Page 47 of Breaking the Rules
Waverly laughed at the memory of the sopping wet Xavier. “I felt really good about that.”
“But I assume you eventually became very happy to have him in your life,” Max said, switching gears into serious.
Waverly heard the murmur in the crowd and knew that the screens behind them were playing some of the footage from that night. She reached over and grabbed Xavier’s wrist. Her nails dug in. She didn’t need strength, she needed him to not flip out and commit murder on national television.
They kept their backs to the footage, a unified front with the past solidly behind them. It was the longest thirty seconds of Waverly’s life. She could feel Xavier vibrating under her hand. She didn’t blame him. They’d been ambushed into opening up about something so private and painful. Something they’d both rather leave in the past.
It was her price to pay. She had to willingly give up the privacy that others had in order to be successful in this industry. But Xavier had never made that bargain. And it wasn’t fair to make him pay for her choices.
“That night was an emotional one for all of us who are such big fans of yours, Waverly,” Max began. The audience didn’t even need the cue to cheer.
“Thank you,” she said once they’d settled down. “It wasn’t a walk in the park for us either.”
“Can you tell us what you remember about that night?” Max asked in his mellow baritone.
Waverly released Xavier’s hand, but as she gave her whitewashed version of the events of that night, she felt his arm on the back of her chair reminding her that he was never far away.
“What a horrifying ordeal,” Max said sympathetically. “How about you Xavier. What do you remember?”
“Doing my job.”
Max let the silence stretch on for a few moments before moving on. “And you clearly did it well. Now, is it true that you had a parting of the ways after that night?” Max prompted them.
She felt Xavier’s hand on her back and Waverly nodded. “It was a traumatic incident, and I think we both needed to get away from the reminders of how difficult that night was.”
The audience was riveted.
“And now?” Max leaned forward.
“Now we’re getting to know each other again,” she said.
“So your relationship is strictly professional?” Max pressed.
“Let me put it this way, Max.” Xavier said the man’s name as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. “Waverly and I have been through a lot together to the point where ‘strictly professional’ isn’t possible. I care for her very much, so whether it’s in a personal or professional capacity, if anyone wants to hurt her, they’re going to have to go through me first.”
The audience thought that was awesome and got to their feet.
“I’m here with Waverly Sinner and Xavier Saint,” Max said turning to Camera One. “Don’t go anywhere because, when we come back, we’ll be playing puppy poker with our favorite Sinner and Saint.”
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A Katy Perry tune filled Max Heim’s green room and had Waverly snatching up her phone, hoping Xavier stayed out in the hallway for a few more minutes.
“Chels?”
“Hey, I don’t have much for you, but hopefully it’s a starting place,” Chelsea began.
“Okay, go.”
“Stepanov looks clean. Squeaky clean. That doesn’t mean he’s not into something dirty. It just means if he is, it’s buried deep. He juggles about a gajillion business deals a year, real estate, manufacturing, etc. I did come across something that lines up with your timing though. About two months ago, this biotech firm—Axion Pharmaceuticals—says they want to buy some of his pharmaceutical manufacturing licenses, a hypertension drug and an antimalarial.”
“Did they make an offer?”
“Several, but the deal never went through. It’s not like Stepanov makes a ton on the formularies. Pills of each are sold for between seventy-five cents and a buck apiece.”
“So what happened to the deal?”
“The biotech company lobbied pretty hard, but Stepanov turned them down flat in August.”
