6. Pinky Promises

(Xavier’s POV)

The crowd parted for me without a word. They always did. Power had a way of making space for itself, and I wore mine like a second skin. But as I closed the distance, my focus wasn’t on the investors, the cameras, or the whispers trailing behind me.

It was on her.

Laila.

Head tipped against Adrian’s shoulder, drowning in his jacket. My cousin’s jacket. Her skin flushed, her movements slack, her perfume—wild and sweet—muddied with the sharp sting of whiskey.

And Adrian… standing there like she belonged to him.

A muscle ticked in my jaw as I shrugged off my tuxedo jacket. The weight of it slid down my arms, but the pressure in my chest only grew heavier.

I didn’t stop until I stood in front of him. He didn’t move. Didn’t even look ashamed. His eyes locked with mine like a challenge.

My voice was calm, but the edge was razor-sharp. “She doesn’t need your jacket.”

I slipped it from her shoulders, slow, deliberate. My fingers brushed silk and skin—her skin—warm and trembling beneath my touch. She instinctively leaned into me. I held Adrian’s jacket a beat too long before thrusting it back into his hands.

His expression didn’t falter, but I caught it—the flicker. A warning. A rivalry buried deep in blood.

With one swift motion, I bent and swept Laila into my arms. Bridal style. Exactly where she belonged.

“Thank you for your service, Adrian,” I said coolly. “But I don’t think it’ll be needed anymore. Her husband is here now.”

I didn’t wait for his reply. Didn’t care about the murmurs around us. All I saw was her.

Josh had the car ready before we reached the curb. He rushed to open the door, bowing his head slightly.

I shifted to set her down—only for her fingers to snag my shirt in a clumsy, desperate grip.

“Don’t…” Her voice was soft, broken, drunk. “Don’t let go of me.”

The words cracked something in me.

I could’ve reminded myself she was tipsy, that she wouldn’t remember half of this tomorrow. I could’ve blamed the drug Celeste had slipped into my drink for the way my pulse thundered. But it wasn’t that. It was her. Always her.

So instead of pulling away, I slid into the car with her still in my lap.

She buried her face against my neck, lips brushing my skin in a clumsy pout. “You were busy… with that girl… didn’t look at me…” She inhaled deeply, humming. “Mmm. You smell nice.”

Her words were jumbled, ridiculous—yet every syllable seared into me.

My jaw clenched, hand tightening at her waist. Celeste’s poison burned in my veins, urging me to lose control, but it wasn’t her doing this to me.

“Christ,” I muttered, my control hanging by a thread.

She tilted her face up, eyes hazy but locked on mine. “Don’t leave me. Promise?” She lifted her left pinkie, wavering in the air.

I stared.

“Pinkie promise me,” she mumbled again.

Messy hair. Flushed cheeks. Lips parted like she was waiting for me to shatter. My chest ached in ways I didn’t allow.

I hooked my right pinkie around hers. “Pinkie promise,” I said, voice low.

She smiled—the smallest, sleepiest curve of her lips—and let out a satisfied sigh. Then she pressed her mouth to my neck and kissed me there.

“Fuck,” I whispered harshly, eyes closing. I would make Celeste pay for this. For slipping that goddamn Viagra in my drink.

The blood in my body was running wild, and the woman in my arms was busy whispering half-thoughts only she understood.

The car moved forward, city lights bleeding into the night. My phone buzzed in my pocket—Adrian, Celeste, whoever the hell it was. I ignored it.

They could wait.

“Xavier,” Laila murmured, pulling me back.

“Yes?” My voice was tighter than I intended.

“I have beeeen calling your name seventeen timesss,” she slurred, glaring adorably. “Why weren’t you listening?”

No, you haven’t. You only said it once.

“I’m sorry,” I said instead. “What were you saying?”

“Xavier… did I look pretty today?”

My chest softened despite myself. “Yes. You did.”

Her pout deepened. “Who’s prettier—me or that vanilla-scented girl?”

That actually made me chuckle. Celeste wasn’t even in the same universe as her.

“You,” I said simply.

Her hands came up to hold my face, clumsy and tender all at once. “Goooood boy,” she slurred, then kissed me full on the lips.

And just like that, every ounce of control I had left snapped.