Love Unspoken

In the midst of the silence, Alexander's voice pierced the air, calling out to Getty. Startled, she paused in the middle of touching up her makeup, her eyes flicking up to meet his. "What's wrong?" she queried, her tone laced with concern. "There's something..." Alexander hesitated, his sentence trailing off into the ether as Quinn latched onto his leg, her grip firm.

Rising from her seat, Getty's gaze flitted around, her brows furrowing.

"What's there?" she asked, her voice echoing in the room.

With a calmness that belied the situation, Alexander responded, "Nothing. Just a mouse ran by."

Getty's eyes widened in surprise. "A mouse? Here?" she exclaimed, her disbelief palpable.

Alexander's voice was soothing as he reassured her, "It's gone now. Don't worry."

With a nod, Getty returned to her seat, resuming her makeup application. Quinn, on the other hand, closed her eyes, a pang of regret washing over her. She couldn't help but feel that seeking him out had been a mistake.

Once her makeup was complete, Getty's impatience bubbled to the surface. "Are you not done yet?" she asked, her tone sharp.

Alexander's response was nonchalant as he picked up a folder, flipping through it casually. "It's still early," he replied, his gaze never leaving the pages.

she rose from her seat. "I'll wait for you downstairs at the café. Call me when you're finished," she instructed, her tone leaving

to glance at his desk. "Was there really a mouse?" she asked, her tone laced

one anymore," Alexander responded, his voice

office door, her heels clicking against the floor. The moment the door

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slender fingers gripped her collar, pulling her up from her hiding spot. She turned to look at him,

Alexander commanded, his hand covering her mouth

was helpless against his grip, her eyes closing in resignation. She didn't know how long it

leaning against the office desk. She glanced up, only to find Alexander straightening his clothes, his

a second glance, Alexander tidied his clothes and walked out, leaving behind a curt instruction, "Clean up

release. Quinn relaxed her tense body, cradling her slightly aching lower abdomen as she shakily rose to

disarray of the desk, documents strewn haphazardly across the floor. She propped her hands on the edge of the table, revealing a bandaged wrist,

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organizing the documents and tidying the floor. She moved to the window, throwing it open to let

body out of the room. Her head throbbed, a painful reminder of Alexander's