Page 5 of Xavier

I give him what I hope is my most withering look. The effect is minimal; there’s a miniscule twitch at the corner of his lips as he steps out of my office. I wait until he’s finished saying good morning to Patricia and leaves to make his morning rounds around the office before I call her.

“Patti!”

My assistant strolls through the door, shutting it behind her.

“How’d you know I wanted the door shut?” I ask.

Her look is similar to the one I gave Kaine before.

“I need help. With this,” I say, pointing to my face. She holds up a small pink bag she’s been hiding behind her back.

“I’m on it,” she says, pulling a chair up next to me, laying out on my desk an assortment of torture devices and rainbow-colored palettes.

“No one’s to hear about this, got it? Ever.” I warn her.

“Trust me. Now shush!” She grins at me as she descends on my face with something that looks like a spongy orange egg. “This isn’t going to hurt a bit.”

I wish I could believe her.

***

Fuck you, Kaine, I’m thinking to myself 8 hours later as my limo hurtles down 5th Ave. I’m looking forward to tonight the same way I look forward to the part in my annual physical when the doctor lubes up his finger, and something tells me by the end of the night, I’m going to feel just as violated. It’s the annual fundraiser for the ASH Foundation, and the aim tonight is to raise the money to build and run two new youth shelters that Kaine has planned.

Not that he needs the signed checks of New York’s elite. He could spring for it out of his own piggy bank. But everybody with a fat bank account and a pretty face wants to be seen at these events, and we’re happy to give them an opportunity to give. They give us a blank check and we give them more champagne than they know what to do with and the positive publicity. I pat my tuxedo pocket for the list Patti tucked into it before I left the office. A piece of paper with the names of the ten potential donors I’m meant to work on tonight.

The traffic slows and I know we’re almost there. Jade was right about choosing the Plaza as the venue for tonight’s fundraiser. Why? Because the donors feel comfortable here, it’s like home. It’s almost like they forget they’re in public, dropping their fake smiles and not caring to hide their roaming hands from their spouses. Both husbands and wives, that is. I have had my share of wandering diamond covered fingers slide between my legs.

I take a deep breath and step out of the car, buttoning my suit coat as I look around.

"Xavier Kent," I tell the hostess handing her my invitation and she leads me inside.

"Mrs. Ashley asked me to tell you to please find her once you arrived," she tells me. Her eyes lock on mine a little too long. I take the moment to give her my own once over. Jet black hair, not natural. Tall, slim... too slim. I inwardly shrug and give her a nod to acknowledge her message.

I spot Jade as soon I step into the ballroom. She's gorgeous in a gold fitted Gucci gown. Apparently post pregnancy agrees with her. She smiles and runs over to me, and I can't help feeling my heart swell - both for my affection for her, and how much joy she's brought to Kaine's life.

"Hey there, heartbreaker," she says, leaning in to give me a kiss right on the cheek. No air kisses for her.

"Looking good, Mrs. Ashley. Where are you hiding those track pants Kaine tells me you've been living in since the birth?"

She pokes her tongue out at me, her eyes still sparkling.

"Oh, they're under here, holding in my wobbly belly." She grins as she peers closer at my face. "Wow, good job Patti did. You can barely see it."

My own smile turns into a scowl and I have to bite the side of my cheek to fight the urge to touch my lip or my tender eye.

"Barely see what?" I say, eyes narrowing.

"The Mac foundation stick No.4," Jade says, enjoying it all a little too much.

"I'm leaving! Where's the bar?"

"No, no bar for you! Mingling for you," she says, her voice getting serious. "You got your post-it?"

I pull it out of my pocket and give it a little wave.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Me too. I’ve got the Gottliebs. Ugh. I'm going to have to hear about how their son is dating some 47th in line to the Danish throne,” she whispers as she leans in, dropping her voice.