I set the book down on the desk, leaning against it to block her path to the damning evidence. "No reason," I said. "I just thought we could use some decluttering."
She stepped closer, her fingers brushing against mine as she picked up the book. Her smile remained sweet, but her grip on it was firm—possessive, almost.
"Darling, you don't need to worry about this. I'll take care of it later." Her tone was breezy, but there was a hint of strain beneath the surface.
With deliberate carelessness, she tossed the book into a drawer, her movements practiced but slightly rushed. Her eyes flicked to me, searching. "You didn't see anything just now, did you?" she asked.
My pulse quickened, but I met her gaze with a bemused expression. "See what?"
She exhaled softly, almost inaudibly, as if relieved. "Nothing important. Just some things I haven't sorted through yet." She moved to the shelf, adjusting a few books that didn't need adjusting. Her hands were steady, but I noticed the way her fingers lingered on certain titles, as if confirming their secrets were still safe.
Moments later, she turned back to me, her eyes alight with a carefully crafted cheerfulness. "What do you feel like eating today? I'll cook for you."
Her voice, warm and inviting, was the same as always. But the image from the photo lingered in my mind, impossible to erase. That confident, shirtless grin. The way her wrists had been bound. The intimacy of it.
I swallowed hard, forcing a smile. "I'm not really hungry. I think I'll go back and sleep a bit more."
Before I could leave, she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around my waist. She pressed herself against me, her cheek resting on my shoulder. "Then let me join you for a nap," she said softly.
When I woke up again, Alexa was in the kitchen. The faint aroma of garlic and soy sauce wafted upstairs, wrapping itself around me like a taunt. I walked to the landing, leaning against the railing as I watched her move.
She was by the stove, her fair, slender hands skillfully flipping the stir-fry in a wok. The sunlight filtering through the window caught the faint sheen of sweat on her brow, illuminating the strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail. She looked up and caught my gaze, her lips curving into a smile that could disarm armies.
"You little lazy cat, go wash your hands—it's time to eat," she said.