The King's

Chapter Two

ALEXANDER'S POV

At exactly five o'clock I was showered and ready for the night to begin. Thirty years around the sun and to say those thirty years have been filled with a lot of life lessons is an understatement. Tonight I was celebrating my birthday at my favorite restaurant surrounded by my friends and family. It wasn't exactly what I wanted. What I wanted was to stay home and eat takeout with my wife while watching 'Spider Man: No Way Home' for the one hundredth time and crying into a tub of chocolate ice cream but unfortunately for me, that wasn't going to happen and that made me sad. My wife, Grace, probably thinks I'm going to have a miserable time seeing as I'm such a homebody and all that. If I'm being honest? I probably wilI. I don't usually surround myself with people. I'm not exactly a 'people' person. Grace is though, she's great with people. Me on the other hand? People hate me. I don't blame them because I hate myself too sometimes. I can be cold and reserved when I want to.

I was meant to be getting ready and here I was, standing in front of a full length mirror with different colored ties draped over one of my arms being self deprecating. I never liked celebrating my birthday because let's be honest, It's just another day. I'm another year older. That's not exactly something worth celebrating. I mean who wants to celebrate me getting older? Not me, that's for sure.

"I do!" Grace said with a laugh.

"Did I say that out loud?" I ask, turning to her with a frown. I tend to say certain thoughts out loud.

My wife thinks it's cute, I think it's a pain in my ass.

"Yeah." She said, giggling.

"Sorry. Got a lot on my mind." I tell her before shaking my head and turning my attention back to the task at hand. Literally and figuratively.

Sighing, I go for a black colored tie -Grace's favorite- that she got me for valentines day, paired with gold cufflinks, also from Grace and finish getting ready.

Grace and I grew up together. We were what people called 'highschool sweethearts'. My father, Henry, wouldn't let me take over the family business -no matter how skilled a doctor I was- until I had someone to run it with. His biggest fear was that I'd turn into the man that raised me and my siblings. A workaholic that was never around. We got married at twenty-seven and twenty-four.

"I'm just going to put on some light makeup and let Milo and Lola outside." My wife called out from inside the bathroom.

I made my way towards our shared bathroom and leaned against the door frame, crossing my arms over my chest in the process.

"You don't need makeup honey, you look beautiful just the way you are. You know that right?" I asked, genuine curiosity evident in my voice.

I hope she knew how beautiful she was with or without makeup. My wife deserved to know how beautiful she looked. I wasn't going to stop her from wearing makeup, I just wanted her to know that she looked just as alluring without it as she did with it. If she didn't, well then I was doing a piss poor job at making sure she knew how beautiful she truly was.

"I know." She said with a smile, showing off her perfectly glossy lips once she turned to face me better "you tell me everyday how beautiful I am and I know you're not lying because 1) you don't lie and 2) your pants grow three sizes too small every time you tell me." She laughed before her eyes travelled down and stopped at the very noticeable tent in my pants.

Clearing my throat with a roll of my eyes and a small smile, I adjust my stance, spreading my legs a little wider. My slacks were becoming a little too tight for my liking. As I continued to gawk at my wife while she got ready -she really was beautiful- she spoke,