“She wants to go. Just keep driving around until we say otherwise.” Xavier slipped a hundred-dollar-bill through the opening in the divider. “A pre-tip for your service. Thanks, man.”
The driver snatched the bill from his hand and sped off. “This is kidnapping,” I said furiously. “You are committing a crime.”
“You broke into my room twice in the past month, so consider us even.” Xavier smiled, but his eyes remained serious. “You can’t keep running from the hard stuff, Luna. Eventually, you’ll have to face what you’re so afraid of.”
“That’s ironic, coming from you.”
Xavier had spent half his life avoiding responsibility. He was the last person who should lecture me on running.
“True,” he acknowledged. “But I’m working on it.” I didn’t have a good answer to that.
I slumped against my seat, suddenly exhausted.
It was too much. Spain, Colombia, seeing Pen, getting my father’s email and finding out my sister was pregnant, kissing Xavier…The past month’s bombshells had hammered dent after dent into my walls, and I was so tired of holding them up.
“If you truly didn’t feel anything during our kiss, I’ll stop the car right now, and we’ll never discuss this again,” Xavier said quietly. “It won’t affect our work together, and we can pretend it never happened. But if there’s even a tiny part of you that thinks this can work...” He swallowed. “I’m not saying we have to get married or jump into a long-term relationship, but I want us to let each other in. Doesn’t have to go all the way to the rooms where we keep our secrets. Even the entrance hall will do for now.”
My laugh broke free of its own accord. “My God. That is the worst metaphor I’ve ever heard.”
“Hey, I never said I was a poet.” He gave me a crooked grin. “So, what do you say? They’re just dates, Luna. We’ll keep them discreet, and if it works, it works. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t. No harm, no foul.”
The responsible thing to do was shut this down once and for all. Nothing good could come of letting any man in, much less one as clever and charming as Xavier, and saying yes went against my vow not to get involved with clients.
But I would be lying if I said I felt nothing for him. Our kiss had made me feel more than anything else in recent memory, and I had the unsettling feeling that if I walked away, the what-ifs would haunt me for the rest of my life.
I hope I don’t regret this.
“Two months, effective immediately.” Just saying the words made my chest tighten, but I pushed back the worst-case scenarios threatening to surface. “We have until the end of December to determine whether this can go anywhere.”
“Like a trial period.”
“Yes.” I lifted my chin. “Do you have an issue with that?”
“Not at all.” Xavier’s grin deepened as he held out his hand. “We have a deal.”
It was my last chance to back out, but fuck it, I hadn’t come this far to chicken out now.
I slid my hand into his and tried to ignore the swoop of butterflies in my stomach. “We have a deal.”
CHAPTER 21
Sloane
“I won’t say I told you so, but I told you so,” Isabella said. “I knew you and Xavier would eventually give in to your sizzling, delicious—”
“Please stop. I’m in a cab, and I’m going to hurl.”
“I hope not, considering you’re on your way to a first date.” I could hear her grin over the phone. “Have fun. Fill us in on everything later, and don’t worry about the Perry thing. We got you.”
I hadn’t forgotten about Perry Wilson’s attempt to throw me under the bus. Since I was back in the city, I could focus on taking him down with some help from my friends.
“Thank you.” The cab rolled to a stop. “I’m here. Talk to you later.”
“Ooh. Send us a picture of—”
I hung up before Isabella said anything else inappropriate. I paid the driver and climbed the steps to Xavier’s West Village town house, the nerves in my stomach sprouting teeth and fangs.
It was Saturday, two days after my questionable decision to say yes to casually dating him (emphasis on the casual). Xavier didn’t tell me what he had planned, only that I should wear “cozy clothing,” and if it were anyone else, I would’ve balked the second he told me our first date was at his house. That was how charming serial killers lured their victims to their deaths.
My showing up anyway was either a testament to how comfortable I felt with him or how stupid I was. Honestly, I preferred the latter explanation over the former.
I lifted my hand, but the door opened before I could knock.
Xavier’s tousled black hair and lean, sculpted body filled the frame, and I was beset by the strange sensation of my heart sputtering. He wore his version of cozy: jeans and a fine cashmere sweater that outlined his broad shoulders and arms. No shoes.
For some reason, seeing him barefoot at home felt unbearably intimate.
I dropped my arm with a twinge of self-consciousness. “Hi.” “Hi.” His smile displayed a flash of his dimples. “Before you think I’m a creep who was waiting at the window, I came out to get this.” He picked up a small brown box from the front stoop. “You just happen to have perfect timing.”
“That’s not a knife you bought to murder me in your secret basement, is it?”
The dimples deepened. “I guess you’ll find out.” “Funny.”
I hung my coat on the brass tree by the door and followed him deeper into the town house. I’d visited once before to drop off some papers but never made it past the living room.
Xavier gave me a quick tour and explanation of each room we passed.
