Page 50 of Crossing the Line
She stormed into her room and pulled on a two-piece bathing suit and cover-up. She’d hit a few laps in the pool before sneaking into the gym in the big house. She needed to burn off some of this frustration before Gwendolyn got here. If she didn’t, she was guaranteed to say or do something her mother would make her regret.
“I’m going for a swim,” she said brusquely, heading for the front door.
“Waverly.” Xavier closed the refrigerator. He’d pulled on a t-shirt, though it was fitted enough to leave little of his spectacular physique to the imagination.
“What?”
“I’m sorry for yelling at you.” He made it sound like it pained him to apologize. “I didn’t sleep well last night, and I took it out on you.”
“I didn’t get a lot of sleep either,” she admitted.
He gave her a long look. “Maybe it was for the same reason.”
A blush heated her cheeks. She had a feeling he wasn’t talking about Ganim. Had he seen her in the doorway?
“I’m sure we both had a lot of things on our mind,” she said diplomatically.
He gave her a half-smile. “How about I make breakfast while you swim? Consider it part of the apology.”
“I like my bacon extra crispy,” she said, keeping it cool.
She didn’t bother easing into the water. The pool was heated to prevent the mundane suffering of cold pool water on a sensitive belly. Waverly shed her cover up on a lounger and dove into the crystal blue waters. She surfaced and cleanly carved through the water with a freestyle stroke.
Her very first movie at the tender age of six had been a reimagined, modern daySwiss Family Robinson. The swimming lessons had stuck and now she could outswim just about anyone who dared challenge her.
She let her mind empty of thoughts of Xavier and Ganim, the premiere, and where she wanted to be at summer’s end. Emptied until the only things left were the count of her strokes, the steady pull of her breath. Here in the water was peace and presence. Here everything was fine and safe. Waverly powered through a dozen laps and then slowed to a more leisurely pace for the last few. When she finally surfaced at the end, bare feet greeted her.
Xavier set her coffee mug down on the stone edge of the pool. “Breakfast is ready.”
“Thanks,” she said breathlessly.
He held out a hand to her, and she took it, letting him haul her out of the water with ease.
She grabbed a towel from one of the stations that ringed the pool. “Kate up yet?”
“Yes, and whining that she’s going to waste away before you—and I quote—‘get your ass out of the pool.’”
Waverly sighed. “Let’s get this day started.”
“Are we good?” Xavier picked up her mug and handed it to her.
“Yeah, we’re good.”
--------
Gwendolyn Riddington-Macks was a cool, cunning, ball-busting power publicist. Her client list included the crème de la crème of Hollywood’s A-list. She had single-handedly rebranded dying franchises, launched unknown talents to spectacular heights, and kept the wraps on all her clients’ secrets. Her fees were astronomical. Her honey blonde hair was always styled into a chic chignon. Her pencil skirts always ended three inches above her knees and her heels were never under four.
Waverly couldn’t begin to guess Gwendolyn’s age. The woman had the enviable twin fortunes of good genes and a very skilled plastic surgeon for a third husband.
“Waverly,” Gwendolyn offered a cool, firm handshake when she was escorted into the parlor in the main house. There was no smile or pleasantries. Her clients didn’t pay her to be warm and fuzzy. “I understand you have some business to discuss before we talk about your tour.”
“I do. Would you like some water or tea?” Even with Gwendolyn, Waverly found herself unable to dispense with those pleasantries. She led the way to the round pedestal Hepplewhite by the windows that Mari had set with meeting goodies, including crystal glasses of cucumber water and an artful display of MarieBelle chocolates.
Gwendolyn sank gracefully onto the silk covered, armless chair. She ignored the spread before her and brought up a photo on her phone. “Is this, by chance, what you wanted to talk about?” She turned the screen to face Waverly.
Her stomach clenched. “I’m going to kill her,” Waverly whispered. This time her mother had gone too far.
There on the gossip site was a blurry picture of Xavier and Waverly by the pool. From Xavier’s attire and their close stance, the story the picture told was clear. And for those too lazy to draw their own conclusions, the caption spelled it out. “Waverly Sinner has upgraded to twenty-four seven security. Her new bodyguard enjoyed a cozy breakfast with his charge after spending the night. We wonder how secure her bedroom was last night?”
