Chapter 25 Xavier.
Xavier's POV:
I can't believe I let her get to me. Again.
Four years since I last saw her, and she still looks the same.
Watching Anastasia's 5’7 frame step out into the sunlight, midnight waves bouncing across her shoulders, I am transported back to that night. To her cries of pleasure. The way her cunt spasmed around my dick each time she came. How she actually held me like I meant something more to her..
Too bad she was quick to forget and all I was met with the following morning was a blank look and a confused smile.
I let out a bitter laugh.
Even now, casually dressed in just a baggy shirt and shorts, she still manages to turn me on in ways no woman has.
She climbs in next to me, and that's when I see it. The pain masking her face.
“Let’s get back to the hospital,” Anastasia says, taking her hand off her side to fix on her seat belt.
I know well enough to figure her pain isn't entirely physical.
“Why? What happened up there?”
“I don't want to talk about it,” she grinds out, though her voice quivers at the end. “Xavier. Hospital. Please.”
“Well now I'm definitely not taking you there,” I mutter, pulling out of the lot and into the connecting street. “Not yet anyways.”
My right foot presses down on the pedal, speeding up as we gun past corporate buildings and shady alleyways. Anastasia grips the edges of her seat like a vice.
“Xavier, what are you doing, where are we going?” she panics, her head digging into the carseat. “Pull over. I want to get off.”
“Not happening.”
“Look if this is an elaborate trick or scheme you've got planned, I want no part in it.” Her voice rises. “I'll have your clothes dry-cleaned and returned. Or I'll probably just get you another set. I'm sorry for the inconvenience.”
I hit the brakes, jerking us forward with a jolt. Anna nearly loses her shit.
“Jesus fucking christ Xavier, I know you hate me and all, but can you suck it up for two seconds?” she shrieks. “I've just lost a fiancé, a child, and my very own memories. So excuse me if I don't wanna get involved with your shenanigans.”
I reach out, catching her chin. “First off, you are not, and will never be an inconvenience,” I say calmly, ignoring the fact that she technically just cussed me out while accepting the truth about her memories. “And no. I do not hate you.”
Anastasia says nothing more as I resume driving. It is only when I stop the car at an amusement park and guide her to a nearby shed that I speak again.
“Wait here,” I tell her.
I return with a makeshift first aid kit, some alcohol and some gauze.
“Raise your shirt.”
Anastasia looks at me like I just asked for her nude.
I roll my eyes. “No, I'm not a pervert Anna. Raise. Your. Shirt.”
Reluctantly she obeys, wincing at the forming injury from her surgery. I get on one knee and carefully unwrap the bandage at her torso, peeling back to a single line of scar tissue.
She had started bleeding through.
I cork open the alcohol flask. “This is gonna hurt a bit.”
Anastasia hisses at the sting which gets drowned out by the number of excited kids and adults scattered about the fair.
“You do know what you're doing… right?”
“No,” I say, deadpan. “This is my first time.”
Anastasia visibly pales and I choke back a laugh when she realizes I'm messing with her.
“Jerk.”
Grabbing some cotton wool, my gaze meets hers. “Now, tell me what happened.”
Over the next few minutes, Anastasia fills me in on what she'd witnessed in Dante's office while I tend to her, and I feel my rage build alongside disgust.
“Wait—Your mother?” I say as I finish dressing her wound. “How didn't I know about this?”
“Well we've not exactly been buddies before now, Xavier.” She shrugs. “Same goes for Dante.”
Her gaze drops. “I just can't believe he'd go this far to hurt me.”
“You admit it then?” I say. “What I said about your memories.”
“Do I have a choice?” she snaps, dragging up her blouse. “This gnarly scar is proof enough.”
My jaw clenches.
“I don’t think it's gnarly, or hideous,” I say truthfully. “Especially not when it once held a life.”
Anastasia watches me like she's trying to decipher the meaning behind my words. I don't let her.
“Want some ice cream?” I ask, changing the subject.
She blinks. “What?”
“You know, the flavory ice-cold blob trapped in a cone or a tub—”
“I know what that is, Xavier. I just don't understand why you're being so nice to me all of a sudden.”
I don't answer, just walk off to the concession stand. Anastasia’s waiting at the bumper car arena by the time I get back.
“Call it a gesture of goodwill,” I say, handing her a cone. The mocha-flavored one, like she’d once said she loved.
“Except you don't ‘do’ goodwill, Xavier.” She straightens, turning to me. “I for one know that.”
“Who knows?” I say, taking a nip at my cream. “Maybe I'm changing.”
Anna’s eyes settle on the action a split second before she laughs. “Ha! Good one.” She bites into her gelato, moaning at the taste. “But thank you. Really.”
My blood rushes south in response.
“You don't think I'm capable of change?” I say, stepping closer.
“I don't ‘think’ it, I know it.” She doesn't cower back.
That's a first.
“Not even if I help you get back at my cheating manwhore of a brother?”
“Help?”
I circle round her slowly, like a predator sizing its prey.
“If I could have Dante, at your feet. Regretful.” I pause. “What would you say to that?”
“I would ask what it's in return for.”
“Becoming my wife. Mrs. Keys. For a year.”
My left arm wraps around her shoulders from behind, pulling her close.
“A year during which I get to fuck you. Wherever, whenever and however I see fit.”
Her mouth parts in shock, but my fingers only brace the curve of her waist, massaging it. “I get to own you. To dominate you. Body, spirit, and soul.”
Another piece of my Oreo-dipped dessert comes off onto my lips. I let it sit in for a second before dropping my mouth to her neck, kissing it. Anastasia sucks in a gasp.
“I get to mark you and ruin you—in the ways my brother never could.” My tongue flicks over her sensitive spot. Sucking, nibbling.
“Till the only oxygen you want to breathe is me. My name the last pr
ayer on your lips.”
Anastasia turns and stumbles back, flustered. My gaze doesn't stray from hers once.
“Do we have a deal, Dolcezza?”