Page 70 of Detectives in Love
“Perfect. So, there at noon?”
“Yes. See you then!”
“See you.”
I hang up and glance at Xavier. “Katie wants to meet up.”
“Mm,” Xavier hums, unreadable.
“I’ll ask her about letting us into Rishetor one more time,” I say, just to break the sudden tension between us.
Xavier meets my gaze in the mirror. His lips twitch for a second as he tucks his shirt into his pants.
“It’s fine,” he says—almost bitter. “You don’t need an excuse.”
“What?” I blink, thrown. “Excuse for what?”
“Nothing,” he says, buttoning his coat. “I’ll talk to Mrs. Bridge myself.”
Right. Mrs. Bridge. I’d almost forgotten.
“I still have time,” I say, exasperated. “I’ve got two hours.”
“It’s fine,” he says again, colder this time. “Go enjoy your date.”
I blink, stunned by the way it lands—like an accusation.
“It’s not a date,” I say, my throat going dry. “Why are you picking a fight over nothing?”
“I’m not picking a fight,” he says, not looking at me. But I can already feel the wall he’s thrown up between us.
“Then what is it?” I snap, arms crossing over my chest.
He turns to me, jaw tight, eyes almost angry—and for a second, I think he might actually yell. His glare is sharp enough to cut. His whole body’s tense, breaths coming fast.
But before he can say anything, the bathroom door creaks open and Bernard’s head pops in.
“Guys, I hate to interrupt, but there’s a swarm of paparazzi outside the café. And it looks like they’re here for you…”
“Shit,” I mutter, turning to Xavier—but he just brushes past me without a word and walks out.
CHAPTER 10. EXPOSED
The bells over the entrance jingle like a warning. At least half a dozen journalists have already crammed into the café, and the second I step into the hallway, I’m hit with a barrage of flashing cameras.
Xavier stands by the bathroom door, momentarily stunned—like even he wasn’t expecting this level of chaos. Leading the charge is none other than Selena Hast, pushing ahead with the rest of the press at her heels.
“Mr. Ormond! Just a few questions—”
“Mr. Doherty, is it true that you and Xavier Ormond—”
The waitress plants herself in front of them, trying to block their path. Her eyes are still red from earlier, but she squares her shoulders and says firmly, “Ladies and gentlemen, please take a seat or leave the café.”
It’s a solid effort—but it doesn’t do a damn thing. The journalists don’t even look at her.
“Mr. Ormond, can you comment on—”
Bernard turns to us, urgency written all over his face. “You need to get out of here. Now.”
