💔King of Sloth: A Forced Proximity Romance #4🤵‍♂️💼

“Did you read the letter?” I asked softly.

His Adam’s apple slid up and down his throat. “Yes.”

I waited, not wanting to push him on such a sensitive topic. I was curious about the letter, but I was more concerned about Xavier. Dealing with his father’s death and a long-lost letter from his mother in such a short period of time must’ve taken a huge toll, especially since he didn’t have anyone to talk to about it. I was the closest thing he’d had to a confidant in that house.

The tightness in my chest compounded.

“It’s funny,” Xavier finally continued. “When I read that letter, I could hear her voice. It was like she was right there, watching over me. She said she couldn’t wait for me to discover my favorite places in the world and that, if I were ever at a loss as to where to go, I should choose a place by the beach. I went to Thailand long before I knew the letter existed, but coincidentally, the beach was one of the reasons I chose to go there. It was far away from my father, surrounded by water, and it reminded me of my mother.” A faint smile. “It was a triple win. I just wish…” The smile faded beneath a shadow of melancholy. “I wish I would’ve found that letter sooner. I might’ve lived my life a little differently. Done things I’d be more proud of.”

“You’re not a bad person, Xavier,” I said, my voice gentle. “You didn’t do anything egregious that you should be ashamed of. And you may not have read her letter until recently, but I think a part of her was always there with you, guiding you. Besides…” My mind slipped to five years ago, when I’d walked away from the only family I’d ever known at the time. “It’s never too late for change. If you’re unhappy with the road you’re traveling, you can choose a new one at any time.”

Xavier stared at me, his eyes a hurricane of emotions I couldn’t decipher.

“I wish she could’ve met you,” he said, so quiet that I felt more than I heard his words. “She would’ve loved you.”

The tightness behind my ribs morphed into a raw, pervasive ache. It spread everywhere—my throat, my nose, behind my eyes and in the deepest grooves of my heart.

I didn’t cry, but this was the closest I’d come to doing so in a long, long time.

“She left this with the letter.” Xavier reached into his pocket and retrieved an antique gold pocket watch. He set it on the table and ran a pensive thumb over the case. “It’s a family heirloom. I’m not a watch person, but I’ve been carrying it around because…I don’t know. It felt right.”

“It’s gorgeous.” I picked the watch up gingerly and opened it, admiring the sapphire accents and exquisite craftsmanship. Whoever made it obviously did so with love; every element was hand tooled to perfection, including the faded but legible engraving: The greatest gift we have is time. Use it wisely.

I studied it, careful not to rub against the time-worn letters. “The quote is a good reminder, isn’t it?” The corners of Xavier’s mouth flicked up without humor. “I wasted years doing nothing with my life. I was so resentful of my father and so scared of fucking up that I didn’t even try. It made sense to me at the time but…” His voice caught. Stalled. Then the conversation turned in a direction I didn’t expect. “Do you know why my mom died?”

I closed the pocket watch and returned it to the table, my heart pounding. “It was a house fire. She didn’t make it out in time.”

“No, that’s how she died, not why.” The hurricane in his eyes brewed into something darker, stronger, beyond the confines of categories. “She died because of me.”

Nothing could’ve prepared me for the punch of his words. Air evacuated from my lungs, and a bruise blossomed where the impact hit, unexpected and agonizing. “Xavier…”

“Don’t,” he said harshly. “Don’t try to say it’s not my fault until you hear the whole story.”

I lapsed into silence, my eyes burning with unshed emotion. “I was ten. My father was away for business, and my mom was volunteering at an event. She loved art, so she donated a lot of money and time to local galleries.” Xavier swallowed. “My father’s birthday was the day after his scheduled return. She wanted to surprise him with a party, and she put me in charge of the decorations. It was my first time being in charge of something so important. I wanted to make them both proud, so I went all out. Balloons. Piñatas.” His knuckles whitened. “Candles.”

An invisible anchor dragged my heart through my stomach. No. “I did a test run to see how everything would look,” Xavier said. “But I thought I heard a noise in another room, and I got distracted. I accidentally knocked one of the candles over.” His eyes were bleak. “I tried to put it out, but there was wood and cardboard everywhere. The fire spread too quickly, and I got trapped. Luckily, we didn’t have a lot of staff back then, just a housekeeper. She was outside checking the mail, and when she saw the flames, she called the fire department. But my mom came home right then, and when she found out I was inside, she didn’t wait for the firefighters. She ran in and pulled me out. We almost made it to the front door before a beam fell and trapped us again. I don’t remember much of what happened after that. I passed out from too much smoke inhalation. When I woke up, I was outside with the medics. I survived. She didn’t.”

