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I followed his gaze to the wall. Sure enough, the button was right there, mounted on a piece of wood. How the hell had I missed that?
Embarrassment scorched my cheeks.
I blamed the sauna. That much heat in a confined space couldn’t be healthy.
I managed to retain a shred of dignity as I pressed the button, mostly by ignoring Xavier’s shit-eating grin.
The staff came quickly after that, averting our potential demise. However, even though we weren’t in danger anymore, the possibility of dying next to Xavier—no matter how fleeting—did not bode well for the rest of the trip.
“I think it’s a great start to the week,” he said as we walked to our couples massage. The spa concierge had been so apologetic about the sauna lock-in that she’d added an extra half hour to our treatment. “We survived death. It can only go uphill from here.”
I pushed him into a nearby bush.
It was pure pettiness on my part, but it felt good. If it weren’t for him, I would be sitting happily in my office in New York, putting out fires instead of “relaxing.”
To my disgruntlement, Xavier didn’t fall; he merely stumbled into the hedge, and his laugh followed us into our massage room, where I made a point not to look at him as we disrobed. I’d already seen him half naked in the sauna, but it was hard to ignore the glimpses of tanned skin and sculpted muscle out of the corner of my eye.
The fact he was built like a Greek god when he did nothing except lounge around and party proved there was no justice in the universe.
We settled on our respective tables in silence. I couldn’t see him, but I couldfeelhim two feet away. His presence filled the room, unearthing memories from our short-lived but unnerving sauna adventure.
There’d been a moment, just one, when I looked at Xavier and my heart skipped a beat.
Who did you really go see?
There’d also been a moment, just one, when I almost answered truthfully. Maybe it was the lack of judgment in his face…or maybe the heat had melted my brain. That was far more likely.
My lids drifted closed as our massage therapists reentered the room and worked out our knots, but I couldn’t shut off my brain. How many emails had piled up in my inbox in the past hour?
I’d never gone this long without checking my phone. What if my office was on fire? That was the thing about working in a skyscraper. You were subject to the idiocy of other tenants, many of whom didn’t understand the basic tenets of fire safety.
Speaking of idiocy, what if Asher Donovan crashed another car? Did Jillian remember to send Ayana our terms of engagement? Was Isabella feeding The Fish properly?
Isabella wasn’t an idiot, but I had specific instructions for taking care of my pet goldfish, and she tended to get lost in her own world when she was in the middle of writing a book.
Anxiety spurred my heart rate into an agitated gallop. “You’re very stressed,” my therapist said softly. Her hands worked magic on my back and shoulders, but the poor woman would need a full week to loosen all my knots.
“I’m from New York,” I said as an explanation. Everyone was stressed. The only people who weren’t were the lazy—
“That’s not an excuse.” Xavier’s interjection destroyed my cocoon of attempted bliss. “I’m from New York, and I don’t walk around with headaches every day.”
I lifted my head to glare at him, but my therapist’s warningtskforced me back down. “First of all, you’re not from New York. You’re from Bogotá. Second of all, you know nothing about my health. Third of all—”
“Turn over, please,” my therapist said.
I obeyed with more force than necessary. “Third of all, you’re not stressed because you don’t do anything. You just sit there, spend your family’s money, and look pretty.”
It was harsh, but a trust fund kid lecturing me was my last straw. Yes, I’d also grown up with money and all the privileges that came with it, but I gave that up when I left my family. Everything I had now, I’d earned.
Xavier never had to work for a single thing in his life. He had no right criticizing my choices, stress levels, or anything about me.
“So,” he said, “you think I’m pretty.”
“You—”
“Breathe.” My massage therapist pressed down on my shoulders. “That’s it. Release the tension from your shoulders…”
Her gentle tone slowly smoothed the edges of my irritation. I inhaled a deep breath and swallowed an acerbic reply.
