Chapter 48 DON’T FALL FOR ANOTHER CROSS

Chapter 48 DON’T FALL FOR ANOTHER CROSS
THIRD PERSON POV

Veronica’s jaw actually dropped. She stared at him, mouth slightly open, before she caught herself and closed it. “What? That’s… Jesus, Xavier. That’s messed up. How could he do that to you?”

Xavier shrugged, his broad shoulders lifting slightly before falling again, as if the weight of the memory had long since settled into his bones. “Who knows…”

“Wait—how did it even happen?” she pressed, leaning forward. “Did he just walk up and say, ‘Xavier committed sexual assault,’ with no proof? And everyone believed him?”

“Not exactly. It was… complicated.” Xavier paused, rubbing the back of his neck. “We had a housekeeper back then. I was twenty-four or twenty-five. Zane was still a teenager. He assaulted her. I walked in right in the middle of it—tried to stop him. He exhaled slowly through his nose. “Next thing I knew, I was the one being accused.”

Next thing I knew, I was the one being accused.”

Veronica’s eyes widened, disbelief flashing across her face. “Hold on. Why would they hire a teenager as a housekeeper in the first place? And didn’t they ask her? And surely she’d have told them what really happened.”

Xavier let out a slow breath. “She was an orphan. My father took her in mainly because she needed the work and he needed someone reliable around the house. He didn’t care much about anything else as long as the chores got done.” He hesitated, then added quietly, “Yeah, they asked her. She looked my father dead in the eye and pointed at me.”

She looked them straight in the eye and pointed at me.”

A heavy silence settled between them.

Veronica’s stomach twisted. “That’s insane. I’m so sorry, Xavier.” Her voice softened. “What about your mom?”

“She died giving birth to me.”

The simple statement hit Veronica like a punch to the chest. 

Veronica felt them like a sudden punch behind her ribs. She instinctively reached out but stopped halfway, unsure if he wanted to be touched right now. “I’m sorry… God, this is such a sensitive topic. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s alright,” he cut in, though his voice had gone rougher. He sniffed once, sharply, and looked away toward the window for a long second. When his eyes came back to hers, they were quieter, more exposed than she’d ever seen them. “I haven’t talked about any of this with anyone in years. Not until you.”

“Part of me thinks the housekeeper lied to protect herself.” He added.

Veronica’s brows knitted together. “What do you mean?”

“She had nowhere else to go. If she had told the truth—that it was Zane who attacked her—she would’ve been thrown out on the streets. My father… he never liked me much. Blamed me for my mother’s death, I guess. Zane was the golden child. Always had been. If she’d accused Zane, she’d have lost everything.”

“So you’re saying your father knew it was Zane,” Veronica said slowly, anger simmering beneath her words, “but he used it as an excuse to get rid of you?”

Xavier’s jaw tightened. He hadn’t allowed himself to frame it quite so bluntly before, but hearing her say it out loud made the truth land harder. “Yeah,” he muttered. “That’s exactly what it was.”

Veronica shot to her feet, unable to sit still any longer. “That’s ridiculous. I’m sorry, but who does that? You didn’t kill your mother. You were a baby, for God’s sake.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “If he’s still holding that against you, then fuck him.”

Xavier watched her, a faint, surprised smile tugging at his lips.

She paced a few steps, then stopped. “Where did Zane even come from? Different mother?”

“Yeah. My father remarried a few years after I was born. But Zane’s mom cheated. Eventually, she disappeared. We never heard from her again.”

“Deserved,” Veronica muttered. Then her expression darkened. “This feels personal. Why isn’t he hating on Zane? His mom literally cheated on him, isn’t that worse?.”

“And Zane…” She shook her head. “Fuck him too, wherever he is.”

Xavier’s voice was quiet but steady. “Nah. I’ve forgiven him. Forgiven Zane Cross a long time ago.”

Veronica’s stomach dropped so fast she felt dizzy. She froze. “Uh… Zane Cross? That’s your brother’s name?”

“Yeah. Why?”

Her pulse thundered in her ears. “Can you… describe him?”

Xavier chuckled softly, leaning back against the chair. “How do you expect me to describe him? I haven’t seen the guy in over twenty years.”

Veronica’s mind raced. Zane Cross. Atlanta. The same name. Her thoughts spun wildly, but she forced her face to stay neutral. It couldn’t be. No way it couldn’t be him.

She swallowed hard. “Wait a damn fucking min… are you lying about something you said your father forced you into marriage with Camila. How did that even happen?”

“I came back, we talked and reunited. He’s different now. I’ve forgiven him too.”

“So where is Zane now?” she asked, trying to keep her voice casual.

