Chapter 42
They went out a couple of times the following week. Proper dates. Except that unlike the dates he was accustomed to, he couldn't do anything. Or rather, he wouldn't allow her to do anything for him, but if he didn't come clean and tell her, he was going to make himself ill.
Isabel Laronde was one of the sexiest girls he had ever met, and the more he got to know her, the more he started to fall for her. Each time, whether they came back to hers, or to his, they would make out, and oh, boy was it tough on his balls, to resist her.
It had been weighing on his mind, the things he needed to say to her, and this evening, as she lay on her side in his arms, her legs entwined in his, her face resting along his chest, he was waiting for a suitable moment. They’d made out, nothing more, both fully clothed, just lying, and talking.
“You know that time I asked you about the reports?
“For Hennessy?”
“And the others, after? The bar charts I wasn't sure about?”
“The 3D ones?” she asked, her fingers moving over the ridges of his stomach. He had to keep an eye on that roving hand of hers. It wasn't fair, he knew that. He'd seen her, had touched and explored her, and yet he hadn't allowed her the same. Hadn't even let her see him naked, knowing that the day he did, he'd be unable to walk away.
“Yes, those.” He cleared his throat. “I have a confession to make.”
“You're a walking confessional box, Stone,” she still called him that, sometimes, a reminder of where they had come from.
“I kind of knew how to do those charts.”
Her fingers settled just above his navel. “You did?”
Tell her now. Tell her.
“Yeah.”
“Why did you say you didn't know?” She propped herself up on her elbow, her dark eyes staring intently into his, her voice softly questioning.
“Because, at that time,” he replied, clearing his throat again. “I didn't know how to get close to you, and you hated me back then.” The memories of their earlier days rewound and played in front of him. He averted her gaze and focussed on her hair.
“I wasn’t charmed by you,” she murmured, tracing her finger along the outline of his lips.
“You weren’t easy to charm.”
“I was allergic to it,” she giggled.
“You had reason to be.” He reached out and grabbed a handful of her soft hair, rubbed his thumb around the silky tresses. “So I figured that if I asked you how to do them … it would give you the opportunity to show me. And it would give me the opportunity to get close to you.”
“Crafty,” she said, reprimanding him with a gentle pinch to his lower lip.
“Some girls can be won over by champagne and diamonds, but you …” he rolled his eyes, earning a giggle from her. “You were hard work, Laronde.”
“Any more lies I should know about?”
Now was his chance. He could feel his heart pounding in his throat. “It wasn’t a lie, it was an excuse to see you.”
“And you would have needed an excuse, because I doubt that I would have wanted anything to do with you in the early days.”
“My point exactly. I had to resort to underhanded tactics.”
“I'd seen you with Savannah’s cousin, as well. Everything I'd heard about you, you lived out.”
“Yeah. You had good reason to be wary.”
“I know I did.”
“I considered myself a stud,” he said, cringing at the reminder.
“Savannah’s cousin fell for it, and I was so determined not to. By the way, what happened with her that night?” she asked, “You can tell me, and I promise not to judge.”
“What happened in Kawaya, stays in Kawaya.”
“Did you sleep with her?”
That's what she thought?
“Would you hate me if I did?” He was curious to see how deep her impressions of him went.
“Why would you care what I thought?” she replied, the playfulness slipping from her voice.
“I care what you think now and I care what you would have thought then.” He recalled that night, when he'd given in, and was bored, and Kay was there. And how shocked he'd been when Tobias and Izzy walked in on them.
“What happened in Kawaya, stays in Kawaya,” she reminded him, not giving him an answer.
“I wasn't sure if you saw,” he said, sliding his fingers out of her hair, and cupping her face.
“I saw.”
“We didn't do anything. Tobias turned up and I didn't want to piss him off.”
“Would you have done something if we hadn't interrupted you?”
Now she had him. “I was thinking, maybe I could have?”
She raised an eyebrow. “You would have gone all the way with her that night? And you barely knew her? And her being Savannah's cousin, and it being the night before your brother's wedding?”
That made him sound like a pig.
He swallowed. “I'm not sure. Probably.”
“Probably?”
“I was playing it by ear, and Kay seemed to want to go along.”
“She did?”
“She didn’t hide the fact that she liked me.”
“I wasn't hiding it,” she said, pinching his nose gently. “I really didn't like you.”
