Chapter 3 — Behind Closed Doors

Reece

Reece Alexander’s penthouse was quiet, but not the serene kind of quiet that offered peace. It was the hollow, oppressive quiet that pressed down on your chest like a weight. The faint hum of the city filtered through the glass walls—distant car horns, the occasional wail of a siren—a reminder of the bustling world below. Yet, up here, the silence reigned, vast and suffocating.

He stood by the floor-to-ceiling window in the living room, one hand clutching a crystal tumbler of whiskey, the other shoved into the pocket of his tailored trousers. He rotated the glass slowly, the faint clink of ice against the sides breaking the oppressive stillness. The amber liquid gleamed faintly, catching the glow of the city lights, but its warmth was meaningless, much like the untouched furnishings around him. The dining table, long and sleek, sat as pristine as ever, its surface reflecting the overhead lighting. The couch bore no evidence of anyone truly living here, its gray cushions unrumpled, the air around it faintly carrying the antiseptic scent of polished marble.

Reece caught his reflection in the glass—tall, broad-shouldered, impeccably dressed. The perfect image of control, discipline, and success. But even as he stared at the man in the window, he felt the cracks beneath the surface. His fingers tightened briefly around the tumbler before he set it down on the nearby coffee table, the faint sound echoing in the cavernous space.

The day replayed in his mind, fragments of interaction surfacing unbidden. Alessia Cora’s voice lingered—firm but tinged with nerves when she had stammered her apology for the mistake in the report. Yet what had struck him wasn’t the error or even her quick correction. It was her sincerity, the stubborn determination that radiated from her as she worked to fix it. There was an honesty to her effort, a warmth he hadn’t encountered in years. He frowned slightly, pushing the thought aside. It wasn’t the time.

The soft click of heels against marble snapped him back to the present, and his shoulders stiffened slightly at the approaching sound. He didn’t turn as Hailey’s sleek silhouette appeared in the doorway, her tall, willowy frame outlined by the muted glow of the hallway light. She leaned casually against the frame, one manicured hand resting on it, the picture of elegance.

“Staring at the skyline again?” Her voice slid into the room, smooth and sharp, as deliberate as the way she adjusted the diamond bracelet on her wrist. The faint clink of platinum against her skin was a sound he knew well, its rhythm often accompanying the tension between them.

Reece turned slowly, his expression carefully neutral, though his tone carried the edge of weariness. “I wasn’t aware I needed an audience.”

Hailey stepped into the room, the soft click of her heels marking her measured approach. Her black dress accentuated her striking frame, every detail of her appearance meticulously curated. But her eyes betrayed her: a flicker of unease beneath the polished exterior, a tension she couldn’t quite hide.

“You’re always so dramatic,” she said with a faint smirk, though it faded quickly. “Long day at the office?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his gaze flicked to the untouched whiskey glass before he finally spoke. “You could say that.”

Her posture shifted slightly, the subtle tension in her frame sharpening. She folded her arms, the bracelet catching the dim light as she adjusted it again, her fingers lingering on the clasp. “Ah, so we’re doing this again.”

“Doing what?” Reece asked, his voice calm but with an undercurrent of exasperation. He leaned back slightly against the window, crossing his arms over his chest. “Having a conversation? Or pretending we’re strangers passing in the same room?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, she said nothing. The silence between them thickened. Finally, she moved to the couch and perched on the edge, her movements as deliberate as ever. Her posture was perfect, her legs crossed, but her hands fidgeted with the bracelet in a rare break from her composure.

“You’ve been... distant,” she said finally, her voice tight but edged with vulnerability. “More so than usual.”

Reece arched a brow, his expression unreadable. “Have I? Or is this just another round of dissecting whatever I’ve done wrong this week?”

Her jaw tightened, her mask of calm slipping for the briefest moment. “This back-and-forth... it’s draining, Reece. I can’t do it anymore.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and sharp. He felt his chest tighten, though his face remained neutral. He exhaled slowly. “I’m not the only one pulling away, Hailey,” he said, his tone quieter now. “You’ve built walls just as high as mine. Don’t act like this is all on me.”

Her eyes flashed, and for the first time, the vulnerability in her gaze took form. “And why do you think I’ve built those walls?” Her voice cracked slightly, and she broke eye contact, her fingers gripping the bracelet tightly. “Because every time I try to reach you, you’re not there.”

Reece dragged a hand down his face, his frustration tempered by a pang of something deeper—guilt, maybe. He couldn’t tell anymore. “I’ve tried, Hailey,” he said quietly, his eyes fixed on the marble floor. “I’ve tried to give you what you need. I’ve tried to be the person you wanted me to be. But... I don’t think I know how anymore.”

Her lips parted as if to respond, but no words came. Instead, her shoulders sagged, and she turned her gaze to the window, the city lights reflecting faintly in her eyes. “What do you want, Reece?” she asked finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “Honestly. What do you want from this... from us?”

The question pierced through the silence, echoing in his mind long after the words themselves faded. He hesitated, his jaw tightening as he searched for an answer that wouldn’t come. What did he want? The image of the dining table flitted through his thoughts—pristine, unused—and then Alessia’s voice echoed faintly, unbidden.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and strained. “I don’t know.”

Her shoulders tensed at the admission, and for a moment, it looked like she might say something, might reach for him. But instead, she straightened, smoothing her dress as she stood. Her expression was carefully neutral, the vulnerability she’d shown moments ago now locked away. “That’s the problem, isn’t it?” she said quietly. “You don’t know. And I’m not sure I do either.”

The silence that followed was deafening. It wasn’t the comforting silence of understanding, but the hollow kind that marked the end of a conversation, or perhaps something more.

“I’m going to bed,” Hailey said after a long pause, her voice crisp but devoid of warmth. She adjusted the bracelet on her wrist one last time, the clasp catching briefly before snapping into place. “Goodnight, Reece.”

He watched her retreat down the hall, her footsteps fading into the quiet. He didn’t follow. Instead, he turned back toward the window, leaning against the cool glass. The city buzzed faintly below, a stark contrast to the frozen stillness that surrounded him.

What do you want, Reece?

The question returned, louder this time, and his reflection stared back at him as though demanding an answer. His eyes drifted to the monogrammed fountain pen sitting on the coffee table near the glass of whiskey, its polished surface catching the faint light. He thought of the warmth Alessia brought to her work—the determination, the sincerity. It was a fleeting thought, but one that lingered in the back of his mind, unwelcome yet undeniable.

Something had to change.

Reece turned away from the window, the weight of the silence pressing down on him once more.