Page 188 of Black Reign

The private club where he spends forty-seven minutes with two men from Blackwell’s European operations.

I don't follow closely.

I don't need to.

That is amateur behavior.

I move around him instead.

Different hair.

Different clothes.

Different posture.

Sometimes I watch from across the street.

Sometimes from a café.

Once from the upper level of a bookstore where I can see the entrance to his hotel through a rain-streaked window.

I tell myself this is reconnaissance.

It isn't.

Not entirely.

I want to see him.

That is becoming the problem.

Ghost has existed in my life for years without taking up physical space.

He lived in a screen.

In words.

In the quiet hours after midnight when Papa was gone and sleeping felt impossible.

Xavier occupies space.

A lot of it.

He walks into rooms and people shift without realizing they are moving for him. Men twice his age watch his reaction before offering their own. Women look.

He rarely notices.

That part surprises me.

The rumors about him make more sense now.

He isn't uninterested in women.

He simply isn't interested in most people.

I understand that better than I should.

Yesterday, I watched him leave the hotel wearing a dark suit and no overcoat despite the cold. A woman nearly walked into a lamppost looking at him.