He doubled over from the impact and clutched his stomach, gasping for breath. I didnāt give him a chance to catch it before I hauled him up by his collar and slammed him against a nearby locker.
āThat was your first and final warning,ā I said, my words quiet enough to reach only his ears. āTouch, talk, or even think about Sloane again, and Iāll make what Richard McEntire did to that ball boy with his tennis racket look like a walk in the fucking park. That includes any indirect contact. If you make her life difficult in any way, youāll be blacklisted from New York society so fast, itāll make your head spin.ā
āYou donāt have the power,ā Bentley sneered, but a glint of fear swam beneath his murky eyes. For someone like him, getting blacklisted was even worse than getting beat up.
āNo?ā I said softly. āTry me.ā
I didnāt abuse my familyās wealth or last name often, but I was still a Castillo. Even with my inheritance tied up and my reputation as a hedonist, I could crush Bentley Harris II like a fucking bug.
He knew it as well as I did, which was why he didnāt say a word when I dropped him on the ground like a sack of potatoes.
āPass the message along to your wife,ā I said, my face hardening. āThe same goes for her.ā
I wouldnāt touch Georgia. Sloaneās relationship with her sister was her domain, but that didnāt mean I had to stand by and watch while Georgia tried to tear down the woman I loved.
Loved.
It was a strange concept, and not one Iād had experience with in the past. But now that Iād identified it, I couldnāt believe it had taken me so long to recognize it.
The way my mind mapped every detail about Sloane, both consciously and unconsciously, like I would drown if I didnāt inhale enough of her. The comfort I had in sharing my secrets with her, and the spike in my pulse whenever she was near. The warmth; the jealousy; the fierce, overwhelming protectiveness.
I loved her, totally and completely, and Iād be damned if I let anyone hurt her.
Bentley mustāve heard the vicious resolve edging my voice because he didnāt attempt to save face in front of his peers. The othersā shouts had died down to grumbles of disappointment at how quickly the fight had ended, but I hadnāt expected it to drag on.
At the end of the day, people like Bentley Harris were cowards. Cowards never lasted long in the face of those willing to call their bluff and I knew, with bone-deep certainty, that he and Georgia would never bother Sloane again.
I stepped over Bentleyās sprawled legs and walked out, leaving him bleeding and humiliated on the floor.
I didnāt bother acknowledging the other club members or taking advantage of the empty courts on my way out.
My business here was done.
CHAPTER 36
Sloane
I shouldāve been embarrassed about breaking down over a goldfish, of all things, but itād been surprisingly cathartic, at least with Xavier. I suspected I wouldāve felt differently had I opened the door and seen anyone else.
But I hadnāt, and heād been here, and heād stayed. Overnight.
That was already a big deal for me because I didnāt let random men in my personal space. But he wasnāt a random man; he was him, and the house felt so much more vibrant when he was there that Iād thrown caution to the wind and invited him over for the weekend.
That was right. I, Sloane Kensington, had willingly invited someone to stayācount themāone, two, three nights with me, and I didnāt dread it.
Who even am I?
In keeping with the mushy-sentimental-aliens-abducted-my-body theme, I also tried to play Martha Stewart on Friday night. The results wereā¦mixed.
āHave you ever baked before?ā Xavier leaned against the doorframe and arched an eyebrow at my attempt to make chocolate chip cookies while a batch of cupcakes baked in the oven. Amusement played in his gaze, along with a hint of concern.
Iād barely used my appliances before tonight. I usually ate out or ordered in; the kitchen was there for show and the occasional cup of coffee.
āNo, but Iām a fast learner.ā I frowned at the recipe Iād printed out.
Cream together butter and sugars. What the hell did that mean? Was I supposed to stir the ingredients so they were mixed? If so, why didnāt the writer say stir instead of the maddeningly vague cream?
āAre you?ā Xavier sounded skeptical, which I didnāt appreciate.
āYes.ā Fuck it. I was stirring. You couldnāt go wrong with a good stir.
āNot that I donāt believe you, darling, but your cupcakes are burning.ā
The wail of the smoke alarm drowned out the last piece of his sentence, and an acrid smell filled my nostrils.
āShit!ā I spun in time to see smoke billowing from the oven. I opened the door and coughed as a cloud of pale gray fumes enveloped me.
One burned hand, one opened window, and several fans of a magazine later, the alarm cut off, plunging us into silence.
We stared at the tray of blackened cupcakes on the table.
Xavier dropped the magazine heād used to fan the smoke into the recycling bin. āCrumble & Bake delivers,ā he said carefully. āPerhaps we should order in.ā
My shoulders slumped. āI guess we should.ā
Half an hour later, we curled up on my couch with a Nate Reynolds movie and a box of Crumble & Bakeās cupcakes. Iād abandoned my cookie batter in the kitchen, which was for the best, though I wasnāt happy about it.
āI wanted to try something new,ā I grumbled. āBaking is an essential life skill.ā
I was too embarrassed to admit Iād been trying to impress him. It was so stupid and backward, the notion that a woman had to be good in the kitchen. Hello, wasnāt that what food delivery was for? But I liked Xavier so much, and baking had seemed like a nice, domestic activity to add some life into the apartment.
I tried not to look at the side table where The Fish used to reside. Iād tossed the aquarium days ago, but I still felt its absence. āYou know what else is an essential life skill? Living,ā Xavier teased. āIām concerned any future baking attempts will result in your kitchen burning down.ā
āVery funny.ā I tossed a balled-up napkin at him. āNext time, you try to bake.ā
āIām good. I know where my talents lie, and itās not in the kitchen.ā His arm rested on the back of the couch, his fingertips grazing my shoulder. āBut you donāt need to cook for me, Luna. Iām happy ordering in.ā
āBecause restaurants do it better?ā
āWell, yeah.ā He laughed when I knocked my knee against his in reproach, but a smile broke through my disgruntlement.
If I put enough time and effort in, I was positive Iād kick bakingās ass. There was no way a little sugar and flour could beat me, but I didnāt like baking, and I didnāt have to be good at everything (even though I could be if I wanted).
āIn better news, Perryās social media accounts got banned,ā I said as Nate Reynolds engaged in a shoot-out with a group of mercenaries onscreen. Xavier always watched rom-coms with me, so I suffered through the action thriller for him. It wasnāt as bad as Iād expected. It was actually pretty good, and Nate was delicious eye candy.
Xavierās eyebrows shot up again, this time in surprise. āWhen did that happen? They were working last night.ā