Page 29 of Xavier

“Oh, you haven’t gotten to the good part of my outfit yet.” I smiled and turned around where Xavier’s property patch was prominently displayed. When I faced her again, I kept my smile firmly in place as I made introductions. “This is Xavier. These are my parents, Richard and Eleanor Dyson.”

Xavier nodded once, his hand still firmly clasped in mine. “Ma’am. Sir.”

Dad’s gaze swept over Xavier, taking in his tattooed neck, his cut, his entire presence, before dismissing him entirely. “We’ve been trying to reach you for weeks, Matilda. You shouldn’t worry your mother.”

“Wait a minute.” My mother’s eyes had grown wide, and her mouth was now open in a silent “O” of shock. “Oh. My. God! That’s the man who killed poor Paul! Richard! Push the OnStar button! Call 911!” My mother was actually fanning herself. I’d have felt sorry for her except I knew she wasn’t outraged on my behalf. She was angry at Xavier for taking away her ticket to a life of luxury. That’s all my parents ever cared about in life. Money.

“We weren’t notified you were out of prison.” My father was still behind the driver’s-side door. I had no doubt he’d already called the police, and I had the urge to leave. No one had done anything, but a group of ex-cons intimidating an older rich couple wouldn’t work out well for anyone in my party.

“Why would you be?” I asked, trying to get control of the situation before it spiraled. “You weren’t related to him or Paul.”

“Paul was like a son to us.” My mother dabbed at her eyes. “And this… this… animal took him away from us!”

“This animal picked me up on the side of the road in the middle of the worst storm I’d ever seen. I was covered from head to toe in bruises, my clothes ripped and bloodstained. He didn’t ask questions, he simply offered me a ride. When he finally coaxed me into confiding in him, he made it so Paul would never hurt me again.” Memories swamped me. Reliving my nightmare was almost more painful than going through it the first time. I had a visceral reaction to the trauma, breaking out in a sweat. I had to fight to keep my knees from buckling, but I stayed on my feet. “You scoffed at me. Told me to quit being a drama queen.”

“Matilda, really,” Mom huffed, crossing her arms. “Paul was under a lot of stress with his company merger. You were always so sensitive, needing all his attention.”

Xavier’s hand tightened around mine, but he remained silent, letting me fight my own battle. I appreciated that more than he could know.

“I called you from the emergency room with three broken ribs and a fractured cheekbone,” I said, my voice flat. “You hung up on me and told Dad I was causing trouble and that if I didn’t stop, Paul was sure to divorce me and that would mean you’d be cut off from the monthly allowance he gave you.”

My father cleared his throat, glancing around the parking lot as if searching for witnesses. “We should discuss this in private, Matilda. Not in front of… these people.”

“These people,” I said, gesturing to the bikers surrounding us, “are my family. The only real family I’ve ever had.”

“This is outrageous,” my father muttered. “Get in the car, Matilda. We’ll talk about everything when we get home.”

I decided to change tactics because I was so done with this. “So, you’ve been trying to get hold of me for weeks.” I held my arms out to the side. “Well? Here I am. What’s going on?”

“When we get home, Matilda.” My mother’s face was a mask of disapproval I’d grown very familiar with over my lifetime.

I shrugged. “Suit yourself.” I turned to go, knowing Xavier would follow me.

“Wait!” Mother called out to me, actually grabbing my arm to prevent me from leaving. “Come home with us.”

“Sorry. Not where I want to be. Either talk or I’m leaving. It’s that simple.”

“Fine,” my mother bit out between clenched teeth, her anger showing when I’d bet everything I owned she didn’t intend to wear her emotions so close to the surface. “I heard you’re a famous writer. I wanted to congratulate you.”

“I’m not famous.” Much as I wanted my parents to acknowledge my abilities and talents, I also didn’t want to hear the next phase of the conversation. Because this was the part where they asked me for money.

“That’s not what Beulah told me. She said you won an award or something.”

“No awards.”

“She said you wrote a bestseller.” My mother actually smiled at me and made a little effort to look impressed -- when I knew how she felt about my chosen genre!

“I’ve had some luck.”

“You must do well for yourself. I heard you bought a place, though I thought it was in Indiana.”

“It is.” This was painful in more ways than one. I wasn’t leading them into what they were truly getting at, and my mother was trying every way in the world to force me into asking her what she wanted. Nope. I might not have been in control of my life all the time, but I was in control now.

When the silence stretched on, my father was the one to finally break character. “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” he snapped. “We need the rest of the money you got from Paul’s estate. Since you’re a huge success, you don’t need that money.”

“I’m sorry, but you guys got everything. All I had was some cash I’d managed to get out of my bank accounts before you had them all frozen. Including my personal account.” I wanted to be mad, but really what was the point? They weren’t going to change. I couldn’t live with them any longer.

“That was payment for you living with us after Paul was murdered. That way you didn’t have to work while you were dealing with the murder and then the trial.” She glanced at Xavier and shuddered in disgust. “I’ll never understand why you took this beast’s side over a good man like Paul St. Martin.”

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