“It took her three seconds to figure out what it’s taken you four months to.”
“I’m more discerning.”
“You didn’t even like me a tiny bit?”
“Not even a tiny, tiny bit.”
“So you must have thought I was a real asshole, when you saw me and her kissing?”
“I thought it was so typical of you. Tell me what happened next.”
“By the time Tobias had finished with me, Kay was nowhere to be found. And for the rest of the time there, she ignored me. She didn't speak to me at all, she barely even looked at me. It was the same when I saw her a few weeks back.”
“You saw her?”
“At The Oasis, she was leaving, and I was going in.” He started at her, searching her face for signs of distrust, unease.
“And?”
“And she was not very friendly.”
“Did you think she would be after the way you treated her?”
“What did I do?” he asked, shocked.
“What you did, making out with her, and then dropping her like a hot stone, and then not speaking to her, was despicable.”
He considered it. “I suppose it was.”
“No, it was.”
And he'd been under the impression she'd liked him.
“Just because a girl pursues a guy, doesn't mean she’s easy. It also doesn't mean she’s going to be okay when you drop her like dirt.”
“That's why I want to take my time getting to know you.” He cupped the back of her neck and tried to move her face towards his, his lips eager for another one of her kisses. But she kept her head back.
“I thought you were cheating, when I first saw you. Cara had told me you were already going out with that actress.”
“I don't cheat. I never have.”
“But that night?”
“We had split up. The actress had dumped me. That's why she wasn't at the wedding.”
“She dumped you?”
He nodded. “Over the phone. We rowed about a casting she was going to. The producer wanted to interview her in the hot tub, in her bikini.”
Izzy screwed her face up, looking disgusted. “Is he one of those pervs embroiled in that scandal?”
“I don't know, but one of the films she was due to start shooting in got delayed, because that producer was a perv.”
“Sick.”
“Yes, sick. She didn't see it as that, though. She seemed to think it was something that was normal, and accepted it. She believed she had to go along with it, in order to get the parts.”
“Poor girl.”
“She came to see me.”
“When?”
“Last month, she turned up on my doorstep in tears.”
Izzy fell silent.
“We weren't together then,” he said quickly.
“And? She turned up and?”
He tried to remember, tried to think back. “She wanted comfort.”
Her eyes bore into him, and he thanked his lucky stars he hadn't given in. Hadn't let Gisele tempt him into doing something. Another lie would have been too much to keep from Izzy. “But I told her no.”
“You told her no?”
“Don't you believe me?” Because he needed her to.
“I believe you,” she replied, slowly. “You've been living the life of a monk, or trying to show me that you have.” Her voice turned playful, provocative. “God knows I've wanted to see your goods, Stone.”
He turned his head away, grinning at the ceiling. “You won't be able to handle it, Laronde.”
“No?” she asked, a challenge implicit in that one word answer.
“No.” Jeez. Even having a normal conversation was filled with so much innuendo it was giving him a hard-on. The anticipation, the slow-burn of them getting to know one another, was so much sexier than a quickie with a girl he barely knew.
“Why don’t you let me see,” she asked, moving her hand down, trying to slide it into his lounge pants.
He placed his hand over hers, halting her, as he’d had to so many times before, wondering why he couldn't come clean and say what he needed to. Heck, he'd just tried to initiate the conversation with the bar charts and his little white lie, and here they were moments later with her hand trying to snake into his pants.
On any given day and moment, if the slate was clean, and his conscience cleaner, they'd be having full-on dirty, delicious, mind-numbing sex.
But he could not go there yet.
“Why are you being so coy,” she asked, settling her hand on his chest again. A safer zone. “It's not like this is your first time.” Her voice was hard-to-resist, and downright sexy, and he felt a twitch in his pants.
“Just,” he said, because he couldn’t tell her the truth. “I want to get to know you properly.”
She leaned over and kissed him then. Her soft lips, sweet and tender, brushing against his. “Awww, that is so sweet.”
Being in close proximity to her clouded his thoughts. Lying like this on the bed was not the way to have that conversation. It had to be sitting down. Talking. In a position that wasn't conducive to touching, or kissing, or fondling.
Somewhere like in a church would do it.
