Page 46 of Burning Your Lies

“I’d like you to greet me at the front door. In just a towel. With your luscious locks leaving droplets of water that trail down your body.” I close my eyes and smile at the image. “Nothing more delicious than watching you come out of the shower with your hair wet and wavy.” I lean in closer. “Actually, I can think ofonething more delicious.” I jump when Xavier’s baritone voice carries across the room.

“Please do share with us all.” His sharp look penetrates through me. “This conversation is not appropriate for the office, nor is it related to your outstanding work.”

Huxley’s smile fades. “I shall leave you to your work.”

As soon as he disappears into the lifts, I turn my unimpressed stare to the devil himself. “That was a pathetic move, Xavier.”

He’s back to studying his paperwork. When he speaks, he sounds utterly bored. “What move would that be, Savannah?”

“Ifthatgot you riled up, you should hear what I say while he fucks me. Or better yet, if only you knew the things we did in his office. You know, the one you share a wall with.” I smirk as he gives me his undivided attention. I slap my forehead. “What am I talking about? Of course you know all about all that. I mean,” I tilt my head, “you’ve got recordings of me doing that in that prison I once called home. You know, the one I fucked him in once you left me feeling …unsatisfied.”

He grips his pen tighter as he stares at me. “Unsatisfied?” he echoes. “You weren’t saying that when your eyes rolled back so hard you couldn’t form a coherent word.”

I can’t help but laugh at him. “That’s almost as fictitious as Sara running away from home.” I gasp and cover my mouth. “Oops. I’m not supposed to know about her, am I? My bad,” I say with fake sincerity.

My work day is almost over and my stomach rumbles in anticipation of the feast Huxley has cooked up at home. “I’ll store the signed contracts in the filing room and then head out. Unless there’s anything else?”

Xavier is shutting his laptop closed and stands up. “I’ve been dwelling on your earlier statement. The one about Sara? Would you like to see where I killed her?”

A chill runs down my spine at his calm tone. Unease settles in the pit of my stomach.What if this is a ruse to get me alone with him? What if he kills me?“Huxley is waiting for me.”

He shrugs. “Send a text to say you’re going to be another hour.” He checks his watch. “We should be back by then.”

I weigh the pros and cons, but I already know my decision. I quickly send a message to Huxley and gather my belongings. I follow him to the basement and climb into the passenger seat of his car.

We ride in silence through the streets of London. This late into the evening the roads carry few cars; most people are already in the comfort of their homes after a long day. And there was me; driving into the unknown with a psychopath. Xavier hums quietly to the tunes playing through the speakers. Wherever we are going is familiar to him because he navigates the roads as if it’s muscle memory.

He parks onto a driveway of a large house that doesn’t have a single light on. He doesn’t wait for me, getting out of the car and unlocking the front door.

I take a deep breath and shake off my nerves.You’ve got this.I climb out of the car and follow him inside. The lights flick on and I’m surprise at how clean the haunted house is. The sound of myheels echoes against the dark wooden floors. I take in the dark walls and neutral furnishing. Every room we walk through is immaculately, borderline obsessively, clean. The air feels clean, despite all the windows and doors being closed. When we stop in the living room, my feet are propelled towards the row of frames on the mantle.Even the frames are dust-free.

I pick the picture up and inspect the people. I recognise the young boy immediately. The grey-blue eyes are filled with so much life and joy. His smile is one of ease and comfort. The arm around him is loose. The older man’s face doesn’t hold as much emotion as a young Xavier. His eyes are squinted as if he’s being blinded by the sun. His lips are curled into a smile, but it doesn’t radiate as much as his son’s.

Still holding the picture, I turn to Xavier. “This is your family home?”

He stands in the middle of the room with a solemn expression. “Xavier Rivers was the first-born, and only, son of Elijah and Elizabeth Rivers. His father was a diamond maker, and his mother a realtor. It was a normal life until his mother’s affair was exposed. The woman pleaded with her son to keep the affair a secret, but he could not tolerate her lies and betrayal to the greatest man to have ever existed.” He takes the frame from my hand and places it back exactly where it was. Without saying a word, he walks through the house.

I follow behind him. “What did you do to her?”

He opens a door and leads us into a garage. His steps are slow until he stops. “I was standing right here as she spewed more hateful lies about him. She said he was abusive. She told me he attempted to take my life.” The look on his face makes it clear he doesn’t believe a word of it.

But the tale Henry told Huxley and Jordan backed her claims. Seeking refuge from abuse, she sought comfort in another man’s arms. Her life was the cost. “How do you know it was lies?”

His cold eyes land on me. “He was not abusive. He loved her, even she was useless around the house. She didn’t know how to keep order in the home. She was too busy frolicking with another man. And my father loved me. He protected me. Even when he came home and saw the bloody shovel and the blood seeping out of her. Tell me, Savannah. Does an abusive man cry like arepulsive, patheticmess?” It’s the first time I’ve seen something other than adoration or sadness in him when speaking about his father. As Xavier recalls the memory, he looks genuinely disgusted at his father crying for his mother.

“Perhaps he was disappointed that he couldn’t be the one to do it himself. I mean, isn’t that why you cried when we went to claim Emery’s body?”

Xavier ignores my question. “My father was adamant to teach me actions have consequences. He made me do most of the legwork, but it was worth it because she became a beautiful diamond. You should know. You wore her around your neck.”

I feel sick at the reminder. There is no part of him that feels remorse.How could he when he can’t feel anything?“What does this have to do with Sara?”

He straightens his tie and walks past me and back into the house the way we came. “Sara was a sad soul,” he explains as we climb up the stairs. “I met her when we were just seventeen. Poor girl had a life of misery at home, and I had the power to make it stop. I could love her until she knew nothing else. I was going tosaveher. Except she was just like my mother. She was acheat.”

We stand in a bedroom. It’s hard to tell whose room this is. The wooden bed and draws match the floor. The bed, though made, shows no signs of use.

“This room used to have carpet, but after that day we replaced it with wood.” He grins at me. “So much easier to clean.” There’s a look in his eyes that makes it hard to breathe.

“What did you do to her?”

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