Page 133 of Cara
The French doors are wide open. Having lost a hinge, one of them is swinging at an angle, banging against the brick exterior. Chairs lie overturned and broken. One banquet table has lost a leg and is partially collapsed on the ground. The caterers abandoned their equipment, leaving the food still roasting on the warmers.
I hear the front door slam open, the leather soles of shoes thundering across the central part of the house. When Xavier’s behind me, he breathes my name. “Sophie.”
His voice shatters the shock. My urge to see him safe outweighs this crippling panic. I turn, still trying to comprehend what just happened. My mother’s entrance. Her warning. The single second that spared his heart from that bullet.
Xavier appears before me in a flash, faster than I can blink, gripping my face with an ironlike hold.
His eyes widen in horror as he gasps, “Oh my God,” at the sight of the blood dripping down my cheek.
“It missed.” Caught up in his arms, I try to soothe him as he shouts in fear for Dante to call an ambulance. “It missed. I'mokay.”
His face twists and builds like a blustery tempest, seething eyes blazing as his hands grip my hair, yanking me closer. Every shake is imbued with intense, fervent rage. “Don’teverfucking do that again.Ever. You don’t put yourself in the line of fire for me. That’s not how this works!”
“I had to.”
“No,” he snaps, actually livid. Beautifully livid—andalive. “Promise me, Sophia. Right now.”
Sophia? Oh, he’s losing it.
And I don’t care.
My eyes wander over his anguished features with a special kind of awe. As if time has chosen now to stand absolutely still for us, my fingers delicately brush against his flushed cheeks, still shaking. He looks ready to kill me himself, rejecting my tenderness entirely until he hears me whisper, “What use is my body without yours?”
Xavier looks utterly horrified—his eyes wide and wild, as though the very ground beneath him has shattered, as if he can’t believe the words that have just tumbled from my mouth with complete ease. As he stares at me, his chest still heaving with frantic breaths, a sense of acceptance begins to wash over the terror that had previously consumed him.
It doesn’t take him long to let out a raw, agonized sound, pressing his forehead up against mine. “Cazzo,” he breathes, stroking my hair. “Jesus, Sophie.”
I nestle into his chest, breathing in his calming scent, and let my eyes drift shut, surrendering to blissful relief.
After a lifetime of nothing, Camilla Marin gave me the greatest gift I’ve ever received—his heart, beating for another day.
Sophie
Xavier flips a switch, and the private gym illuminates under glaring overhead lights. A workout is part of his morning routine, incorporated into the only gap in his busy schedule—before dawn.
Since the attack, I’ve found myself rolling out of bed with him, compelled by a sick twisting in my gut—a jack knife right to the stomach every time I think of how I thought, even for a moment, that I could let my guard down here.
Any sense of security I had is gone.
The truth is inescapable.
Our lives will always be in danger. Because we have something to lose, we willneverbe stronger than they are. It feels like it’s only a matter of time before the next threat.
We should both be prepared for it.
By the time I’ve stretched and settled into the leg press machine, he’s finishing the chest press, switching to an indoor row trainer, applying the same discipline to his exercise that he maintains throughout the rest of his day. There isn’t an ounce of excess fat on him, which becomes totally apparent while watching him blast through pull-ups, focused on engaging hiscore and targeting his lats. After a few minutes, his nylon shirt is soaked with sweat, clinging to that sculpted body he puts so much effort into.
Every so often, when our eyes meet across the room, and I’m caught appreciating the view, he flashes a smile that brings my pulse to life, enjoying every minute of watching me lose my concentration.
Despite everything, we cherish every single day together. No fighting. No desire to spend time apart. When his long days end, he finds me wherever I am, choosing to review contracts and work in whatever room I'm using at the time. On the days he gets home before I do, having gone into the city with Dante or Zeke to see Courtney, I return to a meal on the table and all of his attention.
I never doubted the vows Xavier made to me in that beach house, nor the ones he made on our wedding day. Each night, he’s there, slipping under the covers to spoon me close. And every morning, he’s usually between my legs, coaxing me to consciousness and filling my senses with ecstasy before our day even begins.
The routine helps.
It keeps me grounded when everything else is changing.
We keep all of our gatherings small and outside the house, except for the weekly dinners with our close gang of friends. Bianca got her chance to extract information from me at one of the fundraisers we attended last week, and somehow, my lies were convincing enough. I’m getting better at them.
