Chapter 40
Delilah
I blink awake, the first tendrils of morning light blinding me.
For a moment, I lie still, nestled under the warm blankets, my mind foggy with sleep.
The mental images from last night, of Xavier breaking into my room, our confrontation, and the intense moments that followed, all feel like a vivid dream. A really freaking sexy one. But unreal.
With a groan, I sit up to look at my pillow. A dark stain mars the white pillowcase, an unmistakable blotch of dried blood where Xavier had lain when I’d accidentally cut him with the dagger.
The sight jolts me fully awake, a sharp, breath-stealing reminder that it wasn’t a dream. All of it really happened. The danger, the fear, the adrenaline, and then . . . us, together, the raw, carnal fucking that followed. As well as the tender, whispered words from him lulling me to sleep.
Xavier was here.
He had come to protect me, to test me, and in the end, to be with me. But now, the bed is empty, the space beside me cold. Where did he go after I passed out? Where did he sleep, if not here with me?
Climbing out of bed, I wrap a robe around myself and pad across the room to the window, peering out into the breaking day. The quiet, peaceful street offers no clues, no sign of Xavier or the night’s events.
Is he coming back? Or was last night just a quick reunion before he returned to whatever summons the Order assigned him?
I turn away from the window, my gaze falling on the small bloody stain again. It’s real. That much is undeniable. I reach for my phone, half expecting, half hoping for a message from him. But the screen remains dark, devoid of new notifications.
With a sigh, I set my phone on the dresser, hide the dagger in my suitcase, and strip the pillowcase from the pillow.
If I can get the stain out of it without Gloria finding out, it’ll be a miracle.
That woman might be the sweetest person to walk the earth, but she is perceptive in a way that’s unnerving.
I freshen up in the bathroom before grabbing the pillowcase, wadding it up, and heading downstairs.
On my way to the kitchen, I put the material in the washing machine and turn it on.
The delicious aroma of coffee brewing and the sizzle of bacon pulls me forward.
The familiar sounds of breakfast preparation mingle with Gloria’s gentle humming.
As I round the corner, I find her in front of the stove, flipping strips of bacon. She moves between the skillet and the countertop, a set of tongs in one hand and a coffee pot in the other.
“Good morning, Delilah,” she says without turning around. “I hope you’re hungry. I’m making enough to feed an army.”
“Good morning, Gloria. I’m always hungry.” I make my way over to her and take the coffee pot from her hand. “It smells amazing in here.”
She finally turns to look at me, her gaze scrutinizing. “Is your head okay?”
I scrunch my face in confusion until it dawns on me that hitting my head was what I lied about last night. “Oh, it’s fine. Thanks. It was stupid, really. I must’ve been dreaming really hard.”
“Very hard, from the sound of it.”
If she heard Xavier fucking me, I will literally die from embarrassment.
I will myself not to blush, but it doesn’t work. Before she catches my cheeks turning red, I walk away and open a cabinet to retrieve a coffee mug. Then I busy myself with pouring coffee and adding creamer, using the time to compose myself.
When I’m sure I can face her without looking guilty, I turn back around. And almost drop my coffee cup.
Xavier walks into the room, holding a bag of sugar. “Is this the size you wanted, Gloria?”
My foster mother waves him over. “Yes, that’s perfect. Set it on the counter, dear.”
Xavier? Dear? What alternate universe am I in?
I pinch myself, hard enough for it to really sting, but the image in front of me doesn’t disappear.
Xavier stands there, dressed in his customary black from head to toe, looking sinfully delicious and so out of place.
The only thing that’s changed is the addition of a Band-Aid on his neck where I cut him.
“Don’t be rude, Delilah,” Gloria says. “Say good morning to our guest. Xavier rode all the way here to spend the day with the family. The least you can do is be polite to your boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend?” I repeat stupidly, my brain still unable to comprehend what’s happening right before my eyes.
Xavier flashes me a grin that’s all mischief as he walks up to me. “Good morning, beautiful.”
