X: Command Me through Alexander's Eyes - Geneva Lee Page 0,100

that consumed me. He didn’t understand my affection came tainted with a brutal, consuming need to possess.

If I expect sympathy, my brother delivers the opposite. He shoots to his feet, his voice shaking, “What is your fucking excuse, Alex?”

“What’s wrong with you?” I look up, surprised by the volatile outburst. It’s not like him to take such a strong turn toward anger.

“I live every day in secret. I keep my boyfriend hidden. We sneak around. We endure snide comments. Because we aren’t an approved set. And you sit there: a man and a woman.”

“Thanks for the anatomy lesson.” He ignores my snide interjection.

“I live in two worlds. But you”—he points a trembling finger at me—“you can walk down the street with her, dance with her, kiss her, marry her.”

“I don’t want to marry her,” I bite out.

He barks a laugh. “You do, and you know it. She’s the one, and you aren’t too stupid to see it.”

“I’m not?” Fury seethes from me, and I put down the bottle before I throw it at him.

“You see it. You feel it. It’s there every time you look at her. It’s why our father has been acting like a toddler for weeks. It’s why every tabloid is hanging on your every move. You’re not stupid or blind—you’re punishing yourself.” He pauses, his chest heaving from his tirade. “Still. Stop punishing yourself. You can be happy. Be happy.”

“That’s a ringing endorsement,” I say dryly. Straightening up, I shrug my shoulders. “Why would I punish myself?”

He only hesitates for a second, but the pause gives him time to soften. “I know everything...about Sarah, and after…”

“Everything?” I lift a brow. “I doubt that.”

“You don’t deserve pain,” he says in a quiet voice.

“I don’t deserve happiness.” It slips out before I can stop it.

Edward throws his hands in the air as if giving up. He stalks toward the corridor that leads to his apartment. “Take it anyway. One of us should.”

I want to yell after him, demand he takes the advice he so easily throws at me. Instead, his words stir inside me, mixing to form an idea. I never wanted this world. It’s poison. Even now, with my brother, my friend, it sullies everything. It taints me. It cages me. I told myself I’d never let it do the same to Clara.

But I’ve never stopped to consider there might be another way. I don’t want this world. I never have, but I’ve never had a reason to make my own world.

I do now.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

It’s the longest night of my life, waiting for dawn. I should have put a time on the note I sent, but somehow I’d known the more I demanded, the less she might come. I wait for her until dawn cracks along the horizon and seeps through the windows of the house.

Our house.

If she’ll have me. I push against the thought and the swell of hope it sends ballooning in my chest. If she comes, that means I have a second chance. This time I’ll get it right. I’ll demand less. I’ll protect her more. I’ll separate her from my world, so we can build our own. I just need her to show up.

Instead of lingering on the clock, I get up, toss on jeans and pull a shirt over my shoulders, not bothering to button it. I should shave, but tea seems necessary given how little sleep I’d managed. I place the kettle on the hob and glance out the window. A splash of crimson catches my eye, and without thinking, I find a knife in the drawer and head outside.

The house in Notting Hill is lovelier than the pictures. I hadn’t stepped foot inside until the papers had been signed, and Norris had arranged a private security team—all necessary measures to keep the matter as anonymous as possible. It’s meant as a gift—or, rather, an olive branch. It will be our private sanctuary, tucked in a discreet corner of her favorite neighborhood.

I can’t help marveling as I pad down the steps and into the garden at the sheer freedom. The stone path is warm underfoot, not yet heated by the summer sun, but the flowers are opening, spreading in welcome toward the daylight. A warm morning breeze carries their perfume as if to say hello. I find the rose that caught my eye from the kitchen window and clip it. Spotting it felt like an omen, and I know what I need to do. Taking the flower with me, I pause