I lick my lips, and Xander’s gaze drops. He reaches to trace his thumb where my tongue was. It’s slow and seductive. “Stop overthinking it.”
He is right.
The thought feels so liberating, a smile stretches across my face. Before I get to nod and let him deliver on that delicious threat, we both jerk as my phone starts dancing on the table beside us.
Fuck.
I look at the screen, and dread replaces all the lusty fire in my veins. Tessa, my sister, never calls.
Groaning inwardly, I straighten my spine and answer.
“Finally. Where are you? Dad was robbed.”
Chapter 5
Cora
Tessa’s eyes practically hit her hairline when Xander helps me out of his expensive sports car. If I weren’t so frazzled by the circumstances I would have insisted on taking a cab, or having my sister pick me up.
But I couldn’t have gotten here fast enough. The ice bucket that Tessa’s call dumped over us was a blessing in disguise, because what the hell was I thinking?
Xander Stone is the king of playboys, and I really don’t have room for that in my life. It reeks of heartbreak and self-loathing. The latter I secretly practice with the utmost dedication regularly, so I don’t need to add extra reasons there.
“Let me know if I can help in any way.” Xander awkwardly kisses my cheek, but I’m sure he can’t getaway from here fast enough. I don’t remind him that I don’t have his number. He doesn’t need my level of family drama.
Though he jumped into action the minute I’d received the call, and I’m grateful for that. The silence in the car on the way here was awkward as fuck. I was calming my hormones and my nerves at the same time.
He probably regretted the offer of a ride.
“Thank you… for everything.” I tuck a strand behind my ear and cut the awkward dance between us short, dashing across the street.
The engine revs, but I don’t look back. He’s gone, and that’s good.
“Who was that?” Tessa’s tone is laced with accusation, which shouldn’t surprise me because it’s her signature intonation.
“A friend.” I march toward the care facility entrance, but I know there is no way to avoid this conversation.
“Since when do you have friends with Lamborghinis?” she huffs, her heels clicking as she tries to keep up with me.
I stop. Does she really want to talk about this now? “Have you ever met any of my friends?” I deadpan.
This time, she huffs without the commentary. I resume my walking.
Tessa, who is usually a poster childfor inflated self-confidence, always gets weirdly self-conscious when we visit Dad. In fact, I don’t even think she ever visits by herself.
It might be the reason Dad rejoices every time we come. I’m not proud of that, but it makes me feel like my visits don’t matter to him. As I said, not proud of those feelings, but I can’t seem to curb them.
And while he is always thrilled to see her, Tessa behaves as if she’d secretly smoked weed on the porch before entering his room, all anxious and uncomfortable.
The tension grows with every step as we approach the building where Dad has lived since his stroke.
While my mind reels with all the possibilities, trying to solve the robbery before I understand what happened, Tessa blabbers inconsequentially about her life, mostly about an event she is putting together.
With her successful, handsome husband, a luxury mansion on Long Island, a villa in the country, and two perfect children—who I adore, so I can’t hold them against her—Tessa has never worked in her life.
She keeps herself occupied with a never-ending series of charitable activities. I mean, I guess volunteering counts as work.
I hold a grudge because when Dad couldn’t take care of his business, she never volunteered her time or money.
