The clock struck seven.
Emma stood outside the dining room door, palms damp, heart fluttering like a nervous schoolgirl. She'd changed into a navy blue dress—nothing too fancy, but still nice. Her hair was pulled back into a loose braid, with just enough curls falling around her face.
She had no idea what to expect.
Just a dinner, she reminded herself. Just the CEO being polite.
Still, she couldn't stop adjusting the hem of her dress.
Emma (whispering to herself): "Breathe. It's not a date."
But the soft music drifting from inside said otherwise.
---
Alexander stood near the long dining table, wearing a crisp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and no tie—more relaxed than Emma had ever seen him. Two plates were already set at the far end of the table, candles flickering between them. The lights were dimmed, the ambiance warm.
Alexander (offering a small smile): "Right on time."
Emma (nodding): "Thanks for the note."
Alexander: "I thought we deserved a quiet evening."
She walked toward the table, her heels tapping lightly against the floor.
Emma: "Where's Emily?"
Alexander: "Asleep. Mrs. Hopkins offered to keep the monitor in her room tonight."
Emma raised a brow, surprised.
Emma: "She trusts you with me alone?"
Alexander (dryly): "Let's just say she left me with a warning not to be an idiot."
Emma laughed, the sound easing the tension between them. He pulled out her chair.
---
Dinner was roast chicken, asparagus, and a surprisingly good homemade risotto. Emma glanced at him as they ate, wondering who had cooked.
Emma: "You didn't order this, did you?"
Alexander: "No."
Emma (teasing): "You cooked?"
He looked down briefly, a hint of color rising in his cheeks.
Alexander: "It was either that or let Hopkins do it—and she threatened to burn it on purpose if I didn't try."
Emma giggled, nearly choking on her sip of water.
Emma (grinning): "You? In an apron?"
Alexander (smirking): "Don't get used to it."
They ate quietly for a moment, but the silence between them now felt comfortable, like a shared secret.
---
Emma (curious): "You mentioned your mother made chicken stew. Is that your favorite meal?"
Alexander (nodding slowly): "It was."
Emma: "What happened to her?"
He hesitated. Then, with an unexpected openness, he answered.
Alexander: "She passed away when I was twenty-two. Cancer."
Emma's smile faded.
Emma (softly): "I'm sorry."
Alexander: "She was the only soft thing in my childhood. My father… was not."
His jaw tightened, but he didn't look away.
Alexander: "He believed emotions were weaknesses. Love made you reckless. So I spent most of my life trying to prove I wasn't weak."
Emma didn't know what to say. So instead, she reached for her wine glass and clinked it gently against his.
Emma: "To strength, then. The kind that raises a beautiful little girl."
His eyes softened.
Alexander: "And the woman who teaches her to giggle at pancakes."
---
After dessert—fruit tart and coffee—they found themselves seated near the fireplace in the adjoining lounge. The fire crackled softly, casting gold shadows across their faces.
Alexander: "You're not what I expected, Emma."
Emma (amused): "What did you expect?"
Alexander: "Someone temporary. Disconnected. Professional."
Emma: "I was professional."
Alexander (quietly): "Until you became essential."
Her breath caught.
Emma: "I didn't mean to complicate your life."
Alexander: "You didn't. You brought it color."
The air grew still between them. Emma could feel the heat from the fire, but it was nothing compared to the warmth in her chest.
She looked down at her hands.
Emma (softly): "People talk, you know."
Alexander: "Let them."
She raised her eyes to meet his.
Emma: "That's not easy—for me."
Alexander (firmly): "I can handle them. I just need to know if you're still willing to stay."
She hesitated. Then nodded.
Emma: "I'm not going anywhere."
A smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
They sat in silence again, but this time, it was full of understanding. No words were needed.
---
Later, as he walked her to her bedroom door, the hallway lights casting shadows behind them, Alexander stopped a step away.
He didn't touch her. Didn't lean in.
But his voice was low. Serious.
Alexander: "Thank you. For tonight. For staying."
Emma looked up at him, heart thudding.
Emma: "Thank you… for letting me in."
They stood there for a beat too long, tension simmering.
Then he stepped back, giving her space.
Alexander: "Good night, Emma."
Emma: "Good night… Alexander."
She slipped into her room, closing the door softly behind her.
And for the first time since arriving at the Reed residence, she allowed herself to hope.
Hope that maybe… this wasn't just a job anymore.