Chapter 21
Xander
“Why is this meeting in my office?” I push off my desk, my chair rolling backward.
“Because you got married and never even as much as had a toast with us, asshole,” Caleb says, sauntering into my office with Cormac and Roxy.
Fuck. The last thing I want is to discuss my complicated arrangement with Cora. Especially the part on how it came about. They might have opinions, and at least one of them does, based on Roxy’s glare.
I’m half-hard from Cora’s sexy texts, and in no mood for this.
“I don’t remember drinking when you got married.” I narrow my eyes at Corm.
“You drink my best Macallan enough times.” He unbuttons his jacket and sits on a chair in front of my desk.
“What’s your problem, Xander?” Roxy leans against my bookshelf. Today she’s clad in a pantsuit, and a corset underneath. “Since when do you forgo a party invitation?”
“Since he’s been pussy-whipped.” Caleb chuckles and sits beside Corm.
Fair enough, I’ve been teasing my colleagues about them falling for their women, so I guess I need to absorb some razzing myself now.
“A party? I thought we were having a weekly update meeting.” I lean back in my chair, the situation in my pants finally under control. My fingers itch to check if Cora texted again, but I remain professional.
Well, if thinking about my wife naked, while trying to focus on work, is professional.
My wife.
Why does it feel so essential? Like something I need to survive? I went through my life not caring about anyone much. Enter Cora Winslow, and I’m a fucking goner.
The best plot twist ever, if you ask me.
“Okay, let’s toast to Mrs. Winslow-Stone. It pertains to this meeting agenda anyway.” Shit, why am I telling them this?
“How?” Corm asks.
I walk to my shelf and pour an inch of whiskey for everyone. When we each hold a glass, I raise mine.
“I’m pleased to announce that my father delivered, and I’m flying to San Francisco next week to get voted in as the new member of the Vireon board.”
“Good job.” Corm raises his glass.
“How does it relate to your new wife?” Roxy asks, before putting the glass to her lips.
She studies me with her penetrating scrutiny, and I fidget. I fucking fidget like she can see through me and discover the whole truth.
“My father had some conditions,” I say vaguely, an aftertaste of manipulation spreading on my tongue.
“He wanted you to marry? Wow.” Caleb shakes his head, having experienced parental manipulation firsthand most of his life. I make a noncommittal grunt. “To Mrs. Winslow-Stone.” He raises his glass.
“That’s quite a sacrifice.” Roxy still eyes me with a hint of suspicion. What’s her fucking problem?
“I get things done.” I shrug, taking a generous gulp.
I really don’t want to discuss this any further. Not with them. Corm and Cal started with a marriage of convenience and ended up falling for their women.
If I’m honest, I don’t mind that scenario in my case. Not at all. The past two weeks have proved that my bachelor days don’t compare to what I have now.
I know Cora looks at this as a temporary arrangement, but by the time we get to that point, she will have changed her mind.
I’ll make sure of that.
I want her in my life.
I want her to challenge me.
I want her. Period.
“Which reminds me, you owe me twenty grand.” Cal snickers.
“What are you talking about?” Fucking bet.
“Obviously, you’re not going to date seriously anymore.” My friend shrugs.
“Isn’t marriage the most serious commitment?” I argue.
“Not if it’s fake.” He shakes his head.
Not if I get my way.
Roxy’s tablet rings with an incoming video call, and she patches Declan through. Setting the screen on my desk, she angles it so Declan can see us all.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” Declan says dryly.
“You heard about Vireon already?” I try to move on from the Cora topic.
“What’s with Vireon? I’m talking about your marriage. Just don’t fuck it up; my wife is fond of Cora.” Declan signs some papers before he looks at the camera.
“All our wives are fond of Cora,” Corm points out, giving me that we-will-keep-an-eye-on-you look.
“Thank you for the vote of confidence. I’m not going to fuck it up.” I shake my head, annoyance rumbling through me.
As soon as I say the words, my own mind challenges the conviction. I’m going to fuck it up, am I not?
I don’t have a frame of reference for a successful relationship. All my relationships with women were chronically short-term by choice.
My professional relationships are based on negotiations, transactions, a dose of manipulation, and endless networking. I’m pretty sure that is not a solid foundation for a romantic relationship.
The situation with my family is still at sub-zero level. Come to think of it, the people in this room are my only friends, but even with them I’m bound by business.
My honeymoon bliss evaporates at the realization.
“What’s on the agenda, Roxy?” Corm asks.
We spend an hour discussing business, and for the first time in… forever… I can’t wait for it to be over. My usual enthusiasm took a day off.
