A night with Alexander Cain is one thing that you can’t never forget. The man is just one of a kind. I just wish that everyone, every girl and woman who has ever been mistreated badly by some douchebag can get someone like this man.

We all deserve to feel special.

Are you catching feelings? My subconscious curiously asks.

I don’t get to answer her as the door opens to reveal a shirtless Alexander, holding a massive tray filled with food.

I have been laying in his bed, lost in my thoughts when I woke up without him next to me.

“Breakfast is served”, he places the tray in the middle of the bed.

I move the pillow I am hugging to the side. The very same pillow he slept on . I was creepily sniffing his scent on it like some drug finding hound at the airport.

His eyes catch my movements, even though I was trying to be discreet. He smiles at my silliness.

After a quick brushing of my teeth I walk back into the bedroom and sit on the bed with him next to me.

He pulls the tray towards us. My eyes go over the delicious looking food.

Cheesy bacon and spinach frittata, fluffy pancakes with berries and whipped cream, a bowl of fruit and some fizzy looking reddish drink alongside a steaming mug of black coffee.

My salivary glands are on overdrive, as the spit practically pools at my mouth.

He looks at me with a grin, as I start with the coffee. My eyes close as the first sip hits the back of my throat.

“You like it?”, he says taking a sip of his coffee.

“Yes”, I slightly lean over to him. He gets the message and moves closer as his lips capture mine in a sweet kiss.

“Thank you Lex”. He beams at my new nickname for him.

I like it.

I’ve been playing around with what I should call him for a while now because Alexander is a very long name. Tommy and Isadora already call him Xander, so this one works for me and judging by the smile he gave me when I called him that, he likes it too.

I dig into the food. Well I don’t exactly do the heavy lifting myself. He feeds me like a baby.

It’s actually cute because while I chew, he takes a forkful too.

“What’s this?”, I ask him about the fizzy drink after I take a sip. It tastes really good. Like a very fruity alcoholic drink.

“Pomegranate mimosa” he replies.

Is this man trying to get me drunk at 9am on Saturday?

The pancakes are the personification of a cloud in your mouth. Whoever taught this man how to cook is a genius.

He scoops up some whipped cream with his index finger.

“Open up” his finger near my lips.

I obey and the cream covered finger enters my mouth.

Swirling my tongue around his finger, I don’t stop looking at his eyes. They get darker, his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

As he pulls it out, I purposefully graze my front teeth and bite on his nail bed.

“Rosalie”, his gravelly voice warns.

I bite down a little harder before letting it go.

“Tastes great”, I say with an innocent smile.

He looks at his finger, like he can’t believe what just happened.

After the most intimate, and slightly erotic breakfast I have ever had. I spend the day indoors with the man of my dreams. He promised to not get too busy with work so that he could spend time with me.

I shower, wear another one of his tshirts. I realise I have no fresh panties so I sprint to my old room to see if I can find any there.

Thankfully the shirt is basically a dress on me, so my bum is not exposed. I walk into the old space that I used to sleep in.

Nothing has changed.

Opening the closet I see that my ‘work clothes’ are still there. I walk towards the drawers and I find underwear. I pull on a black lace thong.

Walking out, I run my fingers through the clothes that were specifically bought for me by Miss June. I found that out last night when I asked him how he knew my size in everything.

Apparently he ran a background check on me as he does for every employee of his. I remember scoffing at that because I don’t think employee background checks included knowing the underwear size of your maid.

“You were a special case”, he had said to me last night when I spoke about the underwear size.

I am having the time of my life watching Pride and Prejudice. Warmth from the throw blanket and Alexander are making me feel like I’m a cookie being baked in an oven.

I lay on his chest as he runs his fingers through my curls. I think he likes my hair like this. His hands have somehow found their way into my curls at any moment he could the whole day.

The end credits roll up at about 6pm. I move my head from his chest and stretch my limbs, since I have been curled up next to him for a few hours.

“What do you wanna have for dinner?” he asks from the couch as I stand in front of him,

I don’t miss how his gaze lingers on my exposed thighs as I continue to stretch. I put on one of his hoodies over the tshirt.

I don’t feel like cooking tonight and I also don’t want him to be on his feet making me dinner. He already did too much today with a romantic breakfast and lunch that he insisted on preparing.

“Are you opposed to eating greasy, unhealthy food?”, I sheepishly ask him.

“Not at all, we’ll get whatever you want”.

A few minutes later we’re parked in front of a pizzeria. We walked out of the car, Alexander ever so generously opening the door for me. It smells like baked dough and spices.

The place is very edgy but modern at the same time. Exposed brick walls, and concrete floors with posters of black and white movie stars and a large framed Italian flag.

I have never been here before, in fact I didn't even know that this place existed until now.

“Xander”, a man with a big belly and a dark moustache walks out to us from around the counter. He looks like a younger Italian version of French Pierre.

“Franco”, Alexander and the man hug each other.

“It’s good to see you, it has been a while” his accent is not too thick.

Alexande nods with a smile, “It has been too long”. He turns to me “This is Rosalie, my girlfriend”.

My heart once again melts like butter on a hot summer’s day.

“Franco Lombardi ”, he takes my hand and kisses the back of it. His mustache tickles the skin.

“So what would you like?”, his tone is loud and happy.

“Rosalie?”, Alexander asks.

“May I look at your menu please?”.

Franco leads us to a table and places a giant A3 menu on top of the table.

Since I have free reign over what we’re going to eat, I choose two large pizzas. One chicken and mushroom, and a Mad Italian with figs and rocket. A favourite of mine.

Alexander seems pleased by my choices as he smiles at me when I tell Franco.

The place is thankfully not empty. It’s practically empty with us and a family of four who are seated three tables away from us.

“Stop staring”, I say to him, suddenly feeling shy.

He has been doing that quite a lot today. I would randomly catch him looking at me, I like it but at the same time I don’t. I’m not used to having someone’s attention on me all the time.

I’ve never been the sole focus of anyone….well except my parents and God.

“I can’t, you’re beautiful”, his hand holds mine over the table.

Blush creeps up my cheeks. He’s just saying that. I’m not even dressed properly. I have on his giant hoodie and a pair of leggings I found in my old room. I put on some dark Converse on my feet that I also got from the pile of clothes and shoes that’s still in the mansion.

He is the one that looks good in anything he has on. He also is wearing a hoodie with black Nike sweatpants that fit him so perfectly, he has white vans on his feet.

What 39 year old man dresses like this? He looks like a college boy with his young looking face.

This man is ageless.

Franco brings our order in two large boxes, which Alexander carries.

“Nice to meet you Rosalie, come again soon”, he smiles at me.

“I definitely will Franco, have a good evening”.

The drive back to the mansion is a quick one. Alexander is a good and safe driver but sometimes he drives like Gigi.

I think there’s some sadistic part of him that likes seeing me scared to death.

Yup.

There definitely is, the grin he has when he opens the door for me tells me that he enjoys making me freak out over my fear of dying by car accident.

I freak out about dying of anything.

I just…

Death freaks me out, okay?

Going back into our cocoon of throw blankets and cushions, we watch Weather Gone Viral on Discovery while we eat our pizza.

I don’t know if it’s just me but there is a weirdly comforting sense that comes over you when you watch tornadoes form while clogging your arteries with grease.