CHAPTER 31: WEARING MY CLOTHES (II)

Alexia POV

Holy moly. This guy doesn’t just have a lot of clothes—it’s like his closet is a department store. Scratch that, not a closet—a freaking walk-in wardrobe that looks like something straight out of a luxury fashion magazine. The actual fuck.

I stood there, overwhelmed and a little irritated. Everything was male, obviously, and not just regular male clothes. Oh no, these were huge, stupidly expensive, and screamed, "Look at me, I have too much money to know what to do with." Honestly, it made me feel just a little—okay, a tiny bit—guilty for wanting to borrow his clothes. But let’s be real: the guy wouldn’t even notice if one piece went missing. Heck, he wouldn’t notice if ten of them vanished.

So, naturally, I decided to pick the least expensive-looking stuff. Easy, right? Wrong. Everything in there looked like it could fund a year’s rent. I sighed and resorted to the age-old, foolproof method of decision-making: pinky pinky ponky.

After a quick round of rhyming my way through his hangers, I ended up with a blue shirt and a pair of black trousers. Oh great. No sweatpants? I guess the pinky pinky ponky gods hate me today.

Now, these trousers were a problem. Long and just slightly too big, I had to get creative. I folded the sleeves of the shirt until my hands reappeared, did the same to the legs, and then found a belt to cinch the waist. Of course, his belts weren’t made for my size, so I had to poke an extra hole. But hey, after a little DIY tailoring, I looked... decent. Not runway-worthy, but at least I wasn’t parading around in a bathrobe anymore. Mission accomplished.

Feeling quite smug about my ingenuity, I made my way downstairs, ready to grab my things and head out. But before I could even figure out where I was going, a middle-aged man appeared out of nowhere, bowing slightly as he addressed me.

"Miss, are you going to take breakfast?" he asked, giving me a once-over.

I caught the slight frown he tried to hide while glancing at my outfit. What? It’s not like I stole these clothes. I borrowed them. Big difference.

Anyway, his question piqued my interest. Breakfast? In this house? Heck yes. That’s one of the perks of being engaged to a rich jerk—I get to eat like a queen. So, I nodded and followed him to the dining room, where I nearly fainted.

The table was laid out like a buffet at some five-star hotel: eggs, bacon, pancakes, toast—you name it. I could choose whatever I wanted and eat as much as I liked. It felt like I was back in the palace, and let me tell you, I wasn’t about to waste this opportunity. I piled my plate high, ate until I was full, and then some. No need to worry about lunch today. Yay, me!

Best part? I didn’t have to do the dishes. No scrubbing, no rinsing, nothing. I could get used to this life.

After breakfast, I figured it was time to go fetch my things. That’s when I realized I had absolutely no clue where this house was. Seriously, this place was in the middle of nowhere. So, I swallowed my pride and asked the same middle-aged man to call me a cab. Not only did he arrange one, but the guy also paid for it. God bless his kind soul.

And just like that, I was on my way, feeling full, slightly guilty, and ready to tackle the day. Well, maybe not tackle—more like casually poke it with a stick.

By the time I reached my old apartment, the place felt emptier than usual. No mother slurring insults or drunken lullabies, just an eerie silence. Well, except for the sound of someone rummaging through my stuff.

Instinctively, I went full action-hero mode. Without thinking, I lunged at the intruder, yelling as we tumbled to the floor. I tried to put him in a chokehold—something I’d seen on TV—but let’s just say, it wasn’t as effective as I hoped.

"Wait, wait!" the guy croaked, hands flailing to get me off.

It took a second, but I realized he wasn’t fighting back like a typical burglar. I loosened my grip, and he finally managed to speak. Turns out, he wasn’t here to rob me. He was one of the guys Aiden had hired to move my mom.

"Oh," I said, slightly embarrassed as I let him up.

Apparently, when they found my mom, she was passed out drunk on the floor. They carried her out, and she didn’t even stir. Classic Mom. Now that she was awake, she’d asked him to grab something of "value"—specifically, a stuffed toy she called Kitty.

Honestly, I didn’t know whether to laugh or groan. But hey, at least Aiden was keeping his end of the bargain. Reluctantly, I handed over Kitty, packed up the rest of my meager belongings, and told him I wanted to see where my mom was staying.

The guy, whose name I later learned was Nathaniel, had a car, so off we went. I wasn’t expecting much, but when we pulled up to a fancy bungalow, my jaw nearly hit the floor.

