Page 54 of The Billionaire's Masquerade Ball

His words were light, barely more than a whisper, yet they struck her deeply, rattling her insides. He flicked his gaze back down to her lips.

The argument had ended, but tension still cut between them, taut like the string of a violin. Cynder could hardly breathe from the pressure building in her chest.

She had been in a similar position before with Xander almost a week ago in the balcony. Just thinking about that almost-kiss had her desire surging for the one right in front of her.

But with a drag of heaviness, she realized that she didn’t want a kiss when he still didn’t know the truth. The moment broke, at least for her, and she placed a palm on Xander’s chest.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” he said.

Cynder pressed her lips together and only then did his body relax slightly as he again met her gaze.

“Those weren’t the real reasons,” Xander said. “You know about … my past.”

“I didn’t think you wanted anyone else to know. Olivia would have found out if she didn’t have something to distract her from digging.”

“How?”

“Last Friday, I was visiting my father. His … grave. I saw you there. I didn’t know who you were. Until the gala.”

His eyes darted from side to side, following what she assumed were the rapid motion of his thoughts and his memory. He had a wild look about him, unhinged. Like the smolder from his eyes had turned inward and was lighting a new flame inside his body.

Cynder ached for him. She had seen the way grief had attached itself to him that day in the cemetery. The power of it and the pain of it etching through his body. Knowing more about his past, she knew that it likely went deeper than she could know. Deep enough that he changed his name to hide from it. And now he was laid bare before her. She felt uncomfortable with the weight of what she knew and with watching him come to terms with the fact that she knew it.

She couldn’t stop the tears and had known that they would come. She wished that she could push them back, knowing somehow that he would hate feeling like she pitied him. But her feelings weren’t pity. She didn’t feel sorry for him, she felt a kinship and a protectiveness. Though it might be a one-way feeling he didn’t return, she felt like she shared in his grief.

Cynder waited. It took only moments for the wildness in him to steady. A different look fell over his face and she felt a prick of discomfort. She couldn’t read him anymore. His whole face was stony. He glanced at her, noticing the silent tears marking her cheeks.

“How much do you know?” he asked, finally, once again stepping closer into her personal space. He wouldn’t meet her eyes now and wasn’t looking at her lips either, his gaze focused seemingly on a spot behind her on the wall.

Cynder cleared her throat. “I found Alexander Smith. I just know the little that was public information.” When he nodded, but didn’t speak, she found herself rushing to explain more. “I was afraid that Olivia might find out too. She wouldn’t hesitate to publish it. She’s pretty furious with you. I’m sorry that I found out if you didn’t want me to. I only wanted to protect you and I’m not sorry for what I did to do it.”

Xander put one hand on the wall again, the other flat at his side. He began to lean in again, his breath fluttering against Cynder’s cheek. She felt a mix of relief and nerves. Was he that forgiving? Did he understand? Was he going to kiss her? She closed her eyes, waiting.

“Cynder?”

“Hmm?”

If he kissed her now, she was ready. The only secret left between them now was the masked woman, and he already implied that he didn’t care anymore. Kissing her now meant that he understood. That maybe he felt the same—

“You’re fired.”

There was a cool sweep of air and even as quickly as Cynder opened her eyes, Xander had gone, the office door standing open next to her. Wyatt stood stunned in the doorway.

“Did I just—were you guys—uh, sorry. It looked like …”

Cynder swallowed down the bitter taste suddenly filling her mouth. “I don’t know what it looked like, but that was Xander firing me.”

* * *

Xander was on the treadmill for the second time that day when Wyatt came into the gym. His speed was punishing and his muscles were screaming. Normally after around ten minutes, endorphins kicked in and made running more pleasurable, sending those happy hormones surging. But not even his body’s own natural chemicals were able to remove the heaviness that had settled low into his skull where a headache was forming.

“Just wanted to let you know that I’m headed out for the day,” Wyatt said. He looked nervous. “Do you need anything before I go?”

“Nope.”

“Is … everything okay?”

“Dandy.”

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