“Well, since you're not going to let me strip you naked and ride you,” she said, very, very slowly, so that each word dropped into his brain and lingered there, “I should get home. I have to finish off something for the online course guy. He's dropped it on me last minute, like he usually does.” She slipped off the bed and smoothed down her clothes.
Focus on the online course guy, he told himself. Not on her riding you naked.
He swallowed, slowly rising to standing, both his body and his manhood.
“Do you need to do his work? You've got so many other jobs going on now.”
“Only for a few months,” she said. “I've told him, only until Easter. Cara wants to go away to Cancun next month, a bunch of us friends are thinking about it, and I’ve managed to save up a good chunk.”
His ears pricked up. “You're going to Cancun? Is that for spring break?” He'd heard all sorts of stories about students on spring break.
“Not for spring break. Earlier. Cara wants to go with a couple of our friends. I'm not so keen, but I'd like to get away. I might go home and see my family.”
“What about my offer to go to The Hamptons? It still stands, and you can ride me naked there, Laronde.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Now there’s an offer I can’t resist.”
Because it was her, because he could never be too careful, he wasn’t sure if she was joking or being serious.
“I don’t want to rush anything with you,” he said, keeping his distance, before she came up to him and tempted him with her touch. “I think it’s nicer to get to know one another slowly.” For a change.
“I’ll think about it,” she promised, walking up to him.
“You've got to go home for online course guy, remember,” he told her, as her hands skirted around his waist, and she pressed herself against him, soft, and sweet-smelling, and hard-to-resist. And she was giving him seriously blue balls each time he saw her.
“Hold that thought, Stone,” she said, leaning up to kiss him, and taking all of his resolve with her.
~ ~ ~
“And to think this was the girl who swore that Xavier Stone was the biggest of all the assholes she’d ever met.”
Izzy twisted off the top to the liquid eyeliner pen. “People change,” she said, drawing a thin line close to her upper eyelashes.
“I’m not sure if he changed or you did.”
Izzy remained silent. She couldn’t answer that question herself. She’d often wondered if she’d been the one who had had preconceived ideas about Xavier, or whether they had both changed slowly, over time.
“Where's he taking you tonight?”
“To NYB, The burger bar.” He’d told her he wanted to talk.
“That loud noisy burger place that your kid Jacob likes?” Cara made a face. “That's not very romantic.”
“We don't want cheesy romance.”
“You guys really know how to do romance, don't you? Kids burger place. Next you’ll be telling me Jacob’s coming along.”
“No.” She grinned at Cara’s reflection in the mirror. They hadn’t told anyone that they were an item. There had been no need to. “We're thinking of going away,” she announced, “around the same time you go to Cancun.”
“You’re dropping me for him?”
“Do you blame me?”
“Not one bit!” Cara cried in glee. “He’s taking you away to his private island? In his private jet?”
“We’re talking about going to The Hamptons. His family has a place there, and he doesn’t have a private jet.”
“Oh, sweeeet!”
She found herself looking forward to it. A few days in the Hamptons, just him and her.
“You'll come back barely able to walk,” said Cara, grinning. “Don’t forget your Guide to the Kama Sutra.”
“I won’t,” she replied, giving her friend a naughty wink. Cara peered at her closely. “He's had an effect. Definitely had an effect on you.”
She rubbed blush into her cheeks “No, he hasn’t.”
“Listen to yourself.”
“I was joking.”
“You start going out with Xavier Stone, and you end up sounding like a hussy gagging for sex.”
“That's what you think.” She put on her barely there nude lipstick and grabbed her bag, before Cara started to ask more personal questions. And Izzy wasn't keen to tell her everything.
“He's waiting outside,” she said, answering her cell phone on the first ring. “See you later!”
She rushed out to find him waiting in the car.
He leaned forward for a kiss. “I’ve just put my lipstick on,” she told him, staring at his lips and holding back. “Yes. I made an effort for you,” she said, in a tone what was intended to sound dismissive.
“You always look good, even without makeup.”
“You charmer.”
“I’m being honest.”
“I’ll kiss you properly, later,” she promised. At least the BMW was bigger than the Ferrari, and there was more room to move around. Their kissing was more intense, more passionate, more deep. But it wasn't enough.
She was eager to hear what he wanted to talk about, but soon after they arrived at NYB, the place soon became busier. It seemed like someone’s birthday party, and the noise levels were crazy. Xavier seemed to be on edge.
