Love Unspoken

Quinn's fingers curled tightly around the fabric of his sleeve, her silence stretching out into a palpable tension. Her gaze, locked onto his, was filled with uncertainty, her emotions a tumultuous sea she couldn't navigate. Suddenly, Alexander rose from his seated position, leaving Quinn alone on the couch. He pivoted, ready to make his exit.

In a swift, desperate motion, Quinn reached out, her hand once again finding purchase on his sleeve. Alexander paused, his gaze softening momentarily as he looked back at her. The plea in her eyes was impossible to ignore. But the moment was fleeting. The shrill ring of his phone cut through the silence, demanding his attention. He pulled the device from his pocket, answering the call under Quinn's watchful eyes. Getty's voice echoed from the speaker, "Alexander, it's been days. Where are you?"

"At home," he replied.

Getty's irritation was palpable at his response, a reaction she had every time he uttered those two words. Yet, she maintained her composure, "I'm back in Amber Bay. Come see me."

Alexander didn't respond. Instead, he cast a sidelong glance at Quinn, who was still clutching his sleeve. But as she met his indifferent gaze, her grip loosened, her hand falling away from him.

It was only then that Alexander responded to Getty, "Where are you?"

"I just landed. Could you pick me up at the airport?"

"Sure."

the call. Without sparing another glance

following his retreating figure. She bit her lip, her head bowing in silent resignation as the door closed

to the airport, the distance causing him to arrive later than expected. Getty had been waiting in the parking lot, her patience wearing thin. But her irritation evaporated as a Bentley pulled up smoothly in front of her. The window

trunk before taking his place in the back seat. Getty threw her arms around Alexander as soon as she was settled, resting her head on

he responded, his tone as cold as ever.

Alexander. The rumors about Getty's benefactor being a tall, rich, and handsome man were indeed true. One look at the sharp eyes reflected in the rearview mirror was enough to tell the agent that Alexander was not a

and her waning interest in acting. She even whimsically

sensed his unusual quietness. She stopped her rambling and turned to him, "Alexander, why are you so quiet? Is something

came across some news a few days ago. Did something happen

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