The soft chime of a bell echoed as Alexa stepped into the small corner store tucked beneath the shade of a crumbling brick building. The scent of paper, fabric, and warm air-conditioning greeted her like an old friend.
It wasn't busy. A few quiet footsteps. A sleepy radio hum in the background. Normal.
Her fingers brushed along folded scarves and leather wallets. Nothing expensive. Nothing loud. Just… things.
She moved slowly, letting her gaze wander. Her reflection caught in a dusty mirror — tired eyes, messy braid, lips pressed together in that same thoughtful frown.
"This doesn't change anything," she murmured under her breath. "It's just a day out. Just a break."
But even as she picked up a little wooden hairbrush and turned it in her hand, her mind tugged elsewhere.
She passed a shelf of teas. Her eyes caught a familiar label.
Black tea. No sugar. Bitter blend.
The one she'd seen in Levi's drawer the night he'd let her stay on the couch. She'd never tasted it — just saw him drink it like it was fuel, not comfort.
Her hand hesitated.
She stared at it.
Then, without a word, she placed a pack in her basket.
Next was a black scarf — simple, warm, thick. Something he'd wear without thinking. She added that too.
She kept walking.
"I'm not buying him anything," she said to herself under her breath. "Just… useful things. For the house."
As she moved through the aisles, a small set of notebooks caught her eye. One had a plain charcoal cover, the kind a businessman might keep for plans, thoughts, names he'd never say aloud.
She picked it up, flipping it open.
Blank.
Still waiting.
Her grip tightened slightly. Then she set it in the basket beside the tea and the scarf.
When she reached the checkout, the cashier — an older woman with kind eyes — gave her a knowing smile.
"Gifts?"
Alexa blinked. "What? Oh. No. Just… needed a few things."
The woman nodded. "Of course, dear."
Outside, the sun was beginning to fade behind the clouds. Alexa stood still on the sidewalk for a moment, her bag in hand, staring down the street toward nothing in particular.
She took a breath.
Then another.
And whispered, "Just for today."
She turned to walk back toward the black car waiting down the street — one of Levi's men already stepping out to open the door.
Her eyes didn't light up.
But for the first time in a long time…
…they didn't dim either.
She didn't go to the car.
Instead, she crossed to a quiet park bench shaded by an oak tree and sat down. For once, no shadows chased her. No cold voices. Just wind, sun, and the scent of vanilla from a bakery nearby.
She closed her eyes.
Just five more minutes.
Just to remember this.
*****
7:46 p.m.
The old grandfather clock in the hallway ticked louder than usual.
Levi Cross sat forward on the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at nothing—except maybe the empty space where Alexa should've already walked through.
"She said an hour," he muttered, jaw tight. "An hour ago."
He checked his watch again. The time hadn't changed since he last looked, but he looked anyway. Like maybe that would make her appear.
Outside, the sun dipped lower. Shadows stretched longer. His mansion, usually silent, felt too quiet tonight.
A soft shuffle came from the hallway.
Then—thump.
Levi glanced down.
The rabbit.
Her rabbit.
The little grey thing hopped in like it owned the place, stopped in front of him, and stared up with round, judgmental eyes. Between its tiny paws, a bright orange carrot. It nosed it toward him.
Levi narrowed his eyes. "You want me to feed you now?"
The rabbit tilted its head.
He sighed.
"I run empires. I start wars. I don't do… this."
Still, he bent down, took the carrot, and held it out.
The rabbit hopped closer and took a bite, chewing like this was the highlight of its day.
Levi scoffed under his breath. "Spoiled little rat."
But he didn't pull the carrot away.
He just watched the rabbit nibble, muttering something about losing his mind—
When a soft chuckle broke the air behind him.
He stiffened.
Turned.
Alexa stood at the threshold, bags in one hand, the other pressed over her mouth as she tried to stop laughing.
"Oh my god," she whispered. "You're feeding her?"
Levi straightened immediately, dropping the carrot like it burned him. The rabbit squeaked and hopped away.
He cleared his throat, voice sharp. "You're late."
Alexa stepped in slowly, still smiling. "And you were being nice."
"I wasn't," he said flatly. "She was begging. I gave her the food to shut her up."
Her smile widened. "Right. That's what it looked like. Total emotional detachment."
Levi crossed his arms. "You're lucky I didn't shut the door behind you."
She lifted an eyebrow. "You didn't even lock it."
He didn't reply.
His eyes scanned her—messy braid, flushed cheeks, heavy shopping bags. No injuries. No fear.
Just her.
"You went alone?" he asked, quieter now.
"I told your guy to circle the block."
Levi's mouth twitched. "You told my guy."
"I needed space."
"And what? A retail exorcism?"
