“Aren’t there women in your circles who are more acceptable candidates?”
“If I wanted a forever with a socialite and a miserable existence, I would have married the woman my father chose for me.”
A small part of me craved he would say in words what he shows me with his devouring gaze, but I guess I can’t have it all.
“Cora, stop thinking about other women finally. I’m fucking here. I came to you with my problem. You’re my solution.”
I might fall before we finish these negotiations. What did he put in my tea? I take another sip. “There is one more thing that would be a deal-breaker.”
“Hit me,” he says, impatient.
“I don’t want you to ride the motorcycle.”
Oh, how many times had I said this sentence before? Too many to count, and I never won the argument. Until the bitter ending.
“Okay.”
“I’m serious, Xander,” I urge.
“Okay. I sold it already,” he says, tapping his fingers on the armrest.
“You sold your bike?” I put the plate down, leaning forward as if I can understand better when I’m closer. “You sold your bike,” I parrot. “Why?”
“I anticipated this demand.” His voice is laced with annoyance, but it pulls at the corner of my mouth.
He sold the bike because the last time I saw one, I ran. I didn’t even get a chance to explain. And yet here he is, pre-emptively complying with my demand.
“Xander, I need to explain.”
“You don’t have to—”
“I should. I mean, you sold the bike. I can at least explain why I’m so averse…”
His jaw ticks like he really doesn’t want to talk about this, even though he doesn’t know what this is.
He trusted me with his story, and I owe him mine. Especially if we’re to co-exist like this.
“Ten years ago I was engaged, and Ethan, my fiancé, killed himself on a bike. It was a senseless accident when he went for a joyride, speeding recklessly. Luckily, he didn’t kill anyone else,” I explain.
For the first time, I recount the sordid story with an unexpected detachment.
Xander studies me for a moment before he roundsthe table and squats in front of me. “I won’t ride a bike, Coraline.”
The words hit me in my stomach. The raw commitment behind them, the intensity of his promise, dislodges the shard of Ethan’s betrayal from my heart. Like ten years later, a man shows up in my life and softens the feeling that I wasn’t enough.
“Thank you.”
We stare at each other for a moment, the delicious tension from the kiss earlier seeping through slowly.
And I realize one important thing: I never had a chance.
Escaping Xander Stone was never on the table.
Surviving him… I can only hope that chance is still mine.
Chapter 18
Xander
