Page 32 of The Loathing

“Amora,” my father snaps me out of my hypnotic state and I finally manage to pull my eyes from Titus. “This is Titus,” his tone is curt, and I give a gentle nod, and roll my shoulders back so I’m standing tall.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I keep my tone sharp, my head held high as I move my eyes from my father and back to Titus.

“The pleasure is all mine, Amora,” Titus’ low voice rumbles, making my skin erupt in goosebumps and my lips part slightly, his eyes roam up and down my body and I don’t miss the small smile that pulls at his lips.

“Okay, Amora, you’re excused…” my father turns to face me, and his eyes find mine, he nods tightly and I say nothing else. Turning I walk out of the library and close the door behind me. Resting against the cool surface of the wooden door, my head falls back gently, and I rest it. My eyes flit from side to side as my mind and heart race at a million miles per hour.

Why did he have to hire an Adonis god?

I internally groan and head for my bedroom.

CHAPTER TWELVE

TITUS

I am tired.

I slept on the plane, but it didn’t feel enough. I feel like my world has been turned on its axis, the time zones already hurting my brain. I walk into the arrivals lounge and see a crowd of bored and unpleased strangers holding up signs. I yawn, scrubbing my hand down my face as I scan them until I see a sign that has my name scribbled in black marker. I drag my case along behind me, my eyes landing on who I am assuming is Xavier.

His dirty blonde hair is styled and tidy, flecks of grey shimmer out under the bright lights, he has a full beard, mixed with ginger and grey. He looks late fifties, early sixties if I was to put an age on him. My eyes finally meet his and I notice the difference in them. One is crystal blue, like the colour of the tropic oceans you see on vacation brochures, the other is darkest of browns and has a scar running from above his eyebrow down to his cheek. He is dressed in a dark grey suit and a crisp, white shirt with no crinkles showing at all.

“Xavier,” I hold my hand out to shake his, but he looks down at it and scoffs, shaking his head from side to side.

“We don’t need to do pleasantries Titty, let’s just get home.”

Titty!?

I snort, shaking my head from side to side. He is already walking off when I shrug my backpack up and throw my duffle bag over my shoulder while I drag my large and heavy suitcase.

“Thanks for the help, you ass.” I grit, reluctantly following him.

We move to an underground parking garage when I see him unlock a red Porsche and I stand, my eyes wide.

“Um,” I roll my lips, “I don’t think all my luggage will fit.”

“Who said you’re coming with me?” Xavier spins and raises one of his brows.

“How am I getting to yours then?”

“Well, if you would have actually let me explain instead of jumping up my arse with your assumptions, you would have known that I have sorted you your own car.” He reaches into his pocket and throws me a Jeep key and I smile.

“Thought you would be comfortable driving something you’re used to…” he winks, opening the door and sliding into the Porsche Carrera 911.

A light chuckle leaves me as I unlock the black Jeep SUV next to him and load it up.

I climb in the righthand side of the vehicle and suddenly a wave of panic swarms me. I look over at Xavier who opens his window, and I open mine.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t forget we drive on the lefthand side,” and before I can ask anything else, he pulls out of his space. It takes me a moment to get the Jeep started and into gear before I pull out and follow him out onto the road.

He must have a little bit of a conscious because he doesn’t speed off into the early evening and leaving me to find my own way home. We pull off the motorway, marked the M25 and after what feels like hundreds of miles, we’re pulling down small and narrow lanes. Xavier slows as he takes the corners in the now darkness, and I stay close. My eyes roam around at the emptiness that surrounds us, there are a few lights scattered in the distance but not many.

I see his blinker come on and I put mine on as he pulls across the road to the right and pulls outside tall, black, wrought iron gates. I slow to a complete halt and look up through my lashes as the gates begin to open to reveal a large, gothic looking manor house sitting proudly at the end of the driveway. The sound of the iron dragging along the shingled drive and I hear Xavier’s tires crunch over the stones, and once he is through the gate, I take my foot off the brake and let the car roll forward as I follow him up the driveway when he pulls into a carport. I stay parked, waiting for him to tell me where to park and he signals for me to just pull behind him. I look to the side of the carport and see a ramp going underground and I am assuming it leads to a garage. Cutting the engine, I open the door and my heavy legs hit the ground. I feel exhausted.

Opening the trunk of the car, I get my luggage out and make my way up to the house. The house was lit up with up lights attached to the grey brick. There was a large archway and tucked inside was an iron door with a heavy knocker attached to it. It looked beastly. Like Xavier never wanted anyone here, it was like an iron fort he was trying to keep people out of.

He still doesn’t help me with my luggage but I have succumbed the fact that he won’t.

---