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Xavier stilled in the act of gathering papers. ‘Why were you speaking with Maria Gonzalez?’
She couldn’t lie. ‘I—I asked her if she would help me trace your birth father,’ she confessed.
An awful stillness—the kind that said he was utterly furious—pervaded his whole body.
A terrible quietness came to his voice. ‘Why, Jordan? When I specifically stated I wasn’t interested?’
She swallowed. ‘Because I thought it would help you.’
‘Do I strike you as a man who needs your help?’
Something in his tone, in the way he said your help, raked painfully over her flesh.
She notched up her chin. ‘No. You strike me as a man who’s too proud to ask for anyone’s help. Too proud to admit that you might not have everything perfectly under control.’
His jaw hardened. ‘Gracias. That was a most insightful assessment. Anything else you’d like to add, since you’re clearly quite the expert on me?’
She blinked back the hot sting of tears. ‘Yes,’ she said—because why not go for broke? Her heart was already bleeding.
She pulled the edges of her robe together and stood up for added courage.
‘I think you’re a strong, principled, incredible man, Xavier de la Vega, but I also think you’re afraid. I think you’ve pushed yourself towards perfection your whole life to prove you’re worthy, but deep down you fear you’re not. I think love scares you, but only because you’re afraid to be loved—because you think it means constantly living up to someone’s expectations. Constantly proving yourself. But guess what?’ She took a breath. ‘You’re the only one who puts impossible expectations on yourself. The people who love you accept you as you are.’ She flicked away a tear before it fell. ‘You might be able to control everything else in your life, but you can’t control who loves you. And I’m sorry to say I do.’
Before he cut her down with another pithy response, she strode from the room.
* * *
Xav drove to work in the Aston Martin, barely keeping within the speed limit.
His gut churned and his blood pumped so hard he feared for his arteries.
This morning, right on cue, Hector had called an impromptu board meeting.
The bastard.
Xav wanted to wring his neck—and Diego’s. Not for a second did he doubt their culpability.
He stalked into the office, barking out orders and summonses. Lucia was flustered. Whether from stress or because she now knew what her boss’s butt looked like naked, he didn’t care to guess.
He slammed his door shut. He had to focus. Prepare. But damn if he could get Jordan’s impassioned speech out of his head. He still felt the impact of every word. It was as if she’d taken a scalpel to his chest, slicing away layers of skin and muscle and bone until only his heart remained, unprotected and defenceless.
He wanted to punish her for defying his wishes, shake her for saying things no one else dared say to him and demand she take back her declaration of love.
He also wanted to gouge out the eyes of every man on the planet who’d ogled the photos of her lush breasts in the last twelve hours.
Those breasts belonged to him.
Every damn part of her belonged to him.
He breathed deeply. He also wished he could un-see those words he’d buried in a recess of his brain, because he had no emotional capacity to deal with them right now: Tomás Garcia—his birth father—had been shot and killed thirty-three years ago while holding up a convenience store.
Within the next half-hour his brother and his parents arrived. Xav faced them with a throat thickened by a mix of humiliation, gratitude and exasperation. ‘I told you, you didn’t need to come.’
‘And miss the fireworks?’ Ramon, sharp in a three-piece suit, slapped him on the shoulder. ‘Hermano, I’ve waited many years to see you in the hot seat for once, instead of me.’
Xav turned to his parents, searched their faces for disappointment or disapproval and found neither.
His father, also smart in a bespoke suit, stood between his sons and gripped their shoulders, the gleam in his eye almost anticipatory. ‘It’s been too long since I went a few rounds with Hector. That old scoundrel doesn’t know what he’s in for.’