“What is it?” she asked. Maybe, the reason he wasn't saying anything was because something was in the way.
Maybe it was a question of her having to read between the lines.
“Nothing,” he replied. “How was your day?”
The evening was over too soon, and before she knew it, they were driving back. But, instead of taking her back to his place, as she had been looking forward to, Xavier announced that he had a day of meetings planned, and that he needed to get an early night.
They were parked outside her apartment by 11.
So much for wearing the new crotchless panties she'd been hoping to surprise him with.
“Is that all you wanted to talk about, the weekend at the Hamptons?” she asked, because she had this odd feeling it couldn’t have only been that.
“Yes, and no.”
Yes and no? Now they were getting somewhere.
“Ever feel like a fake?” he asked, turning to face her. This time he had parked under a street light, and they could better make out one another's faces.
“No, never. Why? Do you?”
“Sometimes.”
“Is there something you want to tell me?” she asked, taking his hand.
“It’s always so freaky, the way you can read my mind.”
“Something you feel uncomfortable about?” she ventured a guess.
“Yeah.”
“Something you need to get off your chest?”
“Yeah.”
“So why can't you just come out and say it? We're close enough now that I could tell you anything, and I'd hope you would feel the same way.”
“I feel I can tell you anything,” he said, clearing his throat.
She sat, stroking the palm of his hand, resting the back of it on her thigh, waiting for him to tell her.
“Is it Tobias?” she asked, when he still hadn't said anything.
“Huh?” He seemed distracted. “That's part of it.”
“Are you still worried about the Hennessy contract?”
“I wouldn't say I was worried. I'm still thinking about it.”
He had a lot on his mind, she understood. After all, she was always preoccupied with her studies, and the other little jobs. He had the weight of his businesses, the disagreement with Tobias, and the new contract to juggle. She especially sensed that the friction between him and his brother might be a big part of it.
She pressed down on his palm. “Family and work can be the worst combinations,” she said, trying to second guess him.
“Have you thought any more about when you could go away? I mean, if you still want to come to The Hamptons.”
“Maybe around the end of February,” she replied. She’d go sooner, if she could, but college was full on.
“End of Feb,” he said.
“It will be here sooner than we know it,” she told him. For some reason, he wouldn’t let her touch him and it was making her even crazier for him.
Maybe she needed to let him know the thing he had once been curious about. She sat back, and contemplated telling him. He’d dropped so many hints along the way, and she never gave up the name, but if they were starting something new, she wanted to get the dirt off her chest.
“That guy, the one I worked for in the summer. The creep…”
He sat up, even under the faint light of the streetlamps she could tell his face was somber.
“I want to tell you, because I don't want it to be a thing between us, getting in the way.”
“Go on,”
And then she told him how it started, how that first time she’d caught her former employer staring down the front of her blouse while she had been on her hands and knees picking up pasta shapes from the floor.
“But I wasn’t sure,” she said, at the end.
“You weren’t sure?”
“It’s hard to explain. It’s like I didn’t want it to be true. I thought maybe I was imagining it. So I tried to push the thought away.”
“Even though he’d been staring down your blouse?” Something in his tone told her he was already pissed.
“Yes. Like I said, you don’t want it to be true, so you give the guy the benefit of the doubt. But then it happened again, a few weeks later.” And she told him about that second occasion when her employer’s wife was away and the children were playing in their play room, and she was tidying up, and he walked by, having looked like he'd just stepped out of the shower. He had been toweling himself dry and was completely naked, his belly hanging out like an enlarged balloon.
“Son of a bitch,” hissed Xavier. “What did he say?”
“He said, 'Ah, Isabel, I didn't see you there,' and he stood there, facing me, showing me everything.”
“What did you do?”
“I turned around, looked the other way and I told him to leave.”
It hadn’t registered until much later that it was late afternoon, and the master bedroom was at the opposite end of the apartment. He had apologized, saying something about the heat being too much, but his sudden shocking nude appearance had been like a punch to her gut. She couldn't breathe, or think, or do anything until long after he had left. She'd rushed to the door, and a jammed herself against it, only coming out when the children shouted out for her.
“He had a hard-on,” she said, the memory filling her mind with disgust.
“Did you tell anyone?”
“It took me a few days to tell Cara.”
“And that was when you left?”
“No. Not then.” Telling him, hearing herself explain, it sounded ludicrous that she had stayed on, even then.