He slides his hand into my messy bun to grip the back of my head and pulls me toward him for a kiss. My brain goes on tilt when his lips brush mine. It’s over before I can react and kiss him back. Or be embarrassed because my foster mother is in the room with us.
“What in the hell is going on?” I ask him.
Gloria clucks her tongue and shakes her head. “For goodness’ sake, behave yourself, Delilah Scott.”
He smirks down at me and mouths, “Donovan.”
Gloria continues, unaware of the chaos this man has unleashed with his presence. “I invited him when he showed up this morning to see you. Xavier mentioned he had no plans for the holiday, and I thought it would be nice for him to join us. After all, family should be together on days like today.”
Family. The word echoes in my head. Xavier here, as part of this intimate gathering, suddenly frames him in a new light.
Not just as an assassin cloaked in danger, but as someone normal, a man wanting to spend time with his girlfriend.
It sounds too trivial compared to the things we’ve been through, but maybe the change is good?
“Thanks for having me,” Xavier says to Gloria. His expression softens when he turns back to look at me. “I thought you’d be happy.”
“I am.”
He quirks a brow. “Yeah, I can tell.” He steps closer, lowering his voice so only I can hear. “You were way happier to see me last night.”
“Shut up.” I glance at Gloria to make sure she didn’t hear us. “A heads-up would’ve been nice.”
“I missed you.”
I smile up at him, forcing myself to push aside my initial shock. It’s not lost on me that he’s made the effort to be here. Did he finish his summons early just to surprise me?
“Xavier, can you please work on the stuffing?” Gloria asks, serving breakfast onto several plates. “I have the recipe and the ingredients laid out on the table.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Gloria shoots me a pointed look. “At least someone woke up with their manners this morning.”
I take a sip of my coffee, internally shaking my head at the metamorphosis Xavier has undergone in a manner of seconds. “What can I help with?”
“You can peel the potatoes.”
The sound of light footsteps and giggling heralds the arrival of Emily and Sandra.
The moment they step into the kitchen, their eyes land on Xavier, and their usual bubbly chatter comes to an abrupt halt.
It’s as if they’ve walked into a magnetic field, their attention completely captured by the tall, dark figure helping with the Thanksgiving preparations.
“Who’s that?” Emily asks, her tone a mix of curiosity and awe, her gaze tracing the visible part of Xavier’s tattoos that peek out from under his sleeves.
“Is that your motorcycle outside?” Sandra asks.
Gloria frowns. “Girls, what did I tell you about being polite?”
Both of them mumble something about proper introductions instead of inquiries, and I fight back a smile.
“This is Xavier. He’s, uh, my friend.”
“I’m way more than a friend,” Xavier corrects with a smirk, looking at me with a heated expression.
Gloria sighs while the insinuation flies right over the girls’ heads. “Eat your breakfast.”
Sandra and Emily take the offered plates and walk straight to where Xavier sits, measuring ingredients for the stuffing. They plant themselves on either side of him, their gazes wide with curiosity. I sit across from them so I can watch the entire interaction.
“I love your tattoos,” Sandra says. She points to an intricate design around his wrist. “What does it mean?”
Emily pipes up at the same time. “How many do you have?”
Xavier’s smile widens at their enthusiasm, and he answers them as they bombard him with questions. The conversation flows steadily, with the girls hanging on his every word, barely eating, clearly entranced by him. I can’t blame them.
Xavier has that effect on me, too.
I remain quiet, watching the scene unfold with a mixture of amusement stirring within me. It’s one thing for Xavier to be accepted by Gloria; it’s another to see him charm my sisters so effortlessly after the childhood they’ve had.
The atmosphere shifts, a tangible change in the air as Ben walks into the kitchen. His eyes quickly take in the scene: Xavier, surrounded by my sisters, fitting into the family setting as if he’s always been a part of it.
The awkwardness that descends on the room has my skin tightening with anxiety. Ben’s smile is strained as he jerks his chin in Xavier’s direction. “X.”
“McKenzie.” Xavier responds with a nod, his voice neutral but polite.
The tension thickens, the air heavy with unresolved emotion. Ben’s gaze darts to me and narrows with suspicion. I shrug.
