Chapter 19: NINETEEN: TENSION.

LEONARD DE LUCA:

Come home. We need to talk.

Xavier had ignored the message the first time.

He saw it flash on his screen while he was in a meeting and dismissed it without opening it. His father had a habit of sending messages that weren’t really messages—summons disguised as concern.

The second one came hours later.

Still, he didn’t respond.

It wasn’t until the third message arrived that night that he finally slowed his steps and looked at his phone properly.

LEONARD DE LUCA:

If you won’t come here, I’ll come to you.

Xavier exhaled through his nose.

That was the problem with his father. He didn’t ask. He decided. And every time he made a decision, it was always one that enraged Xavier.

It was bad enough he didn’t want to go to his father’s house. If things turned around and he came to his house instead, that would be worse. For a number of reasons he could count, one particular one oddly making its way to the top.

By the time Xavier got into his car, irritation had settled deep in his chest. It was one thing to do something he hated with every fiber of his being and another to do it without giving himself enough time to prepare for the consequences.

The drive across the city felt longer than usual. He wished he could drive slower to delay the moment he had to see his face but taking things slow had never been one of his strengths. He charged at full speed and less than our later, the gates of his father’s mansion finally came into view, his jaw clenching in response.

The guards recognized him immediately. The gates slid open without question, the driveway stretching ahead like a reminder of everything he’d chosen to step away from. The house loomed, pristine and imposing, lit from within as though always prepared for an audience.

Xavier parked and stepped out of the car before anyone could open the door for him. he balled his fists and hardened his expression, preparing himself for whatever could come next.

Inside, the house was quiet in the way only places built on old money ever were. The air smelled faintly of polish and expensive cologne. Nothing ever felt lived-in here. Everything was maintained. Preserved.

His father was in the sitting room, glass of whiskey in hand. His stepmother sat nearby, legs crossed neatly, her posture flawless as ever.

She looked up first.

“Xavier,” she said, lips curving into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’re here. Honey, he is here.”

He acknowledged her with a brief nod before turning to his father. “You called.”

“You look well,” his father said, standing. “Busy, I imagine.”

“If you knew that much, why did you insist I wasted my time by coming here?”

His father chuckled, used to his son’s frequent sarcastic replies. It was the way things were between them. The way it had always been. “At least, take a seat. When was the last time you visited home?”

Xavier remained standing. He didn’t take a seat.

“Suit yourself then,” he took another sip of his whiskey then signaled at his wife to refill his glass. “I’ll just go straight to the point. The deal with the Castellanos. I heard it went through.”

“Did you call me here just because you wanted to hear it directly from me?”

“Not exactly that,” Leonard clicked his tongue. “I wanted to hear how you managed it. I heard with went through smoothly. But the interesting thing is I also heard Damon almost beat you to it. So I got curious. How did things work out in your favor so easily?”

Xavier said nothing. He watched his stepmother gently rest her hand on his thigh, her lips curling as she whispered something to him.

“Come on, won’t you tell your old man?” he continued. “I heard Damon isn’t so easy these days so I’m impressed.”

Xavier balled his fists, the sight unfolding in front of him making him sick to his stomach. He wanted to leave but unless he answered his question, he knew the pestering was going to be endless.

He parted his lips and before he could even come up with a response, his stepmother spoke up.

“He found his pressure point,” she said smoothly. “Didn’t you?”

Xavier’s gaze snapped to her, sharp and warning. She met it calmly, unfazed and went on.

“Damon finally allowed himself the grace of a weakness,” she lifted a glass Xavier hadn’t noticed all along. “A woman. So, Xavier was able to pull the right strings and make him succumb using her as a bait.”

Xavier’s glare hardened but she ignored it. His knuckles went white and it took everything in him to not move over to her and stop her from speaking.

“Oh, is that so?” His father laughed, clearly pleased. “I’m glad we were able to raise Xavier to know better than that then. Love. Attachment. Sentiment clouds judgment. Such foolishness that can always be avoided.”

“If that’s all you have to say, I’ll be taking my leave then.”

“I’m throwing a party,” his father quickly said, watching Xavier turn around to leave. “To celebrate the success of the deal. You’ll attend.”

The refusal was immediate.

“No. I won’t.”

His stepmother leaned forward slightly, her fingers curling around her husband’s shoulders.

“Come on, Xavier, you should come,” she said gently. “You’re the star of the night. What’s a birthday party without the birthday boy?”

Xavier could have exploded from both anger and irritation.

“Like I already said, if that’s you wanted to say,” Xavier replied evenly. “Then we’re done here.”

He didn’t wait to read whatever emotions was on both their faces. All he did was bow and turned to leave, neither of them stopping him.

The drive back was quieter, Xavier doing his best to not replay the entire conversation in his head. He stared at the road the entire time, the blurring passing lights burning in his brain until it almost messed with his vision.

By the time he got home, he got out of the car and tossed the keys at the nearest guard, too worked up to even park properly. He loosened his tie as he made his way towards the front door, his steps slowing as he realize the lights were on.

Not just one, he could spot a figure in the living room.

A soft exhale escaped his lips as he gave the front door an aggressive shove, immediately watching Juliet get on her feet, their gazes meeting almost in a rehearsed motion.

"You're back," she spoke up first, her fingers curling by her side.  “I was waiting because I wanted to tell you something."

He removed his jacket slowly, eyes on her. He watched her fidget for a while, her movements nothing like his dad’s or his stepmother.

"I got a new job," she continued, words tumbling out. "It's at a restaurant a bit close to campus. The pay is good and I'll be able to save quickly, so I won't need to stay here long. I'll start looking for a place soon and-“

"Juliet."

She stopped mid-sentence.

He met her eyes, studying her the way he studied deals carfully, thoroughly. There was something about her he was yet to place a finger on. Something about her that stirred foreign emotions in him. Something that made him do things he usually never did.

"Would you like to go to a party with me?"

“What?” She immediately blinked, her eyebrows going up. “A party?”

Never for once had he ever considered himself to be a good person. Emotions like sympathy and pity just never existed to him. People were merely transactional- he either used them or discarded them.

Yet, he allowed her live in his house. Despite having no use for her, he was keeping her around him. He allowed her become the first person he laid his eyes on when he returned home.

And somehow, she became the first person able to dull the anger that followed his encounters with the two people he hated most in life.

“No,” he rephrased, leaving no room for further explanations. “You’re going to a party with me.”