Page 62 of Xavier

That thought brings a small smile to my face.

As crazy as I think his life is or has been, I don’t think he is an assassin. He has comforted me many times. He’s wrapped me up in his arms like a cocoon, sheltering me from the crazy world around me.

No, he’s definitely not an assassin.

“What is it?” I finally ask, unable to keep my curiosity at bay.

“Eat first.” He demands, leaving no room for discussion in his tone.

We make our plates and sit down at the table.

It’s silent, almost too quiet. It makes the time drag on.

After a few bites, he breaks the silence and asks, “So, how did you go from Scarlett Island to a profiler for the FBI?”

For a moment, I freeze before remembering I told him a little about my past a couple of days ago.

“I wanted to get away from the island for college, so I went to George Washington University and, after graduating, I moved into a tiny apartment in DC. I gave every recruiter I met my resume and was contacted by someone in the FBI about becoming a profiler.”

His eyes widen. “Impressive.”

“I did the six-month training and worked there for two years, but I hated almost every minute of my life. I was given the worst cases that always seemed to follow me home.”

They were all serial killers, but the longer I worked there, the more twisted the crimes were.

I didn’t feel safe. I couldn’t sleep. I was constantly sick.

Just thinking about my time working for the FBI turns my stomach.

Xavier seems to see the change in me because he changes the subject. “If you could vacation anywhere in the world, where would it be?”

“What?”

“I said, if you could vacation anywhere in the world, where would it be?”

My head feels foggy, like I can’t focus on my thoughts. “I don’t know. Where would you go on vacation?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. He smiles and says, “Home.”

I frown. “That’s not a vacation.”

He shrugs. “It’s a staycation. After being gone for so long, staying home sounds great.”

I couldn’t stand him before, but the more we talk, the more I find out about him, the more I’m eager to continue getting to know him.

He interrupts my thoughts. “So? What’s your answer?”

“I would love to spend a month in Europe. Visit all the touristy sights in London, Rome, and Greece before spending a romantic weekend in Paris gazing at the Eiffel tower.”

“That’s a lot of traveling for a month.” His shocked expression morphs into something I’ve never seen.

It’s almost like he’s picturing the vacation I just described and wants no part of it. Pain clenches at my heart, but it’s not like I’ve ever pictured my dream vacation with Xavier.

At least not until this week.

Xavier and getting out of this house are the only things I’ve been able to think about.

I shrug. “Maybe, but that’s why it would be a month long to give me time to adjust to the time change and travel days.”

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