10. Ivy
TEN
Ivy
The house is quiet, which is a far cry from the state of my brain after that unique interaction with Xaden in the kitchen.
I’ve cleaned up the kitchen after filling the rest of the afternoon with tea parties and some coloring. Daisy even worked on some sight reading with me.
Cat, stop, dog, no. She’s not half bad.
And still, as I stand here, idly wiping down the already clean counters, I find myself looking over toward Xaden’s office. In the sliver of room visible to me, I can see him sitting behind his desk.
He’s been working hard, barely leaving his computer for snacks or bathroom breaks. I even brought his dinner to him, a turkey sandwich, because that’s all I could get him to agree to.
I’m utterly drawn in by the way he looks as he works, the dark slashes of his brows knitted together in concentration, darkening his sea-blue eyes.
Minutes pass, and I know that I could leave at any time. I should leave, but instead, I just watch.
After a few more moments, Xaden gets up from behind his desk and walks somewhere out of sight. I try to hide the fact that I was tuned into him like a TV drama.
When I look back up from throwing away some tiny pieces of garbage from the living room, Xaden is standing at the window behind his desk with a drink in hand.
He has a bar in there. Seems very apt for him.
The quiet persists, and I can’t keep lurking. So, I go over to see if he needs anything else before I go.
Stepping up to the threshold, I can sense the tension clinging to the space, Xaden’s stress visibly affecting his shoulders.
“Hey, Xaden. I wanted to check in before I went home. Everything good in here?”
He turns around, his stare meeting mine, and I can see how tired he is. Xaden looks drained, but there’s still this effortless air of composure that keeps his spine buttoned up tight.
“Hey, Ivy.” Xaden walks back to his desk, sitting down in the expensive-looking office chair that boasts ergonomic everything, even a swiveling footrest. “No, I’m all good. Thanks for today. I clearly needed your help.”
I chuckle lightly. “I’m always happy to help out. I can easily pay for my groceries and stuff thanks to you giving me this job, and Daisy is sweeter than I could dream of.”
With a gentle smile, Xaden takes a sip of his drink before setting it down on the desk’s leather blotter.
“Would you like one before you go? It’s not like you have to worry about driving.”
“Ha,” I laugh, “very true. Sure. I can handle one.”
He gets up and heads toward a bar I can now see in the corner. It’s tall and made of beautiful, dark wood.
I have a feeling it may have been a custom piece because it sits so snuggly in the corner that it had to have been measured and cut to size.
After only a few minutes, Xaden hands me a whiskey on the rocks, just like his, and he takes up his spot behind the desk again.
“I know I’ve already said it, but I really do appreciate you helping with Daisy. And yes, I’m paying you, but I know firsthand that that doesn’t always matter.”
Offering a pained smile, I shrug. “I still can’t believe that your other nanny stole from you. It seems so…well, to be frank, stupid. I mean, what were the odds that you wouldn’t catch her? And now you’ll tell every parent in town not to hire her.”
“That’s how I feel, for sure. I guess some people are just risk-takers. They don’t care about the consequences because they don’t let themselves think about them.”
My eyebrows go up to my hairline as the words sink in. They’re such a perfect way to describe my parents.
“Oof, that’s so real.”
Xaden chuckles a little, and he grins after taking another drink. “It sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”
And there it is again. Him normally asking about my life experiences.
I want to tell him. I want to tell Xaden all sorts of things—if partly to unburden myself from carrying the truth alone.
So why shouldn’t I? It’s not like I have to give him all the gory details. Maybe just a little…peek.
I sigh, sipping on the liquid courage for motivation. “Yeah. My, umm, parents. They aren’t…great people.”
Xaden’s expression sobers even as he finishes off the whiskey. “I’m sorry, Ivy. That’s rough.”
Nodding, I hum in agreement as my eyes wander down to the floor. “It really can be, yeah. I’m trying to move on from all that, though. I don’t want to let the past drag me down.”
“That’s a remarkably well-adjusted way to think of it. I’ll admit I admire that.”
My stare flicks back up to Xaden, and it’s all I can do to just remain silent. If I open my mouth, I just know that the entire crapton of garbage that is my emotional baggage will come tumbling out.
“Thanks,” is all I can muster after another minute and another sip.
As we sit in companionable silence for a moment, I run my gaze across the inside of Xaden’s office, taking in the space in a way I hadn’t yet.
There are backless wood shelves on each wall that are full of books, and surprisingly, they aren’t all non-fiction.
I can see some classics, well-known fantasy novels, like Lord of the Rings , and even a few surprising titles, like Priory of the Orange Tree and Nevermore .
Nestled among the books are small knick-knacks that scream Oxford library, too. There’s a small globe—brown-hued continents against a black background—collectible wine bottles, an actual sextant, and something that looks like a clockwork tower.
“Huh.” The noise is out of my mouth before I can think better of it.
“What?” Xaden asks, his dimple showing as he smirks with one side of his mouth.
“Sorry, I was just looking around. I’ll admit that I’m surprised to see fantasy and sci-fi on the shelves. I would have thought you were a non-fiction-only type of guy.”
He laughs, leaning back in the desk chair with a grin that makes my blood hum.
“I’m slightly offended by that.” His laugh picks up again before he stands up and goes to the shelves. “I love to read. It’s been a way to escape since I was a kid. But I’m used to the ridicule. The guys in basic did not let it go.”
“Basic? You were in the army?”
I raise my brows at him, and Xaden turns around. He looks shocked by his own words like he didn’t mean to say that.
“Oh, umm, yeah. I was there, and then I moved on to become a SEAL agent.”
