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I sighed. “Xavi you were about to kill someone when I walked into that kitchen. And I know your chef pissed you off and everything, but it was a bit much, don’t you think? And then you dragged me outside, fuc—screwed me in the alley like some girl you picked up at a bar and proceeded to leave me there. Next to a dumpster. Like I was t-t-trash.”
By the time I was finished, my lip was trembling, and more than one fat tear had welled in my eyes. Viciously, I swiped at them. I didn’t want to be weak right now. But saying it out loud like that really drove it home. I’d felt a lot of things with Xavier in the past, but never like this. Never like I meant nothing to him.
He watched me for a long moment, seemingly waiting until I had gotten myself together. Then, all at once, he yanked me into his lap, cradling my shivering form against his big body while he stroked my hand and wrapped his other arm firmly about my waist.
“You,” he said, “arenottrash.Never, Ces. Do you hear me?”
I swallowed thickly, but I was reminded of one of the bits of pop psychology I’d learned in teacher training—that telling a kid whatnotto do only reinforced the negative actions more.
He said “not.” He said “never.” But all I heard was “trash.” And it was a difficult word to unhear, even if I was the one to say it first.
“God, I’m so sorry.” He gathered me into him, guiding my head to his shoulder while stroking my hair. “So fucking sorry. I didn’t—fuck, I didn’t really think. I was just so upset when you walked in, Ces. And then I saw you, and I felt like a bull seeing red, you know? Rage was everywhere, and you were the one thing that could solve it for me. And then after…” He shook his head. “Fuck, I was so ashamed. I couldn’t face you. What a fucking coward.”
“And this was all because of the chef?”
I frowned. I’d heard more than one story by this point of Xavier’s tempestuous cooking staff. He employed artists—it was one of the reasons for his success. But they gave him more than his share of trouble, too. Still, manhandling an employee seemed like the definition of unprofessional. It sounded dangerous.
“Le Fray was just the cream atop a very sticky pudding.”
Xavier loosened his hold around me, though I kept my cheek to his shoulder, enjoying the warmth of his body. I was finally starting to relax. I spent so much time holding my child that I often forgot the comfort of someone else holding me.
“My uncle,” he said in a voice so low I almost couldn’t hear him. “I got news earlier today. He had another stroke. They don’t think he has long.”
I sat up to look at him, and involuntarily, my hand rose to cover my mouth in shock. “Oh, God. Xavi, I’m so sorry.” Sorry, yes. But also, why didn’t he tell me?
He heaved another sigh that ballooned his broad chest, then shoved a hand into his disheveled black hair. The movement made the muscles in his forearm flex, causing its tattoos to dance in the low lighting.
“To make matters worse, the estate’s temporary steward quit today, too. So there’s no one to manage things, and it’ll all fall apart if I don’t step in.”
“Is it a lot to manage?” I asked. I imagined a country manor, perhaps with some animals, probably a garden, and a few staff members paid to guide tours or something like that.
Xavier offered a dry expression. “It’s nearly twelve hundred years of accumulated assets, Ces. Makes the Parker Group look like child’s play.”
I gulped. I didn’t know much about how the business of the gentry worked in the UK. They didn’t really cover that in Austen adaptations. This sounded like a lot more than some topiaries and barnyard animals. If Xavier, CEO of an international restaurant group, was intimidated, then it was more than I could possibly imagine.
Still, I sensed he was upset about more than just taking over his family’s affairs.
“He means a lot to you, doesn’t he?” I asked, reaching out to stroke Xavier’s hair. “Your uncle.”
With closed eyes, he leaned into my touch, and his sigh told me I was right. We hadn’t really talked a lot about the role Xavier’s uncle Henry had played in his life, but I gathered he’d always been around, particularly after Xavier’s mother died and he was finally welcomed into his father’s life. He said he wasn’t needed in Kendal, but when he thought I wasn’t listening, Xavier would call the estate a few times a week to check on the man.
It was clear Henry Parker was more than just a distant relative and someone to manage accounts.
“He was always nice to me,” he admitted. “Well, as nice as the Parkers get. Now I think he knew something was wrong with him. He started pestering me to come back to Kendal last year. Take my rightful place at the family’s head. Learn everything he does.” He nodded at a particularly ornate clock that had been mounted on the wall behind us. “Sent me that as a token a few months ago. Said I had to bring it back, ready to work. Just like me.”
I watched as a multitude of expressions crossed his beautiful face. Grief, yes. Maybe a bit of resentment. And a lot of guilty.
My heart twisted on his behalf. Family was complicated. I knew that better than most.
“But now…” I urged him on.
“Now I don’t really have a choice, do I?” he replied. “NowI have to go. Or else I’m the fuckup bastard they always thought I was, title or not.”
“But…you’re not a bastard,” I said. “You keep saying that, but you’re not.”
There was a loud snort. “Christ, Ces, you think because someone corrected a mistake that the first twenty years of my life don’t exist? You don’t forget two decades of being called the Parker bastard just because someone finds a piece of paper.” He groaned. “It was Henry who found it, you know. After my father’s accident—the one that kept him from having more children. Georgina, my stepmum, she left him for a bit, threatened divorce unless he passed the estate to Frederick—that’s my stepbrother, see. But then Henry discovered my parents’ marriage certificate and dissolution papers. He’s the reason why the people in this life were forced to accept me. He’s the reason I became a duke. The only one who ever believed I could.”
A few more pieces of the puzzle began to click together. The first time Xavier had told me the story of how he reunited with his father, it had sounded like Rupert Parker had had a sudden change of heart regarding his long-lost son. But now it was apparent that relationship was engineered more by his uncle Henry. A person who probably cared for Xavier more than he let on. And someone who, despite his attempts at distance, Xavier cared for too.