Between Declan’s foreboding warning—not so welcome—and Cora’s sexting—very welcome—I’m on the edge.
Corm finally adjourns the meeting, and my colleagues leave. I glance at the fifty emails I received in the last hour, quickly assessing if any of them are urgent enough.
Before Cora, I would have tackled them all before leaving.
Today, I couldn’t care less.
“Did you blackmail her?” Roxy startles me.
“Fuck. I didn’t know you were still here.” I stand up, snatching my jacket from the backrest, the chair swirling.
I put it on, adjusting my cuffs. “What are you talking about, Ro?”
“Answer the question.” Her not scolding me for calling her Ro means she won’t let go of this conversation.
“Of course, I didn’t.” I grab my phone and walk to the door, opening it.
The office hum fills the air immediately, stopping her from further investigation.
“If you used that file to manipulate the woman in any way, I will feed your balls to a stray dog on the street,” she warns.
“In that case, I suggest you find a better strategy to deal with hungry dogs. If you don’t have any other work-related, questions, I have to go now.”
“I’m just wondering why a woman who didn’t want to have anything to do with you would marry you suddenly.” Roxy somehow keeps up, despite my long strides.
I hit the elevator button. “I wore her down the old-fashioned way.” I flip my palms upward, shrugging. “What’s not to love here?”
I’m so full of shit. I’m also full of urgency. To fucking leave.
To make sure I don’t screw it up with my wife. As if getting to her faster would change anything. Jesus, I’m pussy-whipped.
I jump into the elevator and wink at scowling Roxy before the door closes. I whip out my phone and text my wife.
Get naked now. I’m leaving work.
I stare at the screen, waiting for the three dancing dots, but there is no reply.
You better not have started without me, or there will be consequences, Mrs. Stone.
Still nothing. An unfamiliar sense of insecurity—one I really don’t like—washes over me. I call her. No answer. What the fuck?
I jump into my Lambo and rev the engine, speeding from the garage and breaking all sorts of rules.
Until I merge into the traffic. Fucking gridlock.
What’s the point of having a fast car when you have to crawl down the street with other cars and buses?
I try to call Cora twice more, not even caring to hide my desperation. Fucking Declan, planting the consuming thought.
Calm down, you idiot.
It’s not like I could have fucked it up between our texting and now. She must be taking a shower or something.
For the first time I use the valet parking at my hotel, throwing the keys at the attendant and marching through the lobby like my ass is on fire.
I take the stairs to the tenth floor to work off the pent-up energy. Swiping my card, I open the door and stop in my tracks.
“What are you doing here?”
And where is Cora?
Sissy unfolds herself from the sofa and saunters to me. “Surprise!” She opens her arms, expecting a hug.
I dodge her, my eyes darting around.
“Don’t be a grouch, darling. Your maid let me in. She’s been taking her sweet time tidying up your bedroom. I asked her to change the sheets.” Sissy wraps her arms around me.
“Fuck.” I peel her off me. “Go home, Sissy.”
I slide the double door to the bedroom open and blink a few times, adjusting to the darkness. The blinds are drawn, but even in the shadows of the room, I spot her immediately.
Cora sits on a bench by the window, her arms wrapped around her shins, her chin propped on her knees.
She turns to me. I can’t see her expression, which only deepens the sense of desperation. I want to eat the distance, take her in my arms, and explain this shit show, but something stops me. I observe her from my spot, unsure what to do.
The light floods the room. “Oh my God,” Sissy squeals. “No wonder she took so long. I’m calling the manager. You can’t take a nap on a job.”
“Sissy,” I growl.
Even with the lights on, Cora’s face is half-hidden behind her forearms, and I can’t figure out if she is pissed, sad, disappointed, or all of the above.
She swings her legs over and stands up, her expression unreadable. “I’m not on a job, and I take my naps whenever I want. But I guess you kids need to catch up, so I’ll leave you to it.”
She eyes me with… is that a smirk? She certainly doesn’t look pissed. That’s good. Isn’t it? Or is her indifference a sign of not caring at all? I swallow around the lump in my throat.
“Cora…” I extend my arm like I can stop her from leaving.
“You know her?” Sissy gasps. “Seriously, Xander, an affair with staff?”
“As I said, I don’t work here.” Cora rolls her eyes and moves to the adjacent room. She starts putting on her shoes.
“Sissy, stop insulting my wife.”
Cora pauses with one shoe on and looks at me, and then at Sissy, who is white as a sheet, and for the first time ever speechless. For a brief moment. Too brief.