Jordyn has been texting with me constantly. She’s even stopped by the bar most nights while traveling between casinos. She’s so sweet, and from what she’s told me about how she and Cash first met, Xander watching me sleep at night is nothing in comparison.
I’ve realized that Xander cares more about his family than they realize. He cares about their empire. Their employees. Their future as a family. Unfortunately, he isn’t very good at showingit because I’m pretty sure he’s still struggling with thoughts of what Nicola did to him. And missing his dad, of course.
He still doesn’t sleep much. Some nights, I think he gets out of bed and sits on the chair to watch me sleep. He doesn’t drink here, since I don’t have any alcohol, but when we’re working, he does.
Last night, he left the building for a few hours. I’m not sure where he went, but he came back smelling even more like liquor than usual, and his mood was off. He was quiet for the rest of the evening. Even though I wanted to ask what was wrong, the kid in me who knew better than to question a drunk stopped me, so I went to sleep instead.
He treats me like a queen even when he’s been drinking. But he’s not himself, and it makes me uneasy. On edge. I learned at a young age to never let myself totally relax around someone under the influence.
I’m so deeply in love with Xander.
And I think he feels the same way about me.
But he’s still fighting the demons that Nicola left him with. And that scares me.
I want to talk to someone. One of his brothers. Or Jordyn. But I’m not part of their family. It feels like I would be betraying Xander. I don’t want him to feel like I’m going behind his back. But it’s obvious that he uses alcohol to mask his pain, and that has been lingering in the back of my mind for some time.
“We need to get dressed and go on a drive before we go to work.” He strokes my head, and I close my eyes, savoring his warm touch.
By the time we’re dressed and in his green Porsche with the top down, my mood has dipped considerably. I spend the drive with my sunglasses on while the wind whips around us. The entire time, he holds my hand. And as I stare down at the back of his, tracing the intricate tattoos, my thoughts swirl violently.
I don’t know what to do. Can I ask him to stop drinking? Is that even my place to do so? Especially after he’s already done so much for me? My mom has already been moved to one of the best facilities in the city, all handled by Xander. I haven’t heard from Mike, and he said I never will again. I didn’t even ask if the guy is dead because I already know the answer. Xander has literally killed people for me. How could I possibly ask anything else of him?
He works all the time, running a multi-billion-dollar family empire, and for some reason, still unbeknownst to me, he wantsme. What right do I have to have a problem with whether he drinks or not?
When he pulls up to a set of iron gates, he enters a code into a box and then waits for them to open. I stare up at the tall palm trees that line the driveway. As he pulls the car forward, the trees reveal a huge courtyard area with a fountain in the center.
The house before us is stunning. Archways leading out to what looks like a garden on one side. Beautiful tendrils of ivy are growing over the front of the house, giving it a fairytale vibe that every girl dreams about, with a balcony overlooking the courtyard. The tan stucco and dark wrought-iron designs are a stunning contrast to the mature trees and plants surrounding the home.
I’m pretty sure I look like a deer in the headlights as I take it all in, but holy crap. I’m sure it’s considered a mansion, but it’s different. It’s an actualhome. Even from the outside, I can tell people have raised families here.
“Whose house is this?” I ask.
Maybe it’s one of his brothers, though that would surprise me because I can’t picture Kian or Beckett living here.
“Ours,” he answers, shutting off the car.
My head whips around in his direction. “What?”
I couldn’t have possibly heard that correctly.
“If you don’t love it, we can buy a different house or remodel this one. Whatever you want, we will do.”
I blink several times as I stare out at the stunning home.
If I don’t love it?What’s not to freaking love? If the inside is half as beautiful as the outside, I might cry.
He holds out his hand. I automatically reach for it, following him as he leads us up to the front door and presses his finger to an electronic lock. Then he pulls me into the empty home.
“Look around,” he says, kissing my temple and rubbing my ass at the same time. “Kitchen, living rooms are that way, and bedrooms are down this hall.”
I don’t say anything as I turn toward the main living areas. Even without any furniture, every part of the house is perfect. Glass French doors line one entire side of the living room, kitchen, and hallway. They lead out to a backyard that’s a tropical paradise of its own, with a pool slide and enormous unicorn floats that I would love to lounge on for hours at a time. Maybe I could even get him to join me.
As I turn the corner into the kitchen, I pause and take it in. The counter space. It’s beautiful. Right in the center of the room is a massive island with spots for barstools on one side. Where I could work on recipes and maybe even finally write my recipe book one day.
The kitchen faces out toward an enormous living room with more French doors leading out to various terraces and manicured grassy areas, planted with more tropical plants.
It’s the perfect home. It’s absolutely too much, but if I were to dream up somewhere to get married and raise a family, this would be it.