“I left a few weeks later. We came back from the park and the children had been playing in the sand pit, so their clothes were sprinkled with sand. I showered them, and took their dirty clothes to the laundry room and again, it was at a time when Cassia, his wife, was away. And ...” She paused, uneasy with having to dredge up that memory again.
“And what?”
“And I was putting the clothes into the machine, so I didn't hear him walk in. But he came up behind me and grabbed my breast, and pressed himself into me.”
“The fucker.”
“And I froze, because... because you just do, I suppose. You can't believe this is happening, and I froze for a few seconds. And then his hand reached down and grabbed me between my legs. And then I told him to fuck off, but he didn't. He had me pinned against the washing machine in front and him behind. I kind of poked him in the ribs with my elbow, and he moved away. I turned around, but he came for me again, reaching out to touch me. And I lost it. I fought back. Kneed him in his balls, the moment his hand reached for my chest. He was a strong man, 6 ft. something, and he towered over me, and I was afraid that in that laundry room he could have done anything, and I might not have been able to defend myself. So I kicked him hard, and rushed out. I grabbed my bag, and I ran out of the house, feeling guilty that I hadn't even been able to say bye to the children.”
“The fucking scumbag,” he raged. Then, leaning forward and cupping her face, he said, “Hey,” and thumbed her chin. “He did all that to you, and you’re worried you didn’t say goodbye to his kids?”
“They’re just kids. They don’t know why I left. They just know I left without a word.”
“They don’t know what their fucking father did.”
Xavier pressed his forehead against hers, holding her wrist in the palm of his hand. “I wish I could do something to make it better,” he said, his words caressing her soul, the way his fingers caressed her wrist.
“I am over that. I’ve moved on, and now you know.”
“Thank you for telling me.”
“You might know him, I think.”
“I might know him?”
Was she imagining it? His jaw clenched, and a tiny muscle along the side of it twitched again. “He knows someone who was at Tobias’s wedding.”
“The fucker was at the wedding?”
“Not him,” she said. Xavier wasn’t listening. “A friend of his.”
“Who?”
She exhaled slowly. “That day when Jacob and I were going to the waterfall, and I dragged you along. That guy I was talking to, someone Rothschild, I think.”
“Oliver Rothschild?” he growled.
“He’s a friend of the creep’s, and he recognized me at the wedding, and he thought I still worked for them.”
“Who’s the creep, Izzy?”
The way he said it made her think twice about telling him. “You’re not going to do anything silly, are you? Because that’s not why I’m telling you.”
“I’m not going to do anything.”
“Gideon Shoemoney.” The words fell out. “I don’t know if you actually know h—”
“Gideon Fucking Shoemoney?”
Her heart missed a beat. Shit. Xavier did know him.
“Jeez.” His voice tensed, and he rubbed his forehead.
“Is he a friend of yours?”
“He’s no fucking friend of mine.”
“Why are you so angry then?”
He leaned forward and cupped her cheek then. “Because I hate what he did you.” He seemed miles away. “Rothschild and Shoemoney belong to the same mastermind group that Tobias belongs to. I’ve been a few times.”
“Mastermind group?”
“Don’t ask. Those assholes all mix in the same circles.”
“They can’t all be assholes.”
But Xavier didn’t seem to have heard her. “I hate that he did that to you. And I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize for anything.”
“I’m sorry on behalf of all those assholes who think this stuff is okay. I’m not one of those assholes.”
She wondered why he’d needed to make that point. “I know, Xavier. I know you’re not.”
“But you did think I was, at the beginning, didn’t you?”
She had to think back, because the guy she had first met was so different to the guy who now sat in the car with her and whose kisses made her toes curl. She’d had him down for being a player, a womanizing jerk who thought women were nothing but sexual objects to be used and abused.
How wrong she had been.
They sat in the car, holding hands, saying nothing. Just like last time, when she had told him about her dad, telling him about Shoemoney had lifted a weight. She felt lighter, almost freer.
“Want me to come in with you?” he asked.
She sighed. “You have a meeting tomorrow, remember.” And somehow, talking about that incident had made her turn somber.
“Don’t worry about the meeting. I want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine. I’ve got you,” she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. “And I need to sleep, and you do, too.”
“You’re right,” he said, tracing along her cheek with his finger.
“Goodnight.”