Page 40 of A Forbidden Arrangement
Chapter 19
Xander
The assistants looked twicewhen I walked into this room. It’s too close to the kitchen to be my usual office, but I wanted another look at her, wanted to keep her in sight for a little longer. I leave the door cracked, just enough to see through, enough to hear.
Marco comes in with the box, and her whole body shifts—shoulders tight, eyes wide, then softer, almost relieved.
My pen stills on the page.
Dahlia questions him, voice sharp at first, then lighter, almost happy. The air in my chest burns as she leans in closer than she ever leaned toward me. I shift forward as if a few extra inches would let me hear what she’s whispering to him.
Marco laughs, daring to grin at her, like they’re sharing some secret. She smiles back, small but real. She has never given me that. Not once.
The pen creaks in my hand, and I set it down before it breaks. My jaw aches from holding steady.
Marco telling her to “give me a chance” is the only thing saving his ass right now. She trails behind him until she’s out of sight.
I sit, papers spread in front of me, and try to bury myself in contracts, numbers, signatures. None of it holds. Every line turns into the memory of her whispering to Marco.
“Clear my schedule. Push everything out a week, or move it to video. All of it.”
My assistant’s gaze flashes up to mine and pauses a few beats before asking, “All, sir?”
“Yes.” I don’t repeat myself.
I’d bet my life savings that she asked him to get her out of here. Combined with catching her roaming last night…I’m not going anywhere.
I click open a file on my laptop, trying to force myself to concentrate, but my thoughts drag to the kitchen. The way she froze when I pulled the stool out, the way her fingers twisted together in her lap. I ignored her. Kept my eyes on the work, ordered her breakfast like she wasn’t there.
It was deliberate. She needs space. Time to settle into the cage without thrashing against the bars. That’s what I tell myself.
But the truth grinds at me. I wanted her eyes on me. Wanted her attention, sharp and whole, not drifting to anyone else. I wanted to feel her fight, her bite, even her hate.
My jaw tightens, and the mouse groans in my grip. Distance is a strategy. It has to be. If I don’t hold it, I’ll drag her in before she’s ready.
My phone sits dark on my desk. I shouldn’t touch it. I reach for it anyway, press the button, and her room fills the screen.
Marco’s already gone, and she’s already gone through the box as quick as a thief. Clothes hit the floor in a pile. Her back blocks the view of whatever she’s holding, and I’m about to go up there to check what it is when she stills, lifting something out slowly.
A small potted plant.
She cradles it like it’s worth more than anything else in the box, eyes on the leaves, her mouth softening, and body easing for the first time since I brought her here. I don’t understand it. Out of everything she could have pulled from that box, it’s that.
I lean back, jaw tight, watching her fingers trace the rim of the pot.
I tell myself she’ll stay. Because it’s safe here. Because I won’t let anyone touch her. That’s enough.
It isn’t.
I don’t want her bound to me by fear or by the walls I locked around her. I want her to choose it. To look at me the way she just looked at that plant.
My hands flex against the arms of the chair. The feed flickers, then steadies, and I let it play longer than I should.
Marco’s voice carries from the hall, low and carefree. He lingers when he should be back at his post.
I click my phone off and push back from the desk, knuckles cracking once against the arm of the chair.
Marco’s smirking at me from the doorway. He’s worked for me a long time, and he’s someone I trust with my life, but that doesn’t stop me from wanting to kill him right now.