She dropped one of the bags on the counter with a grin. "Something like that."
Levi followed her slowly into the kitchen, still pretending he wasn't watching her every step.
"You got everything you needed?"
She nodded. "A few things for me."
She hesitated. Then added, too casually, "And… some stuff for the house."
He paused. "For the house."
"Like tea," she said. "The one you drink when you're brooding."
"I don't brood."
"Of course not." She smiled. "You just sit in the dark, threaten people, and feed rabbits when no one's watching."
Levi gave her a long, unreadable look.
Then turned away.
"Don't make it a habit," he said.
"Shopping?"
"No," he said without turning back. "Coming home late. I don't like wondering."
Alexa's breath hitched. Just slightly.
Then, softer: "I'm here, aren't I?"
Levi didn't answer.
He just nodded once, took a pack of tea from the bag—and walked out.
The rabbit watched him go.
Then looked up at Alexa.
She crouched and scratched behind its ear. "He didn't mean it," she whispered.
The rabbit twitched its nose.
Neither of them believed her.
****
The rustle of paper filled the quiet as Levi sat on the edge of his bed, pulling out the things from Alexa's shopping bag one by one.
Black tea.
A thick, dark scarf.
A charcoal-black notebook.
His brows drew together.
None of these were hers.
He turned the tin of tea slowly in his hand, reading the faded label. It was rare—bitter, not sweet. He hadn't asked her for it. She'd never even tasted it. How did she know?
The scarf was soft. He rubbed the edge between his fingers, thoughtful. Something practical. Familiar.
And the notebook… blank pages. Empty. Waiting. Like she expected someone like him to fill it.
He stared at it too long.
Then—soft footsteps.
He looked up just as the door creaked open.
Alexa stood there in the doorway, barefoot, her hair a little messy, cheeks faintly flushed from the evening breeze.
And she was wearing his shirt.
It hung off her shoulders like it was made for her—long enough to reach her thighs, loose enough to shift every time she moved. His eyes dropped before he could stop himself. Then shot back up.
She smiled like she didn't notice.
"I hope I got the right brand," she said, walking in casually with a small plastic bag. "They didn't have the bitter blend in the usual section, but I spotted one behind some honey-lemon thing. Lucky, right?"
Levi didn't speak.
Didn't trust himself to.
She placed the bag on the dresser, then turned—catching him staring.
Her eyes dropped to the shirt.
"Oh," she said, pulling it down a little. "This? I found it in my wardrobe. It was there from the start. I didn't know it was yours."
"It is," he said, voice rough, immediate.
She blinked. "Well... sorry. You want it back?"
"No." His voice came lower this time. "Keep it."
She tilted her head. "You sure?"
He stood abruptly, like he needed to move, like if he stayed sitting, he'd keep staring. He walked toward the dresser—away from her. Away from how much skin that shirt didn't cover.
Alexa followed him with her eyes, arms crossing loosely as she leaned against the bedpost.
"You're welcome, by the way," she said.
He didn't turn. "For what?"
"The tea. The scarf. The notebook," she replied. "I thought they might be... useful."
Levi's grip on the dresser edge tightened slightly.
"You're not supposed to be paying attention to what I drink," he muttered.
"Well, too bad," she said with a grin. "I live here."
He still didn't turn.
The silence stretched again—charged this time. Like the room was holding its breath.
"I can go change if it bothers you," she added softly.
That made him face her.
Her shirt clung to her in the worst places. The outline of her chest visible now that the light hit her from the side. She wasn't wearing a bra. His eyes flicked there, then away. But the damage was done.
"It doesn't," he said finally—low, rough.
Her smile came slower now.
She moved across the room toward the window where the scarf sat and reached up to hook it over the curtain bar. The shirt lifted as she stretched, revealing the bare top of her thigh—white, smooth, distracting.
Levi didn't move.
Couldn't.
His heart was beating too fast for that.
She turned back, eyes bright. "Looks better like this, right?"
He didn't answer.
Didn't need to.
Levi didn't move.
Couldn't.
She turned back from the window, catching him staring again—but this time, she said nothing. She just looked at him. Quiet. Still.
And that was worse.
Her silence. Her bare legs. His shirt draped over her like it belonged.
The room felt smaller. Hotter.
She took one step closer. Not seductive. Just... present.
Levi's jaw tightened.
"Alexa," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "You're seducing me."
She blinked. "What?"
He stepped forward now. One hand lifting, slow, deliberate—until his fingers caught the edge of her chin.
Her breath hitched slightly at the touch.
He tilted her face up, eyes burning into hers, voice a low drawl, sharp with heat.
"Since you know how my black tea tastes…"
His thumb brushed her lower lip.
"…why don't I know how your lips will taste too?"