I didn’t think; I just reached out and closed my hand around his, wishing I could do something, anything, except listen helplessly.

“My father rushed home when he heard the news. I don’t think he truly believed my mother, his wife, was gone until he saw her body. And when he did…I’d never heard anyone cry like that. Sometimes, I can still hear it. It was almost inhuman.” Xavier brushed his fingers over the pocket watch, his expression taut. “He loved my mother more than anyone else in the world. They’d met in college, the aspiring businessman and the heiress who fell in love with his charm, his ambition, his loyalty. She was the reason why he worked so hard to build the Castillo Group, and when she died, a part of him died with her.”

Xavier lifted his head again, his gaze clouded with decades-old anguish. “He blamed me. After her funeral, he told me he wished I were the one who’d died instead of her. He was drunk at the time. Really drunk. But I’ve never forgotten those words. The truth always comes out when our inhibitions come down.”

I couldn’t breathe through the knots in my chest.

I had a shitty family, but I couldn’t imagine a parent saying that to their child. Xavier had been ten. He’d been just a kid.

“The thing is, I didn’t blame him,” he said. “Not at first. It was my fault. If I hadn’t been stupid enough to light that one damn candle, there wouldn’t have been a fire, and my mother would still be alive. But the older I got, the more I…” Xavier faltered. “I don’t know. I got angry too. Anger was easier to swallow than guilt, and my father was right there, taking his rage out on me. Physically, mentally, emotionally. He still wanted me to take over the company because he had no other choice. I was his only heir. But outside of that obligation, he hated me, and I hated him back.” He tapped a tattoo on his bicep. It featured the family crest for the Castillos’ biggest rival and had set social media ablaze when he first got it. “One year, I came home with this, and I left with scars.”

My stomach roiled at his matter-of-fact tone.

“My father was the only parent I had left,” Xavier said. “It should’ve brought us closer, but it drove us apart. Every time we were together, we were reminded of who was missing, and it hurt too much. So we lashed out in our different ways, and by the time I graduated college, I was done. I didn’t want anything to do with him or the company—except when it came to money. It doesn’t reflect well on me, but it’s the truth.”

Heavy silence descended, punctuated by the soft burble of water and faint music from inside the hotel.

Xavier stared at where my hand rested over his, a thousand emotions passing over his face before he shook his head.

“I’m sorry.” He let out a rueful laugh. “This was supposed to be a beautiful dinner, and I dragged you into the most morbid conversation possible.” He tried to pull his hand away, but I stopped him with a firmer grip.

He’d been there for me at the hospital, in Spain after my father’s email, and in a dozen other situations and ways he didn’t know mattered as much as they did.

It was my turn to be there for him.

“This is a beautiful dinner. Coconut puffs are the way to my heart,” I said, earning myself a shadow of a smile. “But before I say what I’m about to say, I want you to know two things. One, I’m terrible at comforting people. I have no talent or desire to do so, and tears make me uncomfortable. Two, I hate platitudes. They’re fake and stupid. So I want you to listen carefully when I say this: It wasn’t your fault. You were a kid, and it was an accident.” I squeezed his hand, wishing I could imprint my sincerity into his skin because I meant every word. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Xavier’s eyes gleamed bright and turbulent. Playboy, heir, hedonist, flirt—those masks were gone, leaving only the man in their place. Raw in his vulnerability, flawed in many ways, and marred by cracks and bruises beneath a deceptively polished façade.

I looked at him, and I’d never seen anyone more beautiful.

His hand curled around mine and squeezed. Just once. Just enough to jump start a piece of my heart I’d never known existed. Then the cracks sealed, the bruises faded, and he stood, withdrawing his hand from mine to pull his shirt over his head.

I was so thrown by the sudden shift in atmosphere that I didn’t find my voice until he was halfway to the pool. “What are you doing?”

“Skinny-dipping.” His pants joined his shirt on the ground.

“You can’t skinny-dip here,” I hissed, glancing around. “There are security cameras, and someone could come out any second.”

“No one will come out unless we call them. Even if they do, they can’t see anything if we’re in the pool.” Xavier shed his boxers, his smile containing equal parts challenge and amusement. “Come on, Luna. Don’t make me do this alone.”