Page 24 of Pervade London
“Not equal in trauma, though.”
“How do you mean?”
“The most powerful are the most traumatized, usually.” He studied me. “It’s that sense of drive that escalates them. Read any biography and you’ll see evidence of deep-seated issues. Think of the last few presidents. All of them deeply affected by painful childhoods.”
From what I could remember about them, he was probably right. “Have you been traumatized, Xander?”
“I’m well adjusted.” He raised his hand before I could speak. “Even though you found me sleeping in the Underground.”
My head eased back when his finger traced my nose. “I took it out.”
“I can see that.” He looked concerned. “Not because of me, I hope.”
“I just fancied a change,” I lied.
“For God’s sake, don’t change, Em.” He blinked at me in surprise. “I need you to stay exactly as you are.”
“I will.”
He looked around his home. “They let me move in right away. And then I walked into Heal’s and told them I needed same day delivery.”
I loved that furniture store. I had strolled around it once hoping to have this kind of stuff in my home one day—a pipedream.
Xander took my hand. “I keep wracking my brain trying to think of how to thank you for being so kind to me at Piccadilly. You let me sleep at your place and you paid for my meal. You were there for me and you didn’t even know me.”
“You gave me a Stradivarius,” I replied flatly.
“That was nothing.”
“I’ve never been given a gift like this.” I glanced over at the violin on the table, still stunned it was mine.
“You’re a good person, Em. But I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.”
Guilt washed over his expression.
“What’s wrong?”
“Once you see beyond the curtain there’s no going back.”
“How do you mean?”
“Seeing how things really are in the world.”
“I know a lot of bad things happen,” I replied, wishing I knew what he was really trying to tell me.
He let go of my hand, staring down at me. “The world needs more people like you.”
A frisson of excitement rushed over me. I was here, with him, and the thought he was back in my life made me giddy with happiness.
“Want a drink?”
“Yes, please.”
I followed him into the spacious kitchen area. Xander removed what looked like an old bottle of red wine off a rack. The glass had scratchy white writing on the side. With a pop, he uncorked the Château Lafite.
I stepped closer. “Is that date right?”
