CHAPTER 15. STORM #6
“Really?” Xavier raises an eyebrow, shaking his head. “After he offered you money so you wouldn’t—” He trails off, flustered, clearly a little pissed, searching for the right word. “You know.”
“Ah.” I wince. “So you heard everything.”
“Some of it,” Xavier says, noncommittal. “I knew he’d embarrass himself.”
“He did,” I snort. “But his heart’s in the right place.”
I hesitate, wondering if I should leave it there. But pushing things with Xavier lately has been…kind of exhilarating.
“He’s sure I’m going to break your heart,” I add.
Xavier smirks at that, something dark flickering behind it. “Well, maybe he’s not as crazy as I thought.”
I frown, not quite following. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
But before I can press him on it, the door opens. I glance over, expecting the waitress—and feel my stomach drop.
It’s Selena Hast, all bright magenta coat and too much enthusiasm.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” she says, beaming like she wasn’t entirely sure we’d show. “Great to see you!”
“Hello,” I reply, keeping my tone cool. I know her type—be polite now, and I’ll regret it later.
We shake hands, and she slides into the seat across from us. Her cloying perfume fills the booth, thick and artificial, like something chemical in the air.
“So,” she says, setting a snakeskin bag on the table and pulling a small black voice recorder from her coat pocket, “I won’t take much of your time, so let’s cut to the chase. Any questions before we start?”
“Yeah,” I say, not missing a beat. “How do we know you’re not making this up? That you actually have real information about whoever sent you the tracker?”
“You don’t,” she says, one corner of her mouth lifting. “But I give you my word.”
Xavier lets out a quiet snort, and Selena turns to him, her expression sharpening. “That might not mean much to you, but it does to me. So—once you answer a few of my questions, I’ll tell you how I got the tracker.”
“Five,” I remind her, my tone firm. “Five questions.”
She looks back at me and gives a small nod.
“Right. Just like we agreed.” Then her gaze shifts between us, her posture straightening like she’s about to deal cards.
“Here’s how this works: I’ll ask five questions, one at a time.
You both answer each of them. Then I give you what you came for. Deal?”
“Deal,” Xavier and I say at the same time.
“Great,” she says, pressing her lips together like she’s testing a new lipstick. “But first, if you don’t mind, I’m going to track down the waitress and order some tea. I’ll be back in a minute.” She stands, leaves the recorder on the table, and walks out.
As soon as the door closes, Xavier picks up the recorder, checks if it’s on, then sets it back down.
“Maybe you were right,” he says, leaning back. “I’m starting to feel like this might’ve been a mistake.”
“We can still walk,” I tell him, offering a small smile. “Honestly, I have no idea if she’s bluffing—but I’m good with whatever you decide.”
Xavier shrugs, eyes on me, thoughtful, brows drawn. “The articles, the journalists tailing us—it’s too much to be a coincidence. And we don’t have any other leads. So yeah, I’m inclined to see what she has. Better than nothing.”
“Yeah, I guess,” I say, nodding. “But the second it starts to feel off, we’re out. Okay?”
He nods again, but there’s still a crease between his brows. Something’s bothering him.
“Hey,” I say, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “Stop frowning or I’ll kiss you again—and then we’ll be on the front page tomorrow.”
That gets the corners of his mouth to twitch. Barely a smile, but his eyes lighten a little. Then he leans in and starts buttoning the top of my shirt without a word.
“Hey, I only started wearing it open because of you,” I remind him. “Last time you said I looked like a stuck-up dork.”
“People are going to talk,” Xavier says, a flicker of mischief in his eyes.
It takes me a second to get what he means—then I do. Right. The hickeys. The ones he’s been leaving all over my neck lately. Shit. They probably showed through the collar.
Just as I’m processing that, the door swings open and Selena walks back in.
“Right, so,” she says, flopping onto the seat across from us. “Shall we?”
“Let’s get it over with,” I mutter with a sigh, already bracing myself for whatever she’s about to throw at us.
“Sure,” Selena smirks. “But I’m hoping for real answers here, not just yeses or nos, alright? I need something worth writing about.”
Xavier and I stay quiet, but she takes our silence as agreement and clicks on the recorder.
“So,” she begins, her tone just a little too pleased, “let’s start with the big one. What exactly is the relationship between you two? I mean—really?”
I keep my expression neutral, though my first instinct is to walk straight out of the room. Still, I stay put, trying to look unfazed.
“Mr. Doherty?” she says, turning to me. “You first.”
“We’re partners,” I say, keeping it vague—true enough to be honest, but just careful enough not to give her anything more.
