My heart pounds. I see two emotions clouding his eyes now. Fear and sadness. Xander is afraid to tell me what life is like beyond the wealth and the glamour. That this truth is hard and ugly and something that could cause me to walk away from him.
I move my hands to his face and cradle it. “Tell me your story. All of it.”
Xander draws a breath of air, and I can see his chest rise and fall as he does. “I promise I won’t hold it against you if you change your mind and decide this isn’t for you. I could never live with myself if you stayed with me and it caused you pain. If it ruined your life. I couldn’t bear it.”
I blink back tears. He doesn’t even know it, but all of the things Xander is saying right now are only planting more feelings for him in my heart.
“I will always be honest with you. I promise you that,” I say firmly, taking his hands again.
Xander shifts his gaze to the wall as if gathering his emotions for a moment. He swallows, and finally, after what seems like forever, turns back to me.
“I’ve never felt more vulnerable than I do now,” Xander whispers, his eyes searching mine. “Christ, I don’t think I’ve even used the word vulnerable in my life.”
A lump forms in my throat. I remove one hand from his and brush my fingertips over his lips. Xander kisses them gently in response, placing that hand over mine and drawing it to his chest.
“Talk to me, Xander Wales. I promise, you are safe with me,” I say, my voice unexpectedly thick with emotion.
His eyes widen as soon as he hears it. Xander nods. I undo my coat, and he helps me take it off. Once it’s hung up, he takes my hand in his and leads me into the living room.
Xander releases my hand. “Would you like a drink? I’m going to have a Scotch. I need it.”
He moves around to the decanter in the bookcase behind his desk. And just like my fantasy, he’s going to sip that amber liquid right in front of me.
“I’ll take one,” I say. I set my tote down and slip out of my ballet flats. I shiver, as this March has been damp and chilly so far.
I stare at the fireplace, longing for a blazing fire to sit in front of. I hear the sound of liquid being poured. I turn around and watch as Xander pours the amber-hued liquid into two old-fashioned tumblers. He scoops them up and moves towards me.
“Would you like me to light a fire? Are you cold?” he asks, handing me a glass.
“Thank you, and yes, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” I say, taking the glass from him.
“No, not at all.” Xander places his Scotch on the mantle and then crouches down in front of the grate. I sink down on the floor, tucking my legs up underneath me, and stare down at the rich liquid in my glass as I swirl it around.
Soon, a fire is kindling, tiny flames of orange licking around the bottom and edges of the log. Xander retrieves his glass from the mantle and sits down next to me. He takes a sip of the Scotch, his gaze staring straight ahead into the fire.
I take a sip of my drink, inhaling the spicy aroma as I do. As I swallow, it’s like drinking a fiery blend of spices and honey. I feel the burn of the Scotch go down my throat and straight into my stomach. Warmth spreads through my body from that one sip, and I exhale as it does.
Xander is absently swirling his Scotch round and round in his glass, his gaze still straight ahead.
“I don’t even know where to start,” he finally says, his voice low. “Christ, it’s such a shitshow. There is no way you are going to want to date me after tonight. You will run out that door and never look back.”
My heart wrenches inside my chest. I reach for his hand and squeeze it firmly in mine.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I reassure him.
He’s quiet again. A nervous feeling takes root in my stomach with each second that passes. Lord, what does he have to tell me that is so awful?
Finally, he clears his throat. “My family life is an illusion,” he says, his voice now so low, it’s hard to hear over the crackling of the fire. “Our family