“When I was back home, my father mentioned he’d signed with an NBA team. Hasn’t been home since. I think he’s scared I might still hold a grudge.” Xavier smiled faintly, almost sadly. “But I don’t. He was just a messed-up teenager back then. Kids do stupid, terrible things.”

Veronica felt like the floor was tilting beneath her. Zane had once told her the exact same thing—he’d played in the NBA but was retired now. The pieces clicked together too perfectly. Could they really be brothers?

She tried to sound nonchalant. “Do you remember how old he is now?”

“Thirty-seven this year. Why?”

Her eyes widened before she could stop them. The Zane she met in Atlanta was thirty-seven too.

“Oh… nothing. Just curious.”

Xavier studied her for a long moment, his dark eyes narrowing with quiet intensity. The way he looked at her made her skin prickle. “You’re lying.” He said, low and certain.

She forced out a light laugh, waving a hand. “Lying? About what?”

“Veronica.” His tone dropped, laced with that possessive edge that always made her pulse stutter.

“What? It’s true,” she said quickly, desperate to change the subject. “I even forgot to tell you—I ran into Jason at the mall the other day.”

Xavier’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “He threatened you, didn’t he?”

“How did you know?”

“The little boy showed up at my office, acting like a fool.”

Veronica laughed despite everything. “Classic Jason. But why do you always call him ‘little boy’?”

A slow, almost tender smirk crossed Xavier’s face. “Because he’s my little boy.”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

“He’s my adoptive son.”

Veronica’s stomach plummeted. Adoptive son? So Jason hadn’t been delusional after all. The revelations kept crashing over her like waves, each one more overwhelming than the last. First Zane. Now this. Why was she tangled in every thread of Xavier’s life?

“That’s insane,” she whispered. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner that he was your son?”

Xavier shrugged. “I figured you’d put it together eventually. The last name’s Cross, Veronica.”

She stared at him, stunned. She really hadn’t connected the dots.

“You know,” she said, voice shaky, teeth clenched, “this isn’t normal. I can’t keep catching feelings for men from the same damn family.”

Xavier’s smirk deepened, a slow, knowing curve that made something flutter low in her belly. Satisfaction flickered openly in his dark eyes. “So you’re admitting you have feelings for me?

Veronica felt heat flood her cheeks. She groaned, half embarrassed, half exasperated, and tried to look anywhere but at his face. “Mr. Cross, please…”

The moment the words left her mouth, she knew she’d messed up.

Xavier’s smirk turned sharper, almost predatory. He let out a low, rough chuckle that vibrated through his chest. “Are you trying to seduce me right now, Kitten?”

She rolled her eyes, even as her pulse kicked up. “What now?” she muttered, the words coming out breathier than she intended. She placed a hand on his chest, intending to push him back a little, but her fingers only curled slightly into his shirt instead. “You’re impossible.”

He didn’t move an inch. If anything, he leaned in closer, his hands still firm on her waist, thumbs continuing those slow, maddening circles that were making it hard for her to think. The warmth of his body pressed against hers felt too good, too solid. She could smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with something that was just… him.

“You call me that because you know it gets to me,” he murmured, voice dropping lower, intimate. His breath brushed the shell of her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. “Say it again.”

She swallowed hard, fighting the urge to lean into him. “You’re enjoying this way too much, aren’t you?.”

“Maybe I am.” His grip tightened just a fraction, possessive but still careful, like he was giving her every chance to pull away even while daring her not to. “But you still haven’t answered my question.”

As his hand stayed on her waist while the other slid slowly up her back, palm warm and broad, pulling her flush against him. The contact was grounding and dangerous all at once — his chest solid against her breasts, his thigh brushing hers.

“Are the kids in school yet?” he asked, voice low and husky, lips close enough that she felt the words ghost across her hair.

“Not yet,” she managed, her own voice sounding embarrassingly unsteady. “I was thinking of enrolling them soon.”

“Good.” His fingers flexed against her hip. “Get them ready first thing tomorrow. I’ll come pick you all up.”

She nodded, biting the inside of her cheek as his touch made heat pool low in her stomach. Her skin felt too warm, too sensitive where his hands rested on her. Every slow circle of his thumbs sent little sparks racing straight between her thighs.

Xavier tilted his head slightly, eyes locking onto hers with raw, unguarded honesty mixed with something darker, hungrier. His free hand came up to cup the side of her face, thumb brushing slowly, deliberately across her lower lip. The gentle pressure made her lips part on a shaky breath.

“Honestly, mi amor…” he said, voice barely above a whisper, gaze dropping to her mouth for a heavy second before returning to her eyes, “do you love me?”