“Work partners? Or lovers?” Selena presses, raising an eyebrow. “You’ll have to elaborate.”
I blink, resisting the urge to glance at Xavier. I can’t look at him—not when I’m about to lie.
“Work,” I say. “Work partners. And friends.”
Something twists in my chest—sharp, almost like guilt. I can feel Xavier watching me, but I keep my eyes on Selena.
It’s not untrue. But it’s not the whole truth either.
I’m not even sure I could name what we are to each other.
Lovers? Yes—but not just. What I feel for Xavier has a weight, a heat, a tenderness that the word “lovers” doesn’t begin to hold.
So even if I were lying to Selena Hast—which technically, I’m not—I wouldn’t feel bad. I never promised her honesty.
“Alright,” she says, though there’s a flicker of disappointment in her voice as she turns to Xavier. “What about you, Mr. Ormond?”
“Colleagues,” Xavier says, his voice flat with distance. “Next question?”
For a second, I think Selena’s going to press him to clarify—like she did with me—but she lets it slide. Just smiles.
“Tell me, Mr. Ormond,” she says. “What’s a typical day with Mr. Doherty like?”
I finally manage to look at Xavier, still feeling a little warm from the last question.
Xavier doesn’t meet my gaze. His voice is cool, even. “We wake up. Have breakfast. Go out to investigate. Come home, cook or order dinner. Go to sleep.”
Even before Selena reacts, I know exactly what she’s going to pick up on. The way Xavier phrased it—makes it sound like we do everything together. Which, honestly, we kind of do now. But I don’t think he meant it that way. Still, Selena’s eyes are already glittering with interest.
“That sounds very cute and cozy,” she says, then turns to me. “Would you like to add anything, Mr. Doherty?”
“Uh,” I say, clearing my throat. “Just to be clear—we live together, but we have separate rooms.”
The second the words leave my mouth, I want to take them back.
I sound like a complete idiot—and worse, an insecure one, too.
But what really guts me is knowing exactly how Xavier will take it, even without looking.
He’s going to think I’m ashamed—of him, of us, of whatever’s starting to grow between us.
And the truth is, I’m not even sure why I said it—why I felt the need to deny what we are, after everything that’s happened.
I could’ve just let it slide. And even if people assumed—so what? They’d be right. Some fans might be upset, but they’d get over it. What Xavier and I have…it matters more than whatever damage it might do to our image.
“Good to know,” Selena says with a smirk—like even she thinks it’s pathetic that I felt the need to clarify. Heat creeps up my neck, my heartbeat loud in my ears.
“Alright,” she continues. “Next question. What are five traits you love most about each other?” She turns to me. “You start first, Mr. Doherty.”
“Uh,” I say again, then glance at Xavier—because I’ve wanted to for the past few minutes more than anything.
He meets my eyes, but his expression gives nothing away. The softness I saw in him before Selena barged in is gone, replaced by the mask he usually wears around strangers.
And right then, I feel this sudden, burning need to make him smile again. To see his eyes crinkle at the corners. It hits me so hard I want to say something—anything—and I don’t even care about the consequences.
I glance at the journalist. She nods, all encouragement.
“I, uh…I love how he’s really caring,” I begin, my cheeks burning, heart pounding at my own words. I can feel Xavier’s gaze sharpen, but I don’t dare meet his eyes again. “I love his loyalty to me. How he’s obsessed with mysteries.” I pause. “I love how his mind works. How he trusts me.”
I stop myself there, before I spiral into full-on confession territory. It already sounds like one.
“Amazing,” Selena says brightly, clearly thrilled with the overshare. Then she turns to Xavier. “What about you, Mr. Ormond? What do you love most about Mr. Doherty?”
“There’s no one like him.”
It’s all Xavier says. I turn to look at him, eyes stinging—not because of the words exactly, but the way they land. He’s not looking at me, but I can feel it, the weight of his attention, and something in me aches to lean in and kiss him.
Selena doesn’t seem to clock any of it. She just says, “Four more?”
Xavier glances at her, jaw tight. “Write it down five times.”
She blinks, then nods, apparently deciding not to push it. That’s when the door opens and the waitress walks in with a cup of tea. None of us speak as she sets it down and leaves again.
As soon as the door shuts, Selena takes a sip and says, like she’s picking up a thread, “Next question. Have you two ever had sex?”
The coffee hits the wrong way in my throat, and I start coughing—loud and choking, like I just swallowed a pebble. For a few seconds, I’m too busy trying to breathe to do anything else, while Xavier and Selena both watch me like I might pass out.