Okay, it wasn’t as extravagant as Aiden’s mansion, but it was still ridiculously posh—far too nice for someone who used to stumble home from the local dive bar with a bottle of cheap whiskey in hand.

I found my mom sprawled on the couch, looking surprisingly relaxed. As soon as she saw me, she bolted up and ran over, her face lighting up with excitement.

"Alex, my dear! I think we’re rich!"

"No kidding," I muttered, rolling my eyes.

I explained that this was all my fiancé’s doing and that I was going to get married soon. I didn’t mention the part about it being a loveless arrangement; no point in bursting her bubble.

Her reaction? Not even a hint of shock. Instead, she smiled smugly, telling me to keep doing whatever I was doing.

"I’m proud of you, Alex," she said. "You caught a big fish on your first try. Took me years of kissing frogs, and even then, the best I got was your father."

That was the first and last time she mentioned my dad. She didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t press. I knew better than to dig up old skeletons.

Satisfied with the liquor (which she claimed was "top shelf") and the new luxurious setting, Mom waved me off with a big grin.

"It’s getting late," Nathaniel said, offering to drive me back.

I said my goodbyes, leaving her in her newfound paradise, and headed back with Nathaniel. As much as I hated to admit it, Aiden was playing his cards right—at least where my mom was concerned.

By the time I knocked on Aiden’s door, I was utterly drained. Between the back-and-forth trips, packing up my stuff, and the impromptu wrestling match with Nathaniel, I was ready to collapse. Granted, I wasn’t as tired as I used to be after a double shift waitressing, but still, exhaustion had me swaying slightly on my feet.

The butler opened the door, all polite and professional, welcoming me back like I belonged there.

"Miss," he said with a respectful nod.

I stepped in, clutching my bag. "I’m fine," I assured him when he offered to help with it. It wasn’t that heavy, and besides, I wasn’t about to let anyone treat me like I couldn’t handle my own stuff.

Dropping onto the plush couch, I let out a sigh, feeling the weight of the day slowly ebb away. The butler appeared again, his calm demeanor almost soothing.

"What may I bring you as you wait?" he asked, his tone courteous as ever.

I thought for a moment. My stomach growled faintly, but I wasn’t in the mood to eat just yet. "Just water, please," I replied.

He nodded, gliding away toward the kitchen like he was floating. Meanwhile, I sank further into the couch, taking in the grandeur of the living room. The absurd luxury still felt foreign, but I couldn’t deny the appeal of being waited on.

As I waited, my mind wandered to Aiden. What would his reaction be when he saw me? Probably something between annoyance and frustration, knowing him. I couldn’t blame him entirely—I had left without telling him where I was going. But hey, he wasn’t exactly the poster boy for communication, either.

I took a deep breath, preparing myself for whatever confrontation was coming. Whatever this arrangement was, it wasn’t going to be smooth sailing.

If I had known what was about to happen, I would’ve changed into my own clothes. But nope, my lazy self had refused, convincing me that it wasn’t worth the effort. And did I mention I was bracing for a confrontation? Yeah, scratch that—it was more like gearing up for war.

I didn’t even notice Aiden until he was standing right in front of me, practically fuming. His chest was heaving, his jaw ticking, and his eyes...well, let’s just say they weren’t filled with love and affection. He glared at the clothes I was wearing like I’d personally set fire to his wardrobe.

"Remove those clothes. Now." His voice was sharp and commanding.

Excuse me? Chill, dude! I hadn’t torn them or anything. I even did a quick once-over to double-check—nope, no rips or stains. Just a little dust from the road, nothing major. What the hell was his problem?

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I shot back, crossing my arms. "You’ve got a mountain of clothes rotting in that closet, and you’re yelling at me for borrowing one outfit?"

His nostrils flared. "Take them off," he demanded again, his voice low but no less threatening.

And there it was. Proof he was a pervert. I knew it! Here he was, demanding I strip out of his clothes. What next? A lecture on boundaries while he ogled me? No way was I giving him that satisfaction.

I stayed rooted in place, my stubbornness kicking in. But before I could come up with a clever retort, he launched at me, his hands reaching for the buttons of the shirt.

"What the hell are you doing?" I yelped, scrambling backward.

Unfortunately, the couch wasn’t exactly designed for evasive maneuvers. One wrong step, and we both went tumbling down in a heap. The world tilted, and the next thing I knew, we landed with an audible thud.

And just my luck—he was on top of me.