“This doesn’t involve you,” Mark snapped, but he took a tiny step to the right, away from Xavier. “I still don’t know who the fuck you are.”
“You don’t need to know who I am.” Xavier’s affable smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You do, however, need to take a hint. Sloane broke up with you, and you didn’t listen. She told you to leave, and you didn’t listen. That’s two strikes. I highly suggest you don’t make a third.”
Some people’s anger ran hot, exploding in outbursts and impulsive violence.
Xavier’s ran cold, smoothing his tone, frosting the air, and sending another breathless shiver over my skin.
I could and did take care of myself. I didn’t want to play the damsel in distress, and I didn’t need a man barging in to reiterate things I’d already said.
But fuck, sometimes it felt good to have backup, especially when it came wrapped in muscles and devastating charm.
Mark’s gaze slid from Xavier to me and back again. Whatever he saw in our faces must’ve spooked him because he turned tail and fled without another word.
My fork clattered against my plate when he disappeared from view. I’d clutched it in a death grip this entire time, and the metal left a cold imprint against my skin.
Xavier dropped his arm from the booth, tension unwinding from his body like a spool of rope. The dangerous gleam vanished from his eyes, and he observed me for a quiet moment.
“Luna,” he said, “you have unequivocally shitty taste in past men.”
I groaned, already over this day even though it was only noon. “Thank you for brunch, but we’re done here.” I tossed a twenty on the table for tip, grabbed my bag, and stood. “I have...” He knew about my cleared calendar. Dammit, Jillian. If she weren’t such a great assistant otherwise, I would fire her for sharing that information with Xavier. “Emails to check.”
“I certainly hate to keep you from your emails, but we haven’t finished our earlier conversation, as you kindly pointed out to Meathead Central.” Xavier flagged down our server and paid our bill before following me out of the restaurant. “Give me a good reason why we can’t date besides our working relationship.”
“That should be enough reason.” I purposely turned away from him and scanned the street for a passing cab. A quick phone check told me it would be faster than trying to hail an Uber.
“Working relationships come and go, Luna. Personal ones don’t.” A small pause. “At least, they shouldn’t.”
“Are you firing me?”
“No, I’m saying we can work around the publicist-client thing. Hell, we can watch one of those rom-coms you love—er, love to hate-watch—so much for inspiration,” Xavier amended when I glared at him. “Hollywood must’ve come up with a dozen strategies for this sort of thing.”
“I told you, rom-coms are unrealistic. Hollywood isn’t real life.” I whirled to face him. “You just told Mark to know when to take a hint. Why are you being so insistent about this?”
“Because I want you.”
Simple. Matter-of-fact. And a fierce, unexpected blow to my chest.
The air evacuated from my lungs as I stared at Xavier. His eyes and mouth had sobered, wiping away the irreverence and leaving only sincerity behind.
“I don’t want a kiss or a one-night stand,” he said. “I want you. I want to know you outside work. I want to take you on real dates. And I don’t know if it’ll work out in the end, but I want us to at least try.”
For God’s sake, Sloane, no one wants to date a block of ice.
A thick sensation crawled into my throat and curled up there. “Trust me.” I strangled my bag strap with one hand. “You don’t want to know me outside work.”
When I was working, no one blamed me for being cold or direct. They expected it. When I was dating…that was a whole different matter.
“Let me be the judge of that.” Xavier’s voice softened. “What are you so afraid of?”
A wretched tingle spread behind my eyes and nose. “Nothing.” I averted my gaze to the street, where honking cars and jaywalking pedestrians provided enough stimulation to obscure my real answer.
I’m afraid of letting someone in again. I’m afraid of getting my heart broken.
I’m afraid that, if you get to know the real me, you’ll find me unlovable like everyone else, and it’ll hurt so much more because it’s you.
My past was my past. I’d been young, stupid, and inexperienced, and I’d dated plenty of other men since my first heartbreak. I hadn’t been afraid of giving them a chance because I knew they wouldn’t breach my defenses.
Xavier? He had the potential to destroy the entire system. “Sloane.” His light touch seared my arm. “Look at me.” “No.” I hardened my resolve and thrust out my arm to hail a passing cab. “We’ll go over your PR plan later. I’m taking the rest of the day off.”
By that, I meant I was going to catch up on my emails at home, take a nice long bubble bath, indulge in a glass of wine and a movie…and not think about Xavier Castillo in any way, shape, or form.
The cab screeched to a halt in front of me. I opened the door and climbed in. Xavier climbed in after me.
“What are you doing?” I demanded. “This is breaking and entering!”
“It’s a cab.”
“That you’re breaking and entering into.” I rapped my knuckles against the divider separating us from the front seat. “You have an intruder in your car. I don’t know this man. Please dispose of him immediately.”
The driver glanced in the rearview mirror, unimpressed. “Weren’t ya just talking to him a second ago?”
“He was talking to me.”
“We were talking to each other,” Xavier corrected. “I—”
The driver released a huge sigh. “Look, lady, I don’t got time to deal with a lovers’ spat. You wanna go or not?”
“We’re not—”
