Page 116 of Crossing the Line
Bob Hope Airport was a decidedly different experience than landing at the paparazzi hive of LAX. Xavier snuck her in the country eighteen hours early under the radar by landing the jet in Burbank. Xavier and Waverly said nothing to each other as they exited the plane and headed into the terminal.
It was a matter of minutes before Waverly was transferred from the cream leather of the jet to the backseat of a black SUV with tinted windows.
With only Gwendolyn and a handful of studio execs aware of her return, she would be avoiding her house and was supposed to go straight to Xavier’s for the night. It was the last place she wanted to be. At the moment, she’d rather walk down Sunset Boulevard wearing a sandwich board begging Ganim to take his best shot.
She sat against the door as far away from Xavier as possible and cursed her body for being so aware of his presence. She wanted to be immune to him. She wanted him to mean nothing to her. But he was everything, and that was terrifying. She’d welcomed him into her life, bared her soul and body to him, and had the naiveté to be surprised when he too turned on her.
She distracted herself from her mad when they pulled into the parking garage of an unfamiliar building. “Where are we?” she asked coolly.
“I decided it would be better to keep you at one of our other properties,” he answered without looking at her.
“Good idea. Then I’m not putting anyone else at risk,” she said flatly. She didn’t wait for him to get out and open her door.
They rode the elevator with the driver to the fourth floor of the apartment building where Xavier led her to the first door on the left. It was a nicely appointed condo with a good view of Dodger Stadium.
Xavier ignored her and focused on setting up his laptop and files on the dining room table. Waverly wandered around until she found the one and only bedroom in the unit. She shut and locked the door behind her and lay down on the bed to cry.
She must have fallen asleep because she woke with a raging headache to a knock at her door.
“Ready to go in twenty,” Xavier said from the other side of the door.
Shit. She groggily sat up and swiped a hand over her face.
“Waverly?”
She wondered how long it would take for her name on his lips to mean nothing to her.
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She wore fire engine red. The dress showed off miles of leg and had a strip of red translucent lace that wrapped around her midriff. Her hair was down and styled with loose waves. She’d applied her make-up as if she was going to war. And in a way she was. She was going into that club ready to make fans swoon, investors worship at her feet, and tell Les Ganim it was time to make his move. She was tired. Tired of being a target. Tired of being a doormat. Tired of being hungry for someone to love her.
From now on, there was only one person she needed to look out for, and that was herself. It was about damn time that she started.
Thirteen was L.A.’s club of the moment. Waverly wasn’t a club goer herself by any means, but even she knew that if you wanted to be seen, you showed up at Thirteen. They aimed for an eleven p.m. arrival through the downstairs kitchen to avoid being spotted outside. There wasn’t much they could do about exposure once she was inside. Everyone had a phone with a camera, and the Celeb Spottings upload app. There were no secrets in L.A.
Xavier had stared hard at her when she came out of the condo’s bedroom. But she’d ignored him, and he hadn’t tried to start a conversation in the SUV on the way there. It had been a chilly ride.
But once inside, Waverly turned it on. She grinned and waved her way through the club’s kitchen and was already moving to the beat as she climbed the back stairs to the VIP lounge.
The subterfuge must have worked because the place went dead silent for two whole seconds before erupting when she sauntered in through the service door. And for once, as the crowd closed in on her, she didn’t feel Xavier’s hand at her back. But tonight she didn’t need it. She was determined to never need it again.
She was spun from person to person in a dizzying dance. Investors, producers, executives—each wanted a piece of her. A promise for even more than what she’d already given. None of them could guess that her quiet acquiescence was over.God help the suit that got in her way first, she smiled to herself.
Waverly ignored the bottle service and ordered a club soda and settled on a white leather sofa. She talked the talk and laughed when appropriate but on the inside felt absolutely nothing. She took a moment to wonder if this was how her mother felt.
She avoided Xavier’s gaze at all times, pretended he was nothing more than furniture, and lavished everyone else with attention. Sipping from her glass, Waverly could feel Xavier’s frustration, feel the friction he put off, and she secretly relished it. She shouldn’t be the only one hurting.
She was leaning in for a particularly juicy piece of gossip from a producer when the sudden wave of dizziness caught her off guard.
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Xavier stood ten paces away from Waverly and watched every move she made. She was pretending he was invisible, and that was fine with him. He was a millimeter away from dragging her out of here. It was stupid for her to be here, like dangling a mouse in front of an alley cat. And her lack of concern about her own well-being or the others who could suffer from her ignorant decisions pissed him off. They’d have it out tonight. One way or another, she would hear him.
He watched her as Waverly brought a hand to her head. It looked like a casual move to the untrained observer, but Xavier felt the buzz in his gut. She looked pale to him. Off. Maybe it was exhaustion. She was certainly entitled to it having been on the move for three weeks straight.
Shit. He was going to have to talk to her.He approached her from behind and leaned over the couch.
“Everything okay?” Xavier asked in her ear.
