Chapter 9
**G R A C E**
I tilt my head to look at the long flight of stairs and down at my feet where 3 suitcases and one duffle bag wait for me to carry them up to the mysterios room. suddenly the lack of sleep starts to catch up to me. I push the pulley down and grab the handle of the biggest suitcase. My hands try to pull it up with me, but it doesn’t budge. I look down at it, something seems stuck, I use one of my feet to support the base of the bag and lift it up. It hardly pull it up one stair when my foot slips and I let the bag drop back to the floor.
I sigh loudly and let go of the bag, this isn't working. I might just have to push that blue button.
*Or I could call Sophia.* A few bags up a flight of stairs is cake for her.
I let the bag stand in its place and pull my phone out. Sophia is on my quick dial, she’s always been, and I am hers. I put the phone to my ear and barely hear one ring when the phone is pulled out of my hand.
I turn with the force of the pull to find Alex, standing in front of me, my phone now in his hand. Even from one step down, he is taller than me. His head bowed slightly to level me with a gaze full of warning. His striking green eyes narrowing at me like I have just commited the seven deadly sins against him. *What is wrong with this man?*
“What do you think-”
“Who were you calling?” he asks, stepping on to the step I am on without warning, his clipped tone making me forget my words. My feet try to move backwards, making me get on the next step though its doesn't help much, he is still very close and galring at me very uncomfortably. I look around to figure out what is happening but he tilts his head at me as if I am the one inconveniencing him here.
I scoff weakly before I answer. “Um, I don’t think that concerns you, Alex." I say but the look that passes in his eyes at the mention of his name from my mouth makes me take my words back and I add, "Mr. Moretti.”
He cocks his eyebrow at my audacity which he evidently isn't enjoying. I still wait patiently for him to explain this uninvited breach of my privacy (though I shouldn't be sirprised after what happened this morning) but he only stands there as if deciding whether or not I am worthy of him opening his mouth and talking to me. I clear my throat when I can't take the pressure anymore and raise my hand, palm up between us for my phone, but instead of giving me my phone back, he looks at it. The screen shows one of Sophia and my wasted selfies with her name saved as ‘Mia Cara’. He narrows his dark green eyes at me before tapping on the red icon and hanging up on the call. “Why were you calling Sophia?”
Excuse me? Is this man for real? I can’t believe I am having this conversation, this is absurd. I wait for him to realise the same thing and step back but he is looking at me sincerely waiting for an answer.. “I don’t think I have to answer you, and I definitely do not appreciate you demand it from me in that tone.” I say and reach for my phone, but he turns it off and thrusts it in the pocket of his joggers.
“What the fuck, man!”
A corner of his mouth raises into a wicked smile when I lose my temper. “Cute,” he has the audacity to say. “Why did you call my sister?” He asks again, stepping once more onto the step I’m on, pushing me further up the stairs.
I frown and struggle to find my balance but he stands unbothered with his hands in his pockets. “I need help with my bags.” Obviously.
He smiles wide, confusing me to my wits before his mouth contracts again to his 'I don't give a fuck' face and says, “Doesn’t answer my question.”
“Then you probably want to use your br-” one of his eyebrows rise, and I feel compelled to not complete my insult that is so ready on my tongue. I close my mouth, he is older. I should probably repect the elders. I gulp under his unwaivering and pinning gaze. “She is my friend, friends help each other.” I reply but he stands as he was and stares at me so blankly, I almost think he didn’t hear me until I notice a muscle twitch in his jaw–his very defined jaw, I notice unwillingly–and he gives me a very intimidating nod.
“Right, they do.” he says finally, but he doesn’t return my phone. Instead, he steps off the stairs, picks another one of my bags and then carries both of them up, stopping briefly next to me on the step I’m on. I stop breathing when he turns to face me, uncomfortably close and alarmingly hot.
The look he passes over me tells me he knows I was the one swimming, and right now he can see right through my clothes. And then he speaks, and I have no spec of doubt left any more.
“How about you make friends with me now, Miss Millers?” My forehead contracts into a mess of a frown, while he smirks.
*No*, I want to say. *There is no need. I am good.*
But I don’t dare to open my mouth, he is standing too close, there is only enough space for one of use to move our lips between us. But as if he hears my mind, his smirk becomes a sly smile as he adds, “I insist.”