Page 33 of The Puck Player

Was it really a cruel joke to him? Or did he genuinely think the gift would be something I’d enjoy, just like this one?

Those thoughts are still running rampant in my head an hour later, as I’m trying each piece of clothing on. Which is how Evie finds me, standing in front of the mirror in a purple silk dress, admiring its beauty.

A knock interrupts my admiration, and when I shout for her to come in, she pushes open the door before coming to a halt. “Holy shit, you look like a fucking model in that dress, Bree,” she gushes, and heat stains my cheeks, as I flick my stare between her and the mirror.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I scold, shaking my head, suddenly feeling self-conscious, but Evie moves to my side and joins me in staring at my reflection in the mirror.

“I am not being ridiculous, you look insanely stunning, where did you get this?” she asks, trailing her gaze over me, and I wish she hadn’t caught me fawning over the dress, given who it was from.

“Alexander’s mother sent it to me,” I start slowly, wondering what she will make of all this. “He found out I was a fan of hers, so I guess he arranged for her to have some stuff sent to me,” I sigh, gesturing to the box on the bed, and she shakes her head, as she moves toward it.

“Of course he did,” she laughs, as if she isn’t surprised in the slightest, as she snatches up the note and reads it, before slowly surveying the items strewn across my bed and the box. “This is so typically him,” she adds knowingly, and I can’t help but push for more information.

“What do you mean?”

“Gift giving is his love language,” she explains, gently moving some of the stuff aside so she can take a seat on my bed, still looking through each item with as much awe as I did. “He’s been like this ever since I’ve known him, always going out of his way to get things if he knows they will make you happy. For my first anniversary with Jake, he booked us an all expenses paid weekend in the Hamptons, because Jake couldn’t afford anything at the time. It was completely over the top and expensive, but that’s just what he’s like. It’s what he does when he cares, so welcome to the crazy Reign Club, I guess.”

A bitter taste coats the back of my tongue as I listen to her talk, a lump forming at the back of my throat, as I wonder if I reacted too harshly to the other gift I received today. This second gift was clearly arranged first, so he didn’t just randomly decide to send me a box of sex toys, he did it because he genuinelythought they would help me. Just like he picked out these clothes because he knew I would love them. Turning back to the mirror, I no longer feel like I deserve to wear such a beautiful piece of clothing, not after what I did to him.

A thought that must be etched across my face because Evie asks, “So, is this his apology for whatever made you slap him?”

My head whips around in surprise. “You heard about that?”

She rolls her eyes at my question. “Of course I did, that’s the power of the girlfriend privilege, Bree, you should know that.” She is smirking at me knowingly, and I can’t help but sigh, as I move to take off the dress.

“No, this isn’t an apology,” I say slowly, letting the silk fall from my skin and already missing the comfort of it. My mom would have loved it just as much as I do. “But it does make me believe I may have overreacted this morning,” I add truthfully, and her smile softens.

“Well, that’s another great thing about Reign, he will forgive you, so don’t worry.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know him,” she replies with a shrug, standing up and moving to leave. “Oh, and because he’s at the front door begging to be let inside,” she coos, before slipping out of the room without another word, as my eyes widen in a panic.

Fuck.

What the hell is he doing here?

I quickly grab some comfies from my drawer, some shorts and an oversized soft pink sweatshirt, before quickly stuffing all of the clothes back into the box and shoving it inside my closet. Only once I catch my breath do I leave my room, and find Evie sitting at the breakfast bar with a smirk on her face, Alexander still nowhere in sight.

“You didn’t let him in?” I ask in wonder, and she shakes her head no.

“Of course not, he pissed off my friend,” she replies simply, and a warm feeling spreads through my chest. “Don’t worry though, I’m sure he’s still out there waiting,” she laughs, and I nod at her with a smile, before moving toward the front door.

Stealing my breath, I open it and find Alexander pacing back and forth in front of the door, with two brown bags in his hands, only coming to a stop when he sees me. His eyes are a mixture of panic and sorrow, but still they trail over me from head to toe, before he meets my stare and swallows thickly.

“Aubree, I’m so fucking sorry,” he rushes out. “I’m a fucking idiot, and I never should have crossed the line like that,” he adds, and I hold my hand up to stop him from speaking, making him pause instantly.

“No, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have hit you like that, you didn’t deserve that,” I reply softly, still surprised I even did that, since I have never hit anyone in my life, but I was just so mad.

“No, I did deserve it, like I said, I’m a fucking idiot,” he repeats, and I smile softly at his assessment. “I’m just so used to getting people stuff if I think they need it, even when they don’t ask for it, and I know it was unconventional, but I thought it would…” he trails off, as if he doesn’t know how to explain himself, but it’s okay, because I think I get it now.

“I got your other gift,” I say sheepishly, and his stare searches mine in confusion. “The one from your mother, it was waiting for me when I got home,” I explain, and only then does he nod slowly in understanding.

“Shit, I forgot about that one,” he replies, fidgeting with the back of his neck. “I hope it’s okay, I know it's a lot, but you said you love her clothes, and I just thought…” he trails off again, and it’s only now I see what Evie meant.

I know exactly what he thought. I told him I was a fan and loved the clothes, and he arranged to have me sent some of them, no questions asked. Not just because he knew I’d lovethem, but because he could, because he has the means to. I have no doubt that even if his mother wasn’t Sinclair Striker, that he would have still gone out of his way to get the clothes to me.

The same can be said of the parcel I received this morning. It wasn’t his way of being perverted or trying to fuck me, it was because I confided in him about not being sure where to start, and he thought those things might help guide me in a way that doesn’t involve someone else. It was about me being comfortable in my own sexuality without relying on another person, not for any other reason other than because he wanted to help.

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