Page 17 of The Devil's Waltz

Fifteen minutes later, I arrive at the address Xander sent me and have to circle the block a few times to snag a parking spot on the street. Approaching his building, I’m immediately impressed by the stunning architecture. It looks modern but classic in a way that is difficult to achieve. It has a black brick exterior with a revolving door at the front that I step through into an ornate lobby with white marble floors and gold light fixtures. Crisp white walls decorated with simplistic yet abstract art makes the space feel clean and open, and I admire it as I make my way to the doorman manning the front desk. My flats echo softly as I approach, and I tell the gentleman who I’m here to see.

He nods, his tone professional and polite when he says, “Mr. Kane is expecting you. Take the elevator on your left to the tenth floor. His suite is the last one on your right.”

“Thank you.” I smile at him, crossing the lobby to the bank of elevators close by. My stomach is a jumble of nerves as I get in the elevator and watch the numbers tick higher along with my pulse. I try to tell myself this is a casual dinner, but I can’t stop thinking about what could happenafterwe eat.

Standing in front of Xander’s suite, I lift my hand to knock and cringe at how my fingers are shaking. I clench them into a fist and blow out a slow breath as I knock.

A minute later, footsteps sound on the other side of the door before it swings open. The sight of Xander in a black T-shirt and jeans, looking so casually stunning, threatens to steal the air from my lungs. His hair is stylishly tousled and his lips are curled into a warm smile.

“Camille,” he says in greeting, his voice deep and smooth. “Come in.”

He steps aside, and I cross the threshold, taking in his apartment.

The entryway has dark gray walls and a small rectangular table with a round mirror hung above it and a small dish for keys. I toe off my flats, leaving them off to the side, then follow Xander into the open concept space that makes up his kitchen and living room. High ceilings with massive windows add to the room’s spaciousness, and the dark leather furniture and exposed brick wall in the kitchen give it a masculine touch. Jazz music plays softly from somewhere deeper in the apartment.

It smells fresh and clean, like like fabric softener. Likehim.

“This place is stunning,” I comment, my gaze sliding toward the kitchen area and admiring the matte black cupboards and slate countertops. Exposed bulbs add warm light to the space, and the island acts as a dining space with ample room to host at least four people without feeling crowded.

“Thanks. I wish I could take credit for the design, but it came furnished. It’s a good thing I don’t mind the whole industrial look.” He walks around the island into the kitchen and gestures to a fully stocked glass bar cart against the wall under one of the many floor to ceiling windows. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“Please,” I say, sliding onto a swivel stool at the island counter. “A whiskey sour would be great.”

Xander gets to work making my cocktail, first by adding bourbon and simple syrup to a copper shaker.

I take that opportunity to scope out the rest of the space, at least what I can see from my seat. The living room is a fair size, taken up mostly by an L-shaped couch and square, black wooden coffee table. The focal point is a huge flat-screen TV, and the rest of that wall is lined with black bookshelves that stretch from the hardwood floor to the concrete ceiling.

“I was thinking Italian for dinner,” Xander says, pouring freshly squeezed lemon juice into the shaker, filling the space between us with the faint scent of citrus.

“I never say no to carbs,” I tell him with a smile, watching as he separates an egg to add in a bit of the white next.

He sends me a grin, then focuses back on finishing the drink, giving it a quick dry shake before adding ice and shaking again. He strains it into two cocktail glasses filled with ice before walking around the counter to hand one to me.

“Thank you,” I murmur, my skin tingling as our fingers brush.

“Cheers.”

We clink our glasses, and I take a sip. The velvety citrus flavor bursts along my tastebuds, and I lick my lips. “This is amazing.”

He takes a sip of his own, keeping his eyes on me. “I’m glad you like it.” Walking back around the island into the kitchen, he fills a large pot with water and ignites one of the gas stove burners.

“Can I help with anything?”

Xander turns back to me after adding salt to the water. “You can tell me more about you.”

I swallow another drink, pressing my lips together as the butterflies in my stomach give a healthy flutter. “What do you want to know?”

His responding smile makes my heart beat faster. “Everything.”

A short laugh escapes me as I set my drink down. “Well, you already know about my…unusualfamily situation, so we can skip that part. And we covered school last time…”

“What do you enjoy doing outside of school?”

I consider it for a moment. “I used to love painting, but I haven’t done it in a while with how busy school and work have kept me.”

Xander leans against the counter, folding his arms over his chest, and I make a good effort to keep my eyes from dropping to admire them. “Do you miss it?”

I have his complete attention, and it makes it rather difficult to sit still. In the same beat, there’s a part of me that seems to blossom from it. I feel more confident—wanted for who I am instead of who others want me to be. And what a dangerous feeling that is—an addiction in the making. I nod. “It’s easy to ignore the complications of reality when you’re so engrossed in a project that nothing else matters. I guess I miss the escape.”

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