I look at the now-empty corridor. Xavier is gone. Then I remember the way Robbie talked to him, the enforced touching, and the way Xavier looked on that runway—clinging to controland so alone. I appear to have appointed myself as his guard dog, regardless of the fact that he never asked me to fill that position.
“A club sounds wonderful. Thank you.”
four
. . .
Xavier
The club is heaving. Strobe lights flash, and bodies writhe. A sexy version of “Love Tonight” by Shouse is playing, and I can feel the beat in my whole body as I lean against the glass wall of the private room that Durands booked for us. Everyone from the shoot is here, knocking back drinks like they’re going out of fashion because Dean started a tab, courtesy of Jonas. I doubt Jonas would approve of the two models doing lines on the table, but he’s not here, so what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
I’ve had a few beers and some shots, but I can’t seem to get drunk, and I need it tonight. I need some form of oblivion to forget what an idiot I am.
The dance floor is packed with people. I should be down there dancing, flirting, and later fucking in a bathroom. Instead, I’m stuck here trying not to look at Reuben and feeling a mixture of anger and concern run through my body. I’m concerned because he was bad today. Oh, he’d been as sexily in charge as ever. No one commands a photoshoot like him. His attention was absolute, his movements graceful, and his long body was clad in very sexy cargo trousers. It had made me smile a little because four men at the shoot were wearing similar pants, butI’d be prepared to bet that none of theirs had been worn in combat zones around Syria. His levels of not giving a shit have always been legendary.
Half a dozen times, he’d been so close I could have leant in and pressed against him. I hate the fact that I’d wanted to more than anything. It’s been such a long time since I saw him that the urge was overpowering. But after a few minutes, I’d seen the strain in his eyes, the way his shoulders were tight. And when that wanker Francois had forced him into the lift, I’d snapped. And that’s why I’m angry. Oh, not with Francois. Twats do as twats always will. No, I’m angry with myself because Reuben’s mental health shouldn’t be my concern. He fucked me off years ago, and I’ve had my revenge a dozen times or more.
But I just couldn’t stand there and watch him try to keep the panic down, all while Francois gloated like it made him better than Reuben. I huff. As if Reuben isn’t a thousand times more of a man than him.
And the truth hidden under that rage is that Reuben scares me a little when he’s like this. I need him hale and hearty as an adversary I can fuck over. Not so sad that I’d wanted to hug him. Not so sad that I’d felt that horrible old yearning to make him happy. And another worry is that the desire to hurt him which has been my constant companion for so long has seemingly abandoned me lately. I think it’s the year apart. How can you maintain a great level of appropriate rage when your opponent waved his white flag and fucked off without staying long enough to know I’d even seen it?
Against my will, my gaze tracks across the room to where he’s standing talking to Dean and Jennet. He’s changed and is now wearing black jeans that cling to his long legs, a simple grey T-shirt, and battered old motorcycle boots. The T-shirt clings to his brawny shoulders and lean torso. His hair is loose, falling in waves to his shoulders. It’s so different from when I firstmet him. Then it had been short, showing off his fantastic bone structure and those pretty grey eyes. I like it long. It makes him look rumpled and sexy.
I wonder why the idiot is even here. Nightclubs aren’t good for anyone with PTSD, and he bloody well knows it. I scan his face reluctantly, looking for any bad signs, but his eyes are bright and intent, and even as I watch, he says something to Jennet, his expression wicked, and she laughs out loud. She looks happy again and not like when Robbie was so nasty to her. I’d been on the verge of snapping at him, but Reuben had stepped in, and I’m trying to ignore how hot it was.
As if I’ve summoned him, Robbie appears next to me. He hands me a beer, and I smile my thanks, and if the smile is too thin, Robbie won’t notice. His gaze moves past me to focus on his reflection in the mirror behind me, demonstrating his absolute obsession with himself.
My eyes flick to Reuben again, just a second to check where he is. When I turn my attention back to my beer, I find Robbie watching me, his eyes gleeful and knowing.
“So,” he says, leaning into me and talking into my ear. “You and the hot daddy Reuben, eh?”
I take a sip of my drink. “What are you on about?”
He nudges me. “You know exactly what I mean. I never knew you’d fucked him.”
“And you don’t know now either.”
“Oh, come off it. It’s as obvious as the fact that Jennet needs to invest in some Ozempic.”
I look at him in disgust. “Don’t be such a cunt.”
He talks over me. “I can’t say I blame you. I’d shag him too. I mean, look at him.”
I foolishly follow Robbie’s gaze to Reuben and jolt when I find Reuben’s watching us. His eyes are dark with disapproval.Then Jennet says something, and he turns back to her. I sag, feeling like the eye of Sauron just passed over me.
“I mean it,” Robbie says.
“What do you mean?” I ask, irritated. “It’s never very clear.”
“I might make a move,” he says consideringly.
“A move on who?”
“Reuben, of course. I’ve always fancied him. God, I bet he fucks like an animal. Look at those shoulders and that body.” He shudders. “Sohot. And the way he talks is so bossy.”
“No.” My protest is way too loud and too sharp.
His grin turns suddenly malicious and I know I’ve just made a crucial error and fallen into his trap. Now he’s definitely going to make a move.
