Chapter 778

The night was ink-black. Alexander Hamilton stood outside the convenience store, a freshly bought cigarette between his fingers. He watched the smoke dissipate under the streetlight, feeling strangely dazed.

"Sir, your change." The clerk's voice snapped him back to reality.

He pocketed the coins absently. His phone screen lit up with a message from Emily Zade. He glanced at it once before turning it off.

Annabelle Taylor was a thing of the past. He thought he'd moved on. But tonight's alcohol seemed particularly potent, dredging up memories he'd rather forget.

"Alexander?"

A familiar voice came from behind. He turned to see Evelyn Carter standing under the streetlight, her slender frame outlined in warm yellow.

"What are you doing here?" His voice came out hoarse.

She stepped closer, catching the scent of alcohol on him. Her brows furrowed. "You're drunk."

He wanted to deny it, but realized he could barely stand straight. Under the moonlight, Evelyn's face was strikingly clear. He suddenly wanted to reach out and touch her.

"Get up. I'll take you home." She reached to steady him.

The word "home" sent a tremor through him. He followed her obediently to the car, then froze at the sight of the steering wheel.

"That's my seat." He stubbornly climbed into the driver's side.

Evelyn was torn between irritation and amusement. "In your condition?"

He blinked, finally registering his state, and sheepishly moved to the passenger seat. Evelyn discreetly snapped a photo of his rare moment of vulnerability.

During the drive, Alexander felt unbearably hot. He loosened his collar, but still couldn't catch his breath.

"Do you have a fever?" Worried, Evelyn pressed a hand to his forehead—burning to the touch.

"Hot..." he mumbled, finding her cool skin soothing. He nuzzled against it instinctively.

Evelyn immediately changed course. The family home had elders and children; it was too risky. She called her mother. "Mom, we won't be back tonight—"

Grace Anderson was preoccupied with a crying baby. "This child just won't settle—"

Evelyn patiently gave instructions, but her gaze caught Alexander standing outside in the night breeze. She quickly ended the call and took his hand. "Stop catching a chill. Let's go upstairs."

The apartment was unchanged. Evelyn found fever reducers, but Alexander grabbed her wrist. His scorching palm pressed against her skin, his gaze hazy yet intense.

"Evelyn..." Her name was a ragged whisper on his lips.

The next moment, he pulled her into a tight embrace. His body temperature was alarmingly high, his breath searing against her neck. Just as she tried to push away, he captured her earlobe between his teeth.

"Alexander!" she gasped, only to be swept off her feet.

He carried her steadily toward the bedroom—nothing like a drunken man. As he laid her gently on the bed, she tried to rise, but he dropped to one knee before her.

"You faked being drunk?" Her eyes widened.

Alexander looked up at her. The alcohol hadn't entirely left his eyes, but his focus was unmistakable. He cradled her calf, pressing a kiss to her knee.

"I want to make you happy," he murmured, his lips trailing upward along her skin.

Evelyn's breath hitched, her fingers clutching the sheets. Outside, the moon slipped behind clouds, leaving only the intimacy of the room.