Page 40 of Pervade London
He mulled over his answer. “Think of them as the dark matter of power. And like dark matter you know it’s there, there’s just no evidence to prove it.”
My thoughts scrambled to catch up.
“Are they politicians?”
He gave me a sad, sweet smile. “I wanted to be free of it all for a while. Clear my mind. But then…I met you.”
Closing the gap between us and leaning into his chest, I wrapped my arms around his waist. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“I wasn’t expecting to fall in love.”
“You make it sound like a problem.”
He pressed his lips to my forehead. We stayed locked in an embrace for several minutes. This…this was home. He was everything to me and falling in love with Xander had been so easy.
I would fight the whole world to keep us together.
Our first date where he’d kept me at a distance, acting elusive, now made sense.
“You understand me like no one else,” he said softly.
Crushing my cheek to his chest, I said, “And you get me.”
His rare intellect and my musical gift had drawn us together.
“I need you to pack a bag, Em,” he said softly.
All this time Xander had been running from someone.
“I don’t want it to end,” he whispered.
I looked up at him. “What?”
“Us.”
Would his fear cause him to revert back to that closed-off, secretive man whose trust I’d worked so hard to gain?
I broke the quiet. “How dangerous is James?”
A wave of emotion flashed over Xander’s face.
“He seems reasonable.” I recalled the man’s suave demeanor.
Xander looked away.
Ibrushed Xander’s hand away.
He was trying to comfort me. I was too unnerved to let him. I didn’t want to be in a room at The Biltmore Hotel. I wanted to be home.
At 2:00 A.M. I should be getting a good night’s sleep. I should be excited for my audition tomorrow—the one that could get me into one of the most prestigious orchestras in the world. But attending that event was uncertain now.
Xander sat on the edge of the bed and watched me pace.
We’d left our Baker Street flat several hours ago. Our suitcases were in the corner. Clothes spilled out from mine where I’d rummaged around for my toiletry bag in a fit of panic. We were on the run from some unseen force and my frustration with Xander hadn’t lifted. I refused to unpack.
Denial was a safer place.
Our hotel room was lovely with its plush carpeting, king-sized bed and marble tiled bathroom, but it felt like a prison.
