What He Really Wants

Chapter fifteen

EDNA
The meeting was horribly long, and I couldn't wait for it to be over. It made me hate Alexander Laurent even more—if that were even possible. He always seems to come up with new ways to get under my skin.

It had been a while since I sat through a business meeting, and I couldn't remember it being this boring. Maybe it was because I'd spent so long in department stores, I'd forgotten what business meetings felt like.

Alex was right about one thing, though: working in a department store didn't suit me. I was overqualified. But after I lost my job as an accountant in his company, I had to choose—either have a gap on my résumé or walk around with a bad review from my former employer. The choice was obvious. Especially since Alex made sure I couldn't get hired anywhere my talent would be appreciated.

"We'll meet every month for the next four months before we can decide effectively."

The man speaking was a Laurent too. He had those same sharp green eyes and the tall, lanky frame. Probably an uncle.

Four more meetings like this? Hell no. Alex must be dreaming if he thinks I'll just roll over for him again. Dream on, asshole.

When the meeting finally ended, I plastered on fake smiles and exchanged pleasantries with the shareholders. I even managed a few stiff "thank yous" when they congratulated me on the marriage—as if that was something worth celebrating.

I snuck out before anyone could corner me again and went down to the cafeteria to get a soda. Faces turned. I could feel the weight of their stares, could almost hear the whispers: What's she doing here? Isn't that the thief from before? Does she have another heist planned?

Alex made sure to humiliate me thoroughly back then. It wasn't surprising people reacted this way. Still, it stung. I'd been loved once—respected even. It's shocking how thin the line between love and hate really is.

I took the elevator down to the exit and grabbed a taxi back to Alex's house. I didn't expect him to drop everything and take me home himself. After all, he's a "busy man."

When I got back, Regina had already picked Peter up from daycare, and he was taking a nap. Thank God. I loved my son, but right now, I couldn't handle anything else. I had some leftover pasta for lunch and went to Alex's room to nap.

It's not like he'd be home any time soon—and honestly, I didn't care if he walked in. I was too tired for his bullshit.

When I woke up, I had the eerie feeling of being watched. The room was dark, and even though I'd slept well, that feeling completely ruined it.

Of course, Alexander freaking Laurent was sitting in the armchair in the far corner of the room, staring at me. Creepy, much? His tie was loose around his neck, but otherwise he was fully dressed.

I didn't say a word. I got up, grabbed my things, and walked toward the door, ignoring him.
"Stay," he said. Or asked. It was hard to tell.
"For what exactly?" I didn't turn around.
"Sleep here tonight."
"Alex—"
"Please."

He sounded... sad. Lost, even. And lost and Alexander Laurent were hardly ever in the same sentence.

I cursed myself for hesitating—but he asked nicely. And that was rare. With a dramatic sigh, I walked into the bathroom, imagining him doing a little victory dance behind me.

⸻

ALEX
I was able to sleep peacefully for the first time in a long time.

Edna was a charm. As crazy as it sounds, now that I had her again, I wasn't letting go.

I watched her mumble something in her sleep. It wasn't supposed to be cute, but somehow it was.

From down the hall, I heard Peter's childish laugh as Regina gave him a bath.

Peter.

That was something Edna and I needed to discuss. I could easily go behind her back and find out everything I needed to know. But I knew she'd hate me for it. And lately, I found myself wanting to avoid anything that might upset her.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice husky from sleep. I hadn't realized she was awake. I'd wanted her to rest a little longer.

"Good morning, Edna," I said, offering her a smile.
"Yeah, yeah. What were you thinking about?" she asked, sitting up. The bun she'd tied her hair in had come loose, spilling a mass of wavy curls around her shoulders.

"I wanted to ask about Peter."
"What about him?" Her tone sharpened. Defensive.

"It's nothing. Just..." I hesitated. "He's four. And we were last together a little over four years ago."

The color drained from her face. She began wringing her fingers.

I didn't need her to answer. I already knew.