Page 16 of Breaking the Rules
“Let me in, Angel. Do it before you get hurt.”
Waverly pushed back from the table. “I already got hurt, X. I’m a lot stronger now.” She picked up her plate and mug. “Thanks for breakfast.”
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He hadn’t meant to push her so early, but historically his control around Waverly sucked. Some things never changed. He wondered if she felt the difference from yesterday to today that was so evident to him. Even the way she moved was stronger, more energetic. She’d tangled with him, verbally at least, and he saw her color coming back.
She’d never admit it, but arguing with him made her feel more alive. And he felt the same thing.
He needed to be more patient,Xavier reminded himself,needed to give her time to get used to having him around again.And he needed to find ways to wear her down. One chip at a time until she was his again.
Last night, he’d ordered his research department to make a few unofficial inquiries into Dante Wrede’s whereabouts. He’d also done a little looking himself before turning in. Dante had last been publicly seen in L.A. on Friday. Sunday—the same day that Waverly’s stint in rehab was announced—an unnamed source had told a handful of gossip sites that he was enjoying a long, impromptu vacation in the Seychelles, but no one had captured him there frolicking on the beach or otherwise.
Xavier also knew there had been no flight plans filed for the Seychelles by the charter company that Wrede favored. So if he’d gone abroad, someone else had taken him.
One thing he was sure about, whatever Waverly was tangled up in, Wrede had put her there.
He took another minute to stare out over the crystal blue of the water and realized he felt lighter than he had in years. Just being near her was enough to lift the weight of the fog he’d operated under for so long. He could almost picture his mother saying, “I told you so.” And she would as soon as he told her he was back on Waverly’s security detail. She’d root for him just as she’d lambasted him for letting her go all those years ago.
There were voices coming from inside. The rest of the gang was ready to meet the day. Xavier rose and picked up his dishes.
“Is he still here?” he heard Kate hiss as he walked in from the patio.
“He is,” Xavier answered for Waverly. “And you slept through breakfast, so you can fend for yourself,” he told her.
Marisol was studying Waverly intently with her dark, all-seeing eyes. “You look better today,” she told her.
Waverly nodded and avoided looking at Xavier. “I feel better.”
“I wonder why?” Marisol sniffed smugly.
Waverly narrowed her eyes at the woman, knowing exactly what she was implying. “I got a good night’s sleep.Alone, Mari,” she said pointedly.
Xavier knew exactly what Marisol was doing. Sending him a message that he wasn’t the only one who’d improved with his visit.
“Whatever you say,” Marisol said innocently.
Waverly looked as though she was barely resisting the urge to stomp her foot.
“Hey, before Mari has to head to the airport, why don’t we do that dress fitting in case we’re back in town for the Fundraiser Fashion Gala?” Kate suggested, stepping in to distract.
“You don’t know when you’re going home?” Xavier asked. “Is someone telling you when you can come back?”
Waverly gave Kate a shove toward the stairs. “Can’t talk! Dress fitting,” she announced, and the three women trooped upstairs.
Xavier shook his head. Whatever they were hiding, he’d find out.
He took his laptop and a second cup of coffee onto the patio off his room and set up at the table. It was nice to be working out of a closer time zone to Micah and the L.A. headquarters. He already had a few responses to his requests the night before, including one from Micah.
Saint,
Here I was, happy as a pig in shit when I saw you put in for your first vacation in a hundred years. I was thinking, “Finally, Saint’s pulling himself together and running off to a tropical paradise with a beautiful woman.” And then I see your request for Research to look into Dante Wrede.
You’d better not be pulling Invictus resources to stalk She Who Shall Not Be Named’s boyfriend, or I’m going to have to call for an intervention.
Go have yourself a legitimate vacation and at least one drink with an umbrella in it. Or else.
Micah
