Chapter 9
Nine
The Wrong Kind of Care
Kelly
I woke up in the guest room at the compound with the sharp, humiliating awareness that I had slept better after almost kissing Xerses Norouzi than I had after fighting with him.
I should not have felt comfortable here and that was the problem.
But I did.
When I opened my eyes and smelled black tea and sea air, my body softened.
I rolled onto my back and groaned into the pillow. I had also somehow was at ease near
him. Last night replayed in my mind.
I’d stood in my apartment with him and he’d noticed me. He saw my books, my couch, and my tea.
And instead of acting like those things were quaint or messy or beneath him, he acted like they were proof of me. And that he might like me. I shoved the blanket off and sat up.
No, I wasn’t going to lie to myself before breakfast but the truth was I did like him and that was the entire issue.
A soft knock hit the door before I’d managed to swing my legs off the bed.
“Come in,” I called.
Hope cracked the door and poked her head through. “Alive?”
“I slept nine hours in a billionaire’s guest room after almost kissing his son on a terrace. That is not bad. That is a psychological emergency.”
Hope pressed her lips together. “Why didn’t you kiss him?”
“Because I like him.”
She slipped inside in leggings and one of Charlie’s T-shirts, looking unfairly glowy for a woman who should have been annoying me more than she currently was.
“You missed breakfast.”
“It’s ten-thirty.”
She laughed and came farther in, carrying one of the clear glass tea cups from downstairs. “Maman sent tea.”
Of course she had. I took the glass and held it between both hands while the heat soaked into my palms.
“How’s the family weather,” I asked.
Hope leaned her shoulder against the dresser.
“Pretty good. Charlie is trying to start a pickleball tournament no one asked for. Miley is pretending she’s above family games even though Jeff already got her to agree to teams. Avril and Kir disappeared for a walk.
Isabel is helping Maman with flowers. Britney is in a good mood, which is frightening. ”
I sipped the tea.
“Has Xerses surfaced?” I asked.
Hope laughed and backed toward the door. “Not yet but come downstairs when you’re human. Maybe we’ll get you properly kissed today.”
“That feels optimistic.”
“I remember all my friends wanting me with Charlie right away.”
Then she was gone, leaving me alone.
When I came down, Roxanne had somehow produced brunch and lunch simultaneously. There were platters of fruit, meat, bowls of herbs and bread and eggs and enough other food to keep a small village emotionally stable.
And because the universe was apparently committed to making every tiny social adaptation between me and Xerses as visible as possible, there was a place set for me beside him without anyone having to ask.
I saw it. He saw me see it. One side of his mouth moved.
I sat down because there was no point making a thing out of what was now simply how the room had arranged itself around us.
“Good morning,” he said.
His voice tones singled me out entirely and I heated. But I nodded, “Good morning.”
“You slept.”
I looked at him. “I hear you did too.”
His eyes held mine for one beat too long. “You need coffee.”
Heat flashed low and immediate.
“Is my mood that obvious without it?” I asked.
“Yes.” He reached for the tea carafe before I could and poured into my glass without asking as he signaled a server for my coffee.
I watched the dark amber stream fill the glass.
“You pour tea like a man who’s been trained by a woman who treats hospitality as a competitive sport.”
“That is exactly what happened.”
“Clearly.” I took a sip and hated how comforting that felt.
The rest of brunch moved around us. Charlie loudly accusing everyone of strategic cheating at cornhole before teams had even been chosen.
Hope trying and failing not to laugh at him.
Miley and Jeff bickering in the way only couples in love and lawyers ever managed.
Roxanne drifting through the room in silk and commands.
Parvis looking perfectly composed while somehow taking in every single shifting at once.
My coffee came with the hint of lavender. And me, seated beside Xerses in a place that had stopped feeling temporary enough to be entirely safe.
He moved like I was next to him, passed me the tea before asking if I wanted it and answered quietly when I asked the name of one of the dishes I didn’t recognize.
I could seriously drown in wishing for a life beside him forever.
By the time brunch ended and people started breaking into smaller groups, I needed air.
I excused myself and made it about halfway to the little seating area overlooking one edge of the private cove before I heard footsteps behind me.
I didn’t turn around right away. Mostly because if I did, he’d know I’d already known it was him.
When I waited he said, “You disappear with more intention every time.”
