Page 32 of The Billionaire's Bargain

Something flickers in his eyes—hurt, maybe. "I told you I wasn't going anywhere."

"People say a lot of things." I drift closer to him, drawn by some invisible force.

"I'm not people." His voice drops lower. "Not to you."

No, he's not. He never has been, from the moment he singled me out in that crowded diner.

"My mother thinks you love me," I blurt out, immediately wishing I could snatch the words back.

Alexander doesn't flinch, doesn't look away. If anything, his gaze intensifies, pinning me in place. "Your mother is very perceptive."

My heart lurches. "Alexander?—"

"I do love you." He stands abruptly, the laptop sliding onto the chair as he steps toward me. "I've loved you since the moment you spilled that cup of coffee on me."

I can't breathe. This isn't how it's supposed to go. Men like Alexander Grant don't fall in love with girls like me. They don'tsit in hospital waiting rooms for days. They don't look at me like I'm the answer to a question they've been asking their whole lives.

"That's not possible," I whisper. "You don't even know me."

"I know enough." His hands come up, hovering near my shoulders without touching, like he's afraid I'll bolt. "I know you're loyal and brave and stubborn. I know you light up when you talk about books. I know you curl into a ball when you sleep and you take your coffee with too much sugar. I know you're scared of needing anyone but you'd walk through fire for the people you love." His voice breaks slightly. "And I know I want to be one of those people, Alice. For as long as you'll let me."

Tears blur my vision. "This is crazy. We had an arrangement?—"

"Fuck the arrangement." The rare profanity startles me. "It was never about that. Not really. It was about seeing you again, keeping you close until you could see what I saw."

"And what was that?" My voice trembles.

"Us." He steps closer, and this time his hands do touch me, gentle on my shoulders. "What we could be together."

I should step back. I should remind myself of all the reasons this can't work—our different worlds, the power imbalance, how fast this is happening. Instead, I sway toward him like a flower seeking sunlight.

"I can't leave my mom," I say, as if this is a sensible objection to the confession he's just made. "She needs me."

A smile touches his lips, tender and knowing. "I know. That's why I've already spoken to the hospital administrator about transferring her to a private room in the best recovery facility in the city once she's stable."

My jaw drops. "You what?"

"She'll have the best care, the best physical therapists, everything she needs." His thumbs trace small circles on myshoulders. "And you can visit her as often as you want. Or we can bring her to live with us when she's recovered, if that's what you both prefer."

"Us?" I repeat, dazed.

Alexander takes a deep breath, and for the first time since I've known him, he looks uncertain. "I want you to marry me, Alice."

The hallway seems to tilt. "What?"

"Marry me." His hands slide up to frame my face. "Be my wife. Let me take care of you and your mother. Let me show you every day how much I love you."

"But we—it's only been?—"

"I know how long it's been." His eyes are fierce now, burning with conviction. "I know it seems fast to you. But I've never been more certain of anything in my life. And I think...I hope...you feel something too."

Something? I feel everything—terror and exhilaration and disbelief and underneath it all, a wild, impossible joy.

"You could have anyone," I whisper.

"How many times do I have to tell you? I don't want anyone, you stubborn girl. I only wantyou." He leans his forehead against mine. "Only you."

Our breath mingles in the space between us. I think about what my mother said—about strength being the courage to want someone despite the risks. About how Alexander has proven where his world is.

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