Steam still clung to the bathroom mirror when Alexandra stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped around her hair, skin flushed from the heat. She hummed absently as she reached for the towel, running it through her damp hair, droplets tracing down the back of her neck.
Then her phone buzzed on the vanity table.
She frowned, picking it up—an unknown number.
When she opened the message, her brow arched.
This is Sam. From the coffee shop incident.
Meet me tomorrow. 9 a.m. sharp. Same place.
Alexandra stared at the screen. "Wow. Hello to you too," she muttered, voice laced with sarcasm. "You really do just... decide things for people, huh?"
She set the phone back down, shaking her head with a soft, disbelieving laugh. Then she caught her reflection in the mirror—half amused, half curious.
"Should I even go?" she asked herself quietly, running the towel over her hair again.
By the time she was blow-drying her hair, she'd already decided.
When she clicked the dryer off, she looked at herself in the mirror, eyes steady.
"Alright, Samantha-from-the-coffee-shop," she murmured. "Let's see what you've got to say."
The Next Morning
The café was just as she remembered—soft light, the comforting hiss of the espresso machine, and the faint chatter of morning regulars. Alexandra stepped inside, the bell over the door chiming. Her gaze swept the room, landing almost instantly on the familiar woman seated by the window, posture perfect, coffee untouched.
Sam looked up as she approached. Their eyes met—again, that same spark of recognition, that same subtle tug in her chest.
Alexandra slid into the seat across from her, setting her bag down calmly. "You really have a habit of doing whatever you want, don't you? No warning, no please, just meet me tomorrow."
Sam didn't answer right away. She simply held Alexandra's gaze, expression unreadable.
"If this is about the dry cleaning," Alexandra continued, "don't worry about it. I already handled it myself. No need for reimbursement."
Sam reached into her briefcase and placed a folder neatly on the table. "This isn't about dry cleaning."
Alexandra tilted her head, picking up the folder. "What's this?"
"Open it."
She flipped it open, scanning the pages. Her eyebrows shot up. "A fake girlfriend contract?"
Sam nodded, utterly composed. "Yes. Everything's laid out in there. I just need you for family events—mostly when my grandmother insists on having you around. If I'd known this would get so complicated, I never would've said you were my girlfriend that day."
Alexandra turned the pages, eyes flicking over the cleanly typed clauses.
"And if the payment isn't enough," Sam added casually, "I can increase it."
A soft laugh escaped Alexandra. "Wow. Generous and bossy." She skimmed further. "Let's see... Rule #1: No kissing, hugging, or touching unless required for family appearances." She looked up, amused. "Strictly no contact?"
Sam nodded. "Holding hands is acceptable when Nana's around. That's it."
"Rule #2: No surprise visits or unscheduled contact." Alexandra read aloud, lips curling.
"Correct. We meet only when necessary. Keep it professional."
Alexandra's eyes sparkled as she flipped the last page. "Rule #10: No falling in love." She arched a brow. "Seriously?"
Sam's voice was smooth, controlled, almost rehearsed. "That's the one that matters most. I don't do relationships. Too messy. Too demanding. Too... unnecessary. I'm sure you'll manage just fine." Her lips curved into a sly, almost predatory smile. "But fair warning—people tend to fall for me anyway."
Alexandra laughed, low and genuine, the sound lingering between them. "Is that confidence talking... or just wishful thinking?"
Sam's smirk deepened, eyes glinting. "Overconfidence? No, sweetheart. That's just accurate self-assessment."
Alexandra's lips twitched, a mixture of amusement and something sharper—something that made her pulse skip. "Well," she said, leaning back just enough to test the space between them, "then I guess I should be careful."
Sam tilted her head, smug but unreadable. "Careful? With me? That's adorable."
Alexandra closed the folder and slid it back across the table. "Tell me, Samantha Kingsley—what exactly made you think I'd agree to this... ridiculous arrangement?" Her voice was calm, but her eyes sparkled with mischief.
Sam leaned back, arms crossed, tone clipped and precise. "I assumed you could use the money. You didn't exactly look... well-off the last time we met. I thought I was offering something practical."
Alexandra's gaze drifted down to her own outfit—plain tee, faded jeans, sneakers still dusted with faint mud from the last charity event. She looked back up, meeting Sam's gaze without a hint of defensiveness, a faint, knowing smile playing on her lips.
"You're rather... judgmental, aren't you, Miss Kingsley?" she said, letting the words linger, teasing.
Sam's expression stayed sharp, unreadable. "Or you could just say no. If you're not interested, I'll find someone else."
A charged silence stretched between them, taut and electric, like the moment just before a storm breaks. Alexandra leaned back, amusement flickering in her eyes. "Impatient, too," she said, studying Sam carefully. Then, with a deliberate tap on the folder, she added, "Alright. I'll accept."
Sam blinked, incredulous. "Just like that?"
Alexandra shrugged, easy, confident. "Why not? Could be fun. But fair warning—if the job ever requires kissing, I charge extra."
Sam rolled her eyes, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "In your dreams."
Alexandra grinned, letting her eyes glint with challenge. "We'll see."
Sam slid the folder and a pen toward her. Alexandra signed, her handwriting looping neatly across the page.
"Good," Sam said, taking the folder back. "I'll contact you when I need you. I have another meeting to get to."
As she stood, Alexandra leaned back in her chair, voice light and teasing. "Take care, girlfriend."
Sam didn't look back—just a small roll of the eyes as she strode out, heels clicking against the tile.
Alexandra watched her go, a quiet smile curving her lips. She took a sip of her coffee, the warmth blooming through her chest.
She was far too rich to need the money—but she hadn't said yes for the paycheck.
No, she agreed because there was something about Samantha Kingsley that she couldn't quite shake—a storm she wanted to step into, just to see what would happen next.
Alexandra's smile lingered even after Sam disappeared from sight. The echo of her heels faded, leaving behind only the hum of the air conditioning and the faint aroma of coffee.
She reached for her phone, thumb hovering over her contacts for a brief second before pressing "Call."
"Good morning, Ms. Alex," came a crisp voice on the other end. Her secretary—efficient, composed, and the only one who knew all her secrets.
"Good morning," Alexandra said, her tone soft but firm. "I need you to take care of something for me—quietly."
"Of course, ma'am. What do you need?"
Alexandra lowered her gaze to her coffee. "Erase me."
A beat of silence. "I'm sorry, ma'am?"
"Everything that connects to my name," she said evenly. "Press, interviews, public records—all of it. If anyone searches for Alexandra Brand, I want nothing to show up."
The secretary hesitated, her voice dipping. "Understood. May I ask—"
"No questions," Alexandra interrupted gently. "Just make it clean. I need to be someone else for a while."
"Yes, Ms. Alex. It will be done today."
"Thank you," Alexandra said, ending the call.
She set her phone down beside her coffee. Her reflection glimmered faintly in the glass—the face of a woman about to disappear from her own world.
And somewhere, in the quiet between heartbeats, Alexandra Brand ceased to exist.