Chapter 2: False Comfort

I barely slept that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I heard Scott's voice again.

The next morning, a black Cartier box sat on my desk, a gift from Freya.

I stared at it for a long time before finally picking it up. Father would surely demand that I deliver it to its destination. I knew full well the price I'd pay for disappointing him.

Old habits died hard.

Beckett Tower loomed proudly, its black glass walls reflecting the morning sun. The building didn't feel like a home so much as the headquarters of someone who could buy the government for fun.

The elevator doors opened onto the penthouse.

Xavier Beckett was waiting.

He wore dark gray pants and a dark sweater with the collar casually open. Like most Lycan aristocrats, his eyes had a distinctive violet hue. This morning, they looked almost silver in the sunlight streaming through the enormous windows.

His gaze dropped to the Cartier box, then returned to my face.

"You've been crying."

I blinked.

"Rough night?" he asked quietly.

"Is this your way of showing sympathy?"

"This is my way of being honest."

He stepped aside. "You're already here. Come in."

"One foot through the door doesn't mean I agree."

"It usually does."

I looked down.

Damn. He was right.

The penthouse was exactly as I remembered it. Minimalist. Expensive. Cold.

Books filled one wall. A grand piano overlooked the city skyline. Everything was immaculate, yet strangely empty. Nothing suggested that someone actually lived here. Not a single corner felt remotely human.

"Just put the box anywhere."

"It's from Freya."

"I didn't think Cartier would suddenly become sentimental."

I set it on the marble table.

"Aren't you even curious?"

"If Freya bought it, there are only two possibilities: jewelry…" He shrugged. "…or ammunition for a future argument."

I chuckled before I could stop myself.

Xavier lifted his head. "Well."

"What?"

"You're smiling."

"So?"

"I'm not sure you remember how."

"I've smiled before."

"Not in front of me."

He opened a cupboard and poured two glasses of whiskey. It wasn't even midday.

"I don't drink."

"You just had the worst day of your life." He slid a glass toward me. "You deserve an exception."

I hesitated, then took it.

He raised his glass. "To poor decisions."

"You mean my decisions?"

"I mean Scott Redwood's decisions."

I paused. "You think he was wrong?"

"I think humiliating his matchmaking partner in front of the Council made him look like a fool." He took a slow sip. "That's not power."

"Then what is?"

"A performance." Xavier leaned against the kitchen counter. "He wanted everyone watching."

I stared into the brown liquid. "I keep wondering what I did wrong."

"You believed him."

The answer came so quickly that my breath caught.

Xavier shrugged. "He dumped an intelligent woman for the sake of applause." The corner of his mouth lifted. "Honestly, it's embarrassing."

I stared at him. Nobody, not even my father, had defended me like that.

"You never even liked me."

"I never said I liked you." He met my gaze. "I said Scott was stupid."

Silence settled between us.

"Everyone thinks you and Freya are in love."

Xavier laughed, a genuine, hearty laugh. "The Royals believe a lot of things."

"So they're wrong?"

"My cousin wanted an alliance." He swirled the whiskey in his glass. "Freya wanted status."

"And you?"

"I wanted everyone to stop asking when I'd start a family."

"Very romantic."

"Reality rarely is." He studied me for a moment. "Your sister is beautiful."

I looked away. "I know."

"Objectively? She's stunning."

Something tightened in my chest.

"But…" He tilted his head. "…she spends more time organizing her life than living it."

"What do you mean?"

"Every dinner needs a seating chart."

I forced a smile.

"Every holiday comes with a spreadsheet."

A small laugh escaped me. "And somehow, every conversation turns into a board meeting."

I laughed harder. "Stop it."

"No." His violet eyes glinted. "I've dated difficult women. I can handle difficult."

"But there's something exhausting about dating your own personal event planner."

"Ugh," he groaned.

"Now." He pointed at me. "Fourth laugh."

"I hate that you're counting." I rolled my eyes.

"I'm counting because it's becoming a habit."

For the first time since Scott rejected me, I wasn't thinking about him.

I hated how easily Xavier managed that.

"So…" I asked quietly. "Do you really believe in the Moon Goddess?"

He looked surprised. "I was raised to believe."

"But?"

"But I learned that fate isn't an excuse for bad decisions."

"So you don't believe in predestined partners?"

"I believe people hide behind fate when they don't want to take responsibility."

I frowned. "That's a very Lycan answer."

"No." His smile thinned. "That's the answer of someone who's tired."

Before I could respond, my elbow knocked against the whiskey glass.

"Oh!"

Amber liquid splashed across the front of my white blouse. Cold and sticky, the fabric clung uncomfortably to my skin.

"…Amazing."

I folded my arms across my chest, instinctively trying to cover the wet fabric.

When I looked up, Xavier hadn't moved.

His gaze lingered on me a moment longer than necessary. Then he looked away, but not quickly enough to hide that he'd been looking.

Heat crept up my neck.

I should have felt embarrassed. Instead, beneath the humiliation and the lingering ache of Scott's rejection, something else stirred.

Xavier Beckett had noticed me.

Not as Scott's discarded match. Not as Freya's little sister sent to run errands.

As a woman.

And judging by the way his jaw tightened before he turned away, he wasn't entirely unaffected by the sight of me, either.

We both fell silent.

I couldn't tell who moved first. Maybe neither of us did. The kitchen simply seemed to shrink until there was barely room for anything except the space between us.

Then Xavier was standing close enough for me to catch the scent of cedar, whiskey, and the crisp winter air clinging to his sweater.

My heart skipped.

"So…" he murmured.

"So what?"

"You need to stop looking at me like that."

"I wasn't."

"You were."

"I hate you."

"I know."

He slowly raised his hand.

For one impossible second, I thought he was going to touch me. Instead, he brushed a stray strand of dark red hair away from my face. His finger barely grazed my cheek, yet heat spread through me as if he'd touched somewhere far more intimate.

I should have stepped back.

I didn't.

Neither did he.

Our eyes met. His violet gaze searched my face, and for once, I couldn't tell what he was thinking. He wasn't looking at me with pity. He wasn't laughing at me, either.

He was looking at me like he wanted something.

And the worst part?

I wanted him to want it.

Scott had made me feel disposable in front of an entire Council. Xavier was standing close enough to kiss me, and for the first time since yesterday, I didn't feel like the woman someone had rejected.

I felt desirable.

His gaze dropped to my lips.

Then he leaned in, slowly enough to give me every chance to stop him.

I didn't.