Surprise hits me again, and I can’t keep my mouth from falling open slightly. “Oh wow. I had no idea. Isn’t that like one of the most rigorous training procedures of all the US defense programs?”
He nods, but there’s no pride or nostalgia behind his eyes, only a coldness that makes the corners of his mouth tug down.
“Yeah. It’s…intense. From start to finish, actually.”
He’s on edge. I can tell by just looking at him, and I regret asking about the time he served. It’s evident in his tone, his posture, that he doesn’t look back on it with fond memories.
Sipping the final few centimeters of my drink, I set the stout rocks glass down on his desk. The whiskey burns down my throat as I swallow, and I can feel the light warmth flow into my limbs, working its strange magic.
“Sorry that I brought it up. I’ll admit that I’m a little rusty making conversation with an adult.” I giggle at myself. “You know, unless I’m talking about their kids…or kids in general.”
Xaden smiles, patting me on the shoulder. “You’re about as good at it as I am. Can’t say I’ve been much of a social butterfly these past few years either.”
Lingering there for just a second longer than expected, I miss the warmth of Xaden’s fingers as he pulls them away.
And that is so very not good. Ivy, come on. He’s the boss. You need to get out of here.
I hear the logic in my thoughts. I understand that these things I’m telling myself are pretty damn true, and yes, I do need to leave.
Still, I can’t find it in me to move. Our gazes hover in a place of connection, and even as we both blink and look away briefly, our eyes keep coming back to each other.
My stomach is flip-flopping with the best of them, and heat claws beneath my skin. If I have little practice making small talk, I have even less with flirting.
I’ve been in a handful of five-date-long “relationships,” and none of those stretched much farther than college. Since I started working ten-hour days at the center, there’s just been no time.
And now? Oh, well, now I’m on the run from my dangerous, unhinged father, who keeps threatening me with texts and phone calls.
It’s definitely the best time to be seeing someone.
So why haven’t I moved? Why am I still standing here and wishing that Xaden would cross the few steps between us and ki?—
“Umm, I should probably get going. I need to fix my own food and get some rest before tomorrow.”
Xaden sucks in a breath, like he’s been rocked out of his own thoughts, and then nods gently. The movement barely registers against the way he tries to mask his disappointment.
Disappointment that has to just be about having company—not about me.
“Oh, right, of course. Well, thanks again, Ivy. I do thank you for everything.” He smiles, putting his hand on the back of his head before ruffling his hair. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I nod. “Yup. I’ll see you then. Goodnight, Xaden.”
He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, those blue, blue eyes. “Goodnight, Ivy.”
The sheets are scratchy, and my leg muscles are stiff. There’s a cricket somewhere that must’ve gotten inside right when I came home, and whenever I close my eyes, all they do is fly back open again.
Because I absolutely cannot be thinking of my boss right now.
“What in the hell is wrong with me? I’ve never…okay, I haven’t even dated in forever, but come on. It can’t just be blue balls.”
Saying no to a fun night out, volunteering for an extra shift, and spending evenings reading at home, that’s who I am.
Who is this person who can’t seem to keep her mind from wandering back to Xaden? Wondering what he might look like beneath those button-down shirts and ties…
Shifting onto my other side, I stare out across the room, where the window is cracked to let in a light breeze.
It’s so dark outside, and it’s few and far between that a car drives past on the road ahead.
I should be sleeping. I should be dreaming of that flying pig that haunts me or just drifting off without remembering the nightmares.
But I’m not. I’m lying here thinking about Xaden, fantasizing about Xaden.
I’ve tried everything I can think of to push him out of my mind—counting as high as I can, tracing the cracks in the ceiling, listing off the projects I still need to get done around the house—but it’s useless.
Tonight in the office with him was so charged, I can still feel the way his warm hand felt against my arm.
Thoughts of him keep spiraling, and I’ve contemplated every possible way I might feel him touch me again—platonically.
Those thoughts didn’t last, of course. Instead, I keep replaying the office encounter in my head, wondering what it might have been like if I walked up to him and kissed him.
What if it didn’t stop there?
What if I sauntered into Xaden’s office while he was working—wearing some tiny mini skirt and no panties—and climbed onto his lap?
Oh my God, Ivy. You’re so fucking dumb. Stop thinking like this.
But I can picture it, teasing him and kissing him, rubbing myself against his growing erection. I can see those strong hands of his hoisting me up onto the desk, spreading me open, and going to town like a damned Christmas feast.
Arousal pounds through me, my pussy clenching as I feel slick gather between my thighs. God, it’s been so long, and that really didn’t matter to me before.
But now?
It’s like if I don’t feel Xaden, if I can’t experience him claiming me every which way, I might actually combust.
My hand drifts down my stomach, and I try to fool myself into thinking I’m just scratching an itch.
But it drags further down, down, down.
I need it, just a quick distraction. It won’t mean anything, and I can imagine it’s Xaden’s hands playing with me and taking my body to those realms of pleasure I so rarely visit.
Finding the waistband of my panties, my heart pounds, visions that are decidedly not sugar plums dancing in my head.
Buzz, buzz.
I jump, yanking my hand away as I frantically go for my phone.
It’s not my father. It’s Jas.
I never did call her back, and I certainly don’t have time now. I message an apology and tell her the truth. I got busy at work.
She sends a little horny devil emoji, insinuating that I should “get busy” at work. Embarrassment makes my cheeks hot, and I brush her off before tossing the phone back down on the nightstand.
“Okay, Ivy. You’re done. Go to bed. No more…any of that.”
Shutting my eyes, I don’t let myself open them this time. I can’t stop myself from dreaming, but I can certainly avoid flicking the bean to fantasies of my boss.