Page 115 of Crossing the Line
She stared at him coolly, not ready to voice the fifteen snarky comments she had on the tip of her tongue.
“Well, we could start with the fact that Ganim is still spouting off threats about teaching you some respect to the agent running your page. Or maybe we should talk about the fact that my team proved that the email allegedly sent by Tiffani Plotts to the investigating officer came from the guest WIFI network at the Rail Car Diner where Daisy Louchner worked—the diner that’s two blocks from Ganim’s house. And the convenient timestamp on the photos of the dead girls that Ganim sent to you proves that she was already dead when the email was sent.”
Waverly took a deep, cleansing breath. Then another.
“Or maybe we should talk about how asinine it is to sneak you back into the country only to parade you around in a nightclub filled with assholes with cell phones begging Ganim to make a move on you? Or the fact that our internal investigation turned up nothing on the leak that told Ganim you were staying with me the night of the premiere. So we still have no idea how he found you there.”
“X, relax,” Waverly sighed.
“How about you relax? You’re the one with the security ready to take bullets for you. You pay us to worry for you. I’m happy to serve my people up tonight so you can go out clubbing,” he snapped.
Her control was fraying. “You know it’s not my choice!”
“Everything is your choice,” he snapped back. “Some decisions are just more complicated than others. You are willingly walking into a fucking trap and dragging me and my team along for the ride.”
“Then don’t go,” she snapped.
“You’re starting to piss me off,” he warned.
“Starting to? You’ve been in dick mode since we took off,” she argued. “You think I want to go out tonight? You think I’m happy about opening you up to the threat that sees you as an obstacle to me?”
“Then don’t fucking go. Stay home and lay low. Don’t put other people in harm’s way so you can get your attention fix.”
He wasn’t playing fair. He was hitting her where it hurt on purpose.
“Xavier, I have a contract—”
“You have more fucking money than God. Fuck your contract. Stop being a doormat to these people who don’t give a shit about you.”
“Look, not everyone has the same freedom that you do. You can walk away from this easier than I can,” she told him.
“Oh, yeah, because that would look great to potential clients. Invictus let Waverly Sinner go out clubbing all by herself, and then she got attacked by a fucking serial killer. That’s a ringing endorsement for my business.”
“So that’s what you’re worried about? Your business. Wow, for a second I thought it was me. My mistake.” Sarcasm dripped from her words.
“Shut the fuck up, Waverly,” he snapped.
“No, let’s try it your way. Let’s talk this out.” She was fired up now. God, to think she’d forgotten that he could burn her like everyone else. It was a humiliation to realize she’d purposely let her guard down with him. He was just like everyone else. “I was feeling so dreamy-eyed from last night. I’m glad you’re clearing the air before we hit the ground and I embarrass myself by professing my undying love for you.”
Xavier leaned forward in his seat. “You’ve got me lined up as second prize to Stanford. I’m no one’s second prize. And we both know you’re not in love. You don’t know what love is.”
“Message received.” She released her seatbelt and stood.
“Where are you going?” he demanded.
“Somewhere where I don’t have to look at you,” she snapped.
She strapped herself into a seat in the back facing away from him and closed her eyes. How had she let herself be so vulnerable to him? She tucked her ear buds into her ears and cued up her Pissed Off playlist. She’d almost let herself… care for him. Almost let him in.Who was she kidding? She already did. She already had.Tears burned at the back of her throat, but she’d be damned if she’d shed them in front of him. They could wait until she was home, alone, in her own bed tonight.
As the lump in her throat choked her, all she could think of was that maybe her mother was right. Her phone buzzed with her first domestic text in three weeks. It was from a blocked number.
Welcome home. I’ve been waiting for you.
She frowned at the screen. No one had this number. It was probably just spam or a mistake. It certainly wasn’t anyone she knew. She decided not to mention the text to Xavier, mostly because the idea of broaching a conversation with him made her want to throw things.
The text couldn’t have come from Ganim, she told herself. If he had her number he would have been contacting her for months. It was just some random mistake.
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