to be his wife. Do your responsibility." I hesitated for a moment, unsure if I was ready for this level of responsibility. But I knew I couldn't ignore Titus's command. For now, I'll try to go with the flow.

Is he done fucking that girl yet? I hope he is not hurting that poor woman. Alexander can do anything, even hurt innocent people.

Taking a deep breath, I made my way towards Alexander's room, my heart pounding in my chest. As I approached the door, the sound of shattering glass grew louder, causing a knot of worry to tighten in my stomach. Pushing the door open slowly, I was met with a scene of chaos. Shards of glass covered the floor, along with blood drops. Alexander stood in the centre of the room, his face etched with a mixture of anger and frustration. His usually impeccable appearance was now dishevelled, his hair ruffled, and his clothes wrinkled. His hands were clenched into fists, and his eyes were wild with fury. As I stepped closer, I could see that his knuckles were bruised and bloody, evidence of the violent outburst that had just occurred.

Thankfully, that woman was not here. I think the servants took her out through the back door. As long he hurts himself, I am fine with it.

I cautiously approached him, trying to calm the storm that was raging within him. "Alexander," I whispered, reaching out a trembling hand, "are you okay?"

Alexander turned towards me, his gaze piercing through me with a mixture of desperation and vulnerability. His breathing was heavy; each inhale and exhale was a struggle against the turmoil that consumed him. Slowly, he unclenched his fists, his knuckles still stained with crimson. He looked down at his hands, his voice barely a whisper: "No, I'm not okay."

This side of him was completely different. He seemed genuinely sad, and why wouldn't he be? After all, he lost his sister. The pain in his eyes reflected the deep void left by her absence, and I could only imagine the weight of grief he carried.

A wave of empathy washed over me, and I reached out, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "Please calm down; you are hurt," I implored, my voice filled with concern. He flinched at my touch, his body tense with a mix of pain and anger. But slowly, his shoulders relaxed, and he allowed himself to lean into my touch.

Tears welled up in his eyes as he whispered, "I just miss her so much. It was my duty to protect her, and I failed." In that moment, I knew that all he needed was someone to be there for him, to hold his hand through the darkest of times. This is my chance to gain his trust and wait for the right moment.

It was clear that their bond ran deep, and the weight of his perceived failure was crushing him. I gently squeezed his hand, silently reassuring him that he was not alone in his grief. As he took a shaky breath, I mustered the courage to ask, "Tell me about her. What was she like?" His eyes flickered with a mixture of pain and nostalgia, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

He paused for a moment, as if lost in a sea of memories. Then, with a hint of sadness in his voice, he began to speak. "She was the most extraordinary person and always thought of others more than herself," he said, his words filled with a bittersweet longing. "Her laughter could light up a room, and her kindness knew no bounds. She had a way of making everyone around her feel special, like they were the most important person in the world." I listened intently, captivated by the way he spoke about Amaya.

"Although we used to fight sometimes, she always took care of me. She was older than me and was like a mother figure to me. She would cook my favourite meals, help me with my homework, and comfort me when I was sad." As he finished speaking, a mix of sorrow and gratitude shone through his eyes.