The Stranger

Chapter 20 - Cassandra

I didn't see Alex for the rest of the weekend. Mum was discharged from the hospital on Saturday, so I stayed with her all weekend to make sure she was okay. We messaged during those two days, but I didn't mention John or his invitation to the exhibition.

By Monday, I was relieved Mum seemed fine. The doctors prescribed her some clot-buster medication and scheduled a follow-up in four weeks.

The summer day was oddly gloomy—thick clouds, no sun, the kind of sky that promises rain but never delivers. I arrived at the office early, as usual, and Alex was already there. He caught my eye as I walked from the lift to my office, and we exchanged smiles. His dimpled smile. The nerves bubbling in my chest about telling him evaporated the moment he looked at me like that.

I dropped my bag on my chair, hung my coat on the stand, and made my way to his office before I lost my nerve.

"Hi, beautiful," his voice greeted me, soft and firm.

"Good morning," I said, closing the door behind me. "Can we talk?"

"Of course. Take a seat."

I sat down and took a deep breath, forcing the words out before I could overthink them.

"I saw my ex," I blurted, then immediately bit my lip. "Well, bumped into him. No—he was visiting Mum at the hospital."

Alex put his pen down and reached across the desk, taking my hand in his.

"Cassandra," he said gently, his tone laced with authority, "breathe."

I did as he commanded, inhaling and exhaling until my breaths matched his steady rhythm.

"Okay. Now tell me."

"He invited me to the opening of his art exhibition in Berlin. This Friday."

"Do you want to go?" he asked, unruffled.

"Yes."

"Then go."

"I'd like you to come with me, if that's okay. As my plus one."

His gaze didn't waver as his lips curved into a small, knowing smile.

"I have plans to go to Spain this weekend. To see my father."

"Oh." I wasn't sure if I was disappointed or just foolish for asking. We hadn't defined anything between us; we were just having sex—mind-blowing, life-altering sex—but still, just sex. I craved more, but I couldn't ask for it. Not yet.

After a pause, he leaned back, considering.

"How about this," he said. "We leave early Friday for Berlin. Stay the night. Then Saturday, you fly to Spain with me."

Excitement fluttered in my chest. His plan was so... effortless. It felt like he was claiming me, yet leaving space for me to make the choice. He didn't force control—he embodied it, and it drew me to him like a magnet.

I smiled, and he reached for my hand again.

"Is that a yes?"

"Yes."

Friday morning was all sunshine, as if the sky had forgotten its sullen mood from earlier in the week. Our flight left Heathrow at 2:05 PM, so we both took the day off. It didn't occur to me until I was halfway to his hotel that people at work might notice we were gone at the same time.

Alex had organised everything. My only job was to pack.

The Uber ride to the Four Seasons took fifteen minutes. I wore light blue jeans, a white top, and Converse—comfort over style for the trip. Alex was waiting for me outside, wheeling a medium-sized suitcase. He wore black suit trousers, a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, the top buttons undone, and a watch that matched his trousers and shoes. Sunglasses—an accessory I hadn't seen him wear before—perched on his face.