~Alexander's POV~
A loud, sharp scoff erupted from the backseat.
I didn't even look in the rearview mirror. I just started the engine and drove, feeling Alis's hand find mine on the center console, victorious and secure.
The drive back was filled with a delicious, heavy silence. Alis hummed a small, satisfied tune under his breath, his fingers tracing patterns over the back of my hand. In the backseat, Clara was a statue of frozen resentment.
When we finally pulled into the driveway and parked, I didn't waste a second. I stepped out and walked around to Alis's side, opening the door for him. I offered him my hand, and he took it easily, stepping out of the car with calm, effortless grace.
As we walked into the house, my mother was waiting in the living room, her eyes darting immediately to Clara's stormy face.
The maid hurried over and took the shopping bags from my hands. I told her to carry everything to the kitchen.
"Back so soon?" my mother said, her voice tight. "Clara, dear, did you find what you were looking for?"
"No," Clara snapped, her heels clicking aggressively against the marble floor as she headed for the stairs without another word.
My mother's gaze snapped to me, then to Alis, who was currently leaning his head against my shoulder, looking like the picture of innocence. "Alexander, what happened?"
"The store didn't have what she needed, Mom," I said smoothly, guiding Alis toward the kitchen without giving her a chance to dig any deeper.
The moment we stepped into the kitchen, the staff went into a frenzy. The maids rushed toward me, hands outstretched to take the ingredients. "Sir, please, let us handle it."
"It's fine," I insisted, already rolling up my sleeves. "I want to do this myself."
They hovered, insisting they stay to assist, but before I could dismiss them, Clara appeared in the doorway. She had clearly spent her time upstairs changing; she was now wearing a dress so short and revealing that it was practically a second skin.
"Alex," she purred, stepping into the room with a practiced sway. "Let me help you. I'm actually quite good in the kitchen."
I barely had time to react before Alistair took charge. He turned to the maids first, his voice calm but authoritative. "Everyone out. Leave the kitchen to us."
The staff didn't hesitate; they vanished in seconds. Then, Alis turned his full attention to Clara. He looked her up and down, his gaze scanning her revealing outfit with a look of pure, unbothered disdain.
"So," Alis said softly, his voice smooth and lethal. "You dressed like that just to stand in front of my husband?"
His gaze flicked over her slowly, then returned to her face.
"If you were trying to seduce him, you should've at least made the effort to look better than me."
A faint, cruel smile curved his lips.
"Unfortunately, whether I look at you from the front or the back… there's nothing there. You don't exactly give him much to look at."
I almost stepped in, instinct urging me to defuse the moment, but then I caught the fire burning in Alis's eyes and stopped myself. I knew better. If I interfered now, I'd be the one facing his wrath later.
Alis took a step closer to her, his presence suddenly overwhelming the room. "I should tell you this now: I don't joke when it comes to my husband. If you think you have a single chance of seducing him with that body, I'm sorry, dear, you don't even come close. Now, leave this kitchen. Immediately."
Clara stood frozen, her face flushing a deep, humiliated red. She looked at me, hoping for a rescue, but I kept my eyes on the pot. Finding no ally in me, she turned on her heel and walked out, her heels clicking a sharp, defeated rhythm.
I looked over at Alis, about to say something, but he shot me a gaze so piercing it practically pinned me to the spot. It was a look that clearly said: Shut your mouth and keep cooking.
I took the hint. I turned back to the stove, focusing entirely on the soup and the man I was making it for, realizing that when it came to protecting what was his, Alistair was far more dangerous than I ever gave him credit for.
When the soup was ready, I didn't bother with the formal dining room. I set the small, intimate table right there in the kitchen. It felt more like us. We sat across from each other, the steam rising between us, enjoying the quiet victory of the afternoon.
After we finished the meal, we stepped out of the kitchen. I held Alis close, his body warm against mine, and he was whispering something low and playful into my ear as we headed toward the stairs. We were just about to pass the living room when my mother's voice cut through the air.
"Alexander."
I turned to look at her, and she stood up, her face a mask of cold resolve. "I need to speak with you. Now."
I looked at Alis. He already knew what I was about to say, so he squeezed my hand and whispered, "I'll be in our bedroom." He gave my mother a curt nod and vanished up the staircase.
After he left, I sat down. My mother started by confirming she was leaving in the evening because she had something important to take care of. I simply nodded to her, saying, "Alright."
She glanced toward, where Clara was sitting in plain sight, before turning back to me, her expression hardened.
She mentioned that Clara had explained exactly how Alis treated her earlier. My mother looked at me with a judgmental frown. "Alis cannot give me a grandchild," she said bluntly, "and yet he is treating someone who can definitely give me a grandchild this way?"
That was it. Everything clicked. All this time, I had wondered why my mother never liked Alis and why she kept trying to hook me up with other women. It was all about the grandchild.
I looked at my mother and then at Clara, but I said nothing. I stood up, ready to walk away from the conversation, but my mother told me to stay. She turned to Clara instead and instructed her to go upstairs first.
Once Clara was gone, my mother leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"Listen to me, Alexander. I'm not trying to destroy your marriage. When I leave, Clara will leave with me. But you still need a woman in your life. It doesn't have to be her, it can be anyone. Start a life with her. Alis can stay. He can remain here, and she can be elsewhere. He never has to know about it. You can have your husband and your heirs."
I watched her speak, my heart sinking in my chest. I stared at her, refusing to believe this was the woman who had raised me.
I let out a dark, hollow chuckle. "You're actually sitting here asking me to cheat on my husband?"
"That's not cheating," she said quickly, her face completely serious. "It's a necessity. It's about the family line."
"If that isn't cheating, then what is?" I leaned forward, my gaze fixed on hers, cold and unflinching. "Tell me, Mom, how would you feel if Dad did exactly what you're suggesting? If he went out tomorrow, started a life with another woman, and kept her hidden from you? Would you still call that a 'necessity' then?"