Page 61 of Xavier

He kneels down and lifts my foot, throwing my stiletto off, flinging it onto the street before sliding a Nemo slipper onto my foot.

"Xavier! Those are Jimmy Choos!"

"Choos Shmoos! These are TARGET! Way more comfy, right?" He wriggles his eyebrows at me as he slips my other foot into the second slipper. My toes instantly curl into the plush insides of the slippers. It feels heavenly after a day of being in those pointed torture devices.

"Don't worry, I'll get you another pair,” he says as he gets to his feet, taking my hand and leading me into the limo.

"I want Dory next time!" I shout.

"I meant the Jimmy Choos."

I giggle and shrug. "I know, but I'd rather have the slippers."

He looks at me, his pupils open, warm and friendly. He holds my gaze for a moment, before asking, "Would you really?"

I shrug again, "Well, yeah. Choos don't go with flannel pajamas, Xave." I give him a wink and climb into the limo. He follows, closing the door behind him. The limo pulls away from the curb and into traffic.

I take a moment to look around me and burst out laughing again. How is this happening right now? I push the thought away. Fuck it. Jump now. Deal Later.

"I can honestly say I've never done this."

"Ridden a limo? I doubt that."

"Not in pajamas and slippers!"

"Only way to do it!" He stretches his body out, his long legs spreading out in front of us, his hands locked behind his head. "You hungry?"

My stomach growls in response.

"I guess so," he laughs and reaches across me over to the drinks bar and hands me a glass of champagne. "Drink this, it'll tide you over until we eat."

"This is going to go straight to my head," I say pointedly, then take a long sip anyway. "Where are we going?"

"Out."

I give him a look, and then finish the champagne.

"Where out?"

"Out out,” he winks, knowing how much I hate not knowing.

"Xavier."

"Malynda."

I know better than to argue. I haven't forgotten how stubborn he used to be, how impossible it was to get him to talk about anything he didn't want to. Hell, he didn't say a word that first week I was trying to get to know him. Something tells me, while some things are different, how much more confident he seems now, flirty, in command, um, muscly, other things have stayed just the same.

I lean back into the leather seat, enjoying how comfortable I feel. Usually when I'm in a limo I'm zipped up tight into a dress, my hair pinned within an inch of its life, my feet pinched and blistered.

My eyes flutter closed and there’s the unmistakable sound of New York City traffic whizzing past my window while I’m cocooned in here. With Xavier.

A sigh escapes my lips before I can stop it, and I open my eyes to see him staring at me.

He doesn't bother to look away so I'm the one to who breaks our gaze.

Careful, Malynda, I tell myself, and am a little surprised at my use of my old name. From the moment I changed it, I'd been careful to never think of it again, even just in my own head. Until now.

The rest of the drive is in silence. Quiet but not awkward. The stress of the day slowly seeps from my bones, and I feel my muscles loosen and relax. When the limo finally stops I peer out the window and am surprised where we’ve arrived.