Page 78 of The Keeper

“You do, Victoria. Let me give you more, please.”

Lines are being crossed.

I could fall for him. I could fall so hard I’d never recover.

The screw tightened and tightened and tightened.

It’s too much, too fast. I feel too much. I said too much.

I pulled away from him so forcefully we both gasped.

“I can’t. We can’t.”

“We can try.”

“No.”

He exhaled in frustration. “Victoria.”

Snap.

“Enough,” I shouted. “You were supposed to be a one night stand. That’s all. I fucked you to distract myself from having to deal with…with…” I threw my arms up “…all of this. We aren’t anything. You’re a casual fling. Nothing more. You have to go. Now. Please, Xavier.”

Confusion and hurt flashed across his features. He stared at me, almost disoriented. Then, as though waking from a nightmare, his protective outer shell began to rebuild itself. His eyes dulled, his facial expression hardened.

“Okay,” he responded, his tone flat and dismissive.

Any traces of the impassioned weekend we’d spent together disappeared the moment he walked out the front door without so much as a backwards glance. It slammed shut, filling the empty hallway with a hollow crack. I’d gotten what I wanted.

And it destroyed me.

Victoria

7:42pm Party express, now boardinggggggg

I sighed, tossing my phone on the bed. Killian’s texts were like DEFCON alerts. The more letters he left trailing at the end, the more impatient or excited he was for something to happen. Judging by the amount of ‘g’s’, he was bursting at the seams.

Admittedly, I was excited too. Legends quarterback Noah Tate’s annual fundraiser started in less than an hour. Every year he held it at a different venue, and this year it was at a trendy new restaurant and bar called The Roof.

I dabbed some gloss to my lips and did one last check in the mirror. Black lace dress. Red heels. Hair loose and wavy. You clean up ok, Chase. For a horrible person.

By the time I got down to the lobby of my building, Killian was waiting, tapping his foot. “The queen emerges,” he proclaimed, engulfing me in a tight hug. “You are stunning. Stun-ing.”

“Good to know you received your payment for compliments this week.”

“Baby girl,” he draped an arm over my shoulders, “my compliments are always free of charge. Let’s go.”

He led me out to the waiting limo, where Maxim was already seated with a glass of champagne.

“Beautiful girl on approach.” He let out a low whistle and handed me a glass. “Welcome home.”

“Good to be back.”

We toasted as the car pulled into Manhattan traffic. I’d been home from England for a few days but this was our first night out together. I’d thrown myself into working to keep my mind off what happened with Xavier. I felt tremendous guilt for treating him like shit.

My anxiety hasn’t reared its ugly head like that in years. I should reach out to him.

But every time I wanted to text him, I chickened out. What could I possibly say? I called him a casual fling and kicked him out of my rental house. Not my best moment.

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