It’s not like I planned for two assassins to be at the Thanksgiving table.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions inside me. My gaze zips back and forth between the two men as if they’re going to kill each other at any second.
What a clusterfuck.
As the day progresses, the kitchen becomes a hive of activity, everyone contributing to the Thanksgiving meal. Initially, Ben keeps to himself, focusing intently on the tasks Gloria assigns him. However, as morning becomes the afternoon, his cool demeanor slowly begins to melt away.
Ben laughs. “Do you remember that time when Felton put a snake in Ames’s briefcase?”
“Ames didn’t give a sh—” Xavier coughs at Gloria’s look of warning. “He wasn’t scared at all. He just picked up the poisonous snake like it was nothing and tossed it to the floor. That’s when I knew he was crazy.”
Their camaraderie, formed years ago during their time as recruits, warms my heart. If I could wish for something, it’d be for them to always be like this. Not only brothers-in-arms, but friends.
By the time the turkey is ready and we’re all called to the table, the atmosphere is remarkably lighter.
The dining room is warm with soft lighting and the rich smells of our Thanksgiving feast. Gloria places the golden-brown turkey at the center of the table with a proud smile, declaring it’s time to carve the bird.
“Who would like the honors?” Gloria asks, looking between Ben and Xavier.
Ben waves a hand. “X is good with knives. The best I’ve ever seen.”
My eyes widen at his slipup, but Xavier merely grins. “It’s true,” he says. “Although McKenzie is a genius with computers.”
The girls, however, have a different reaction.
“That’s so cool!” Sandra exclaims.
“Are you a ninja?” Emily asks Xavier.
Sandra rolls her eyes. “Of course not. Obviously, he’s a secret agent.”
Emily’s mouth falls open. “What kind of weapons do you have?”
“Girls,” Gloria says with a firm tone. “That’s enough.”
Ben leans onto the table and drops his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “X has a lot of weapons.”
He laughs when I glare at him. “Erm, I’m not sure that’s a good thing,” I mutter.
“I want to see!” Sandra whisper-shouts. Emily nods emphatically, making her ponytail wiggle.
Xavier reaches over to grip my thigh under the table, caressing it with his thumb. “Maybe next time,” he says, winking at them.
That’s when both of my sisters, and possibly Gloria, fall in love with him.
I’m not far behind them.
Xavier releases me to take hold of the carving tools.
With a confident smile, he rises to his feet, and the room instantly quiets.
I inwardly roll my eyes, expecting a simple slice and serve.
What ends up happening is something that rivals—and surpasses—those people who cook hibachi style in restaurants.
With a steady, precise grip, Xavier positions the knife just so, his movements smooth and assured. The blade glides through the turkey with ease, each slice clean and perfect, showcasing his talent. The way he handles the tools is second nature to him, each motion deliberate and efficient.
I know firsthand how good he is with blades. It’s a work of art.
His tattoos undulate on his skin as he works, drawing my attention from his skilled fingers to the decorative ink. Only Xavier Donovan could carve a turkey and make it look fucking sexy.
I flick my gaze to Gloria and then my sisters, taking in the worship-like expressions on their faces. I stand corrected: This is the moment they’ve fallen in love with Xavier.
Ben watches, a smug and amused smile playing about his lips. He catches my attention and dips his head in a “told you so” way. I grin and roll my eyes.
The slices of turkey are piled neatly on the serving platter, each piece as flawless as the last. Xavier completes the task with a flourish, setting the knife down and lifting the platter for all to see.
“Voilà,” he announces with a slight bow, his eyes meeting mine for a fleeting moment, filled with a playful glint that suggests he’s well aware of the effect his performance has had on everyone. Then he mouths, “I love you.”
My eyes nearly pop out of my head while my sisters and foster mom sigh, batting their lashes.
There’s a round of applause from everyone at the table, and even I can’t help but join in, my heart swelling with a mixture of pride and affection. Xavier has shown me another layer in the complex, intriguing man that I’m falling for.
This is the best Thanksgiving in my entire life.