I turned back and my heart zipped.
Xerses stood there sleeves rolled, dark shirt open at the throat, and his face was unreadable in that way that had become more and more attractive.
I tried to breathe but my octave was higher when I said, “I was getting air.”
“That is generally how it works.”
His eyes moved over my face once, slower than politeness, quicker than hunger.
The exact speed to make my body go alert anyway.
“I have something for you,” he said.
Every instinct I had sharpened at once.
“No.”
One brow lifted. “You don’t know what it is.”
“I know what the rules are.”
“This doesn’t violate them.”
“That sounds extremely optimistic coming from you.”
He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. I stared. “If you pull out diamonds, I’m shoving you into a bush.”
“It’s not diamonds.”
“What then-”
Instead of answering, he held out a small box.
Not flashy. Not wrapped in some absurd ribbon. Just a pale cream box no bigger than both of my hands together.
I looked from it to him and back.
“No.”
“No.”
“I bought it before we set the rules.”
That stopped me.
“When.”
“After I came to your house uninvited. It was supposed to be an apology.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Not last night then?”
He exhaled very slightly through his nose, the nearest thing to impatience I’d seen from him all day. “After I left your building. Before I went into the city to work, I passed a shop in town and saw something you would like.”
My stomach did one ugly little twist. That sounded like a man buying a woman a gift because he wanted to. I folded my arms tighter. “That doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
“This is not helping me.”
One side of his mouth almost moved. “It wasn’t expensive or luxurious. It made me think of you.”
I kept staring at the box.
I had a beautiful, impossible man standing in the gardens outside his family’s coastal palace holding out a medium size box and telling me he saw something that made him think of me.
“Why,” I asked as I refused to cry or show emotion in any way. “You never bought me anything before?”
“I know. I should have moved faster.” His gaze didn’t move from mine. “But I did this because I wanted to.”
Again. Simple and devastating. “You can’t say things like that and expect me to stop hearing alarms.”
“I’m not asking you to stop hearing them.”
“Then what are you asking.”
He looked down at the box once, then back up.
“I’m asking you to trust that not every gift is an act of control.”
That landed square in the middle of me. I took the box before I could think too hard about what that meant.
It was light. I opened the box and my heart stilled. There were two tea glasses. Glass, Persian style, delicate, non identical set of two with fine gold detail around the rim, and absolutely beautiful.
There was also a little packet of saffron sugar cubes tucked in beside them. I stared.
The whole garden seemed to blur for one stupid second.
I shut the box carefully and looked back up at him.
His expression had changed. Tears formed and I was not and never will be a cryer but I asked, “Why these.”
He glanced toward the house, toward the ocean beyond it, and then back at me. “You like the tea.”
I held the box tighter.
He went on, slower now, like he was trying to give me truth without pushing too hard on any one part of it.
“You drink tea and it seems to help you calm down. My mother’s tea makes you soften every time.” His eyes stayed on my face. “After you slammed the door in my face, I saw those in the shop and I wanted to not make you mad anymore.”
My heart thumped. He believed he cared, at least a little.
I looked down at the box again because if I kept looking at him, I was going to lose my mind and forget myself.
“We have a no-gifts rule,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
The simple agreement should not have rattled me as much as it did. I looked up sharply. “You’re not even arguing.”
“I’m not confused about what this is.”
“Then why are you doing it.”
“Because I wanted to give you something.”
My pulse zipped. He’d thought of me and wanted to give me something. This was intimate in an entirely different direction.
“That is exactly the problem,” I said.
Something in his face tightened. Had I hurt him? No, impossible, but he didn’t like what I said.
His eyes widened. “Why?”
I clenched my body tighter. “Because you keep acting like the fact that you mean well fixes the effect.”
The words came out faster than I meant them to
He was still. The sea moved behind us, slow and endless.
“I didn’t do this to fix anything,” he said.
“I understand.”
“Then what is the issue.”
I laughed once, short and humorless. “It’s still a gift.”
“Yes.”
He truly didn’t understand. God. How was I supposed to fight a man who wasn’t even doing the thing wrong on purpose anymore?
I put the box down on the stone table between us before I crushed it by accident.
“The issue,” I said, “is that this is how men act when they are dating and actually care about women and we both know that’s not what we are.”
His jaw tightened.