13. Sloane #2
"I really like them," he admitted. "They're a fun group. Simon's impressive. He's clear about what he wants in life." He paused, selecting a grape. "I had a great conversation with him earlier on the boat. He seems like a man who knows what empire he's building."
"I don't know much about Simon's corporate life, other than the fact that he's wildly in love with my best friend," I noted.
We both laughed.
"Did you ever want that for yourself?" I asked.
He paused, looking at me. "What do you mean?"
"You agreed to this fake-dating arrangement so easily," I observed. "My father's company, the introductions, all the leverage. Did you never want to find someone to love? Someone who loves you back?"
He went quiet, turning a piece of fruit in his fingers.
"I think romantic love is overrated," he said plainly.
"Overrated."
"Not worthless," he clarified. "It's a beautiful concept, to love someone and be loved back.
I'm not dismissing it. But it's not what drives my life.
I have big ambitions. I have a clear roadmap of what I'm building and where I'm going, and messy, unpredictable love doesn't factor into it.
" He met my gaze. "If it happened on its own, if you and I built a partnership and it turned into love along the way, I wouldn't fight it.
But I'm not going to change my trajectory to chase a feeling. "
I stared at him, taking in the honesty. Different people followed different maps of what made a life, and his was drawn with corporate precision.
I opened my mouth to respond, but someone dropped into the empty chair across from us.
It was Xavier.
Andrew looked at him in surprise. "I thought you were in the suite taking care of Eliza."
"She's asleep," Xavier answered. "I was bored." He glanced between us. "What are you two talking about?"
I did not want to summarize the conversation. But Andrew answered before I could redirect.
"Love," Andrew offered. "And whether or not it's a life necessity."
Xavier let out a surprised laugh. "Well, that's a heavy topic."
"Andrew thinks it's overrated," I supplied, dry.
Xavier turned his head to look at Andrew. "I don't disagree."
I stared at him. I didn't know what I expected him to say, but it wasn't that. I didn't expect him to agree with my fake boyfriend.
"Love is a beautiful concept people claim they want," Xavier theorized, his voice turning cold, "right until the cost of it shows up at their door.
Sure, to love someone and be loved back, that's the best-case scenario.
But is it something you should structure your whole existence around?
Something you let obliterate the life you've built?
" He gave a cynical shake of his head. "I don't think so. "
"And the pain of it?" Andrew challenged, leaning his elbows onto the table, enjoying the debate.
"That's the fine print nobody reads early enough," Xavier countered, dark.
"It's easy to look someone in the eye and say you love them.
But can you survive being wrecked by them?
More than once? Can you survive that pain again and again, still call it love, and refuse to call it psychological damage?
" He stopped, then turned his head to look at me. "I tried it once. It didn't hold."
My throat turned to sandpaper.
"Maybe we should stop analyzing love," I cut in. "It's an exhausting, cliché topic. Let's talk about anything else."
"Like what?" Andrew laughed, his chin lifting, relaxed. "Should we play a game? Cards? Do these places even carry playing cards?"
"Arm wrestling," I blurted.
Both grown men turned their heads to stare at me.
"You want to arm wrestle?" Xavier asked, his eyebrow creeping up. "With us?"
"Not me," I clarified. "The two of you. I'll spectate."
They looked at each other across the fruit bowl.
"And what does the winner get?" Xavier challenged.
"The winner gets this spectacular fruit bowl," I offered, deadpan.
"Or," Andrew countered, keeping his blue eyes on mine, "the winner gets a kiss on the cheek from Sloane."
The table plunged into silence.
Xavier turned his gaze back to Andrew. "A polite kiss on the cheek from Sloane Ty is a lot less enticing than you seem to think."
Andrew threw his head back and laughed. "Please. I'm aware you two share a romantic past."
Xavier whipped his head to glare at me.
I offered an unapologetic shrug. "He asked me. I handed him the truth."
"We share a past," Xavier clarified to Andrew, his voice dangerously low. "That doesn't mean anything exists now."
"Doesn't that tension make this more interesting, then?" Andrew goaded. "A little healthy competition. Let's see what happens."
Xavier dragged his dark eyes back to my face. The muscle in his jaw flexed once, then released.
"Fine," he accepted, cold. "We should compete."
They slammed their elbows onto the table and locked their hands together, and I sat back to watch the testosterone spike.
Xavier held still for a long, calculating second, measuring his opponent's grip.
Then they started. I ate a piece of pineapple and watched the struggle, yelling sarcastic encouragement to no one in particular.
It was a dead heat for a long stretch, muscles shaking, veins popping, and then it was over.
Xavier won, slamming Andrew's knuckles against the tabletop.
I shot to my feet.
"That was a truly incredible display of masculinity," I cheered. I put both hands on Xavier's shoulders and squeezed. "You should be celebrated. Someone needs to organize a ticker-tape parade immediately."
Xavier looked up at me with his chin tilted back, his mouth pulling at one corner. "A ticker-tape parade."
"At the minimum," I confirmed.
Andrew laughed, massaging his sore wrist. "I need to hit the gym when we get back. That was clarifying."
We all shared an easy laugh.
Andrew's phone went off in his pocket. He pulled it out, checking the screen. "Work emergency. Give me a second." He stood and walked toward the edge of the terrace.
Xavier and I were alone at the table.
I slid the fruit bowl across the wood toward him. "Your hard-earned winnings, champion."
"I didn't do any of that for a piece of fruit."
"Then what'd you do it for?"
He fixed me with a dark look. "You know what I did it for. I want to know what you meant earlier on the platform. Nobody's going to be able to pry you off me."
"You're just fishing for me to say something inappropriate."
"You fired the first shot. You can't grab the wheel and swerve on me now."
A breathless laugh escaped me despite my best efforts.
"Tell me what you meant," he said, leaning forward, resting his forearms on the table with his dark eyes fixed on my face, refusing to rush it.
"You should know by now," I murmured, my voice dropping, "that I'm not as obedient as you seem to think."
"I'm aware you aren't obedient," he countered. "And I'm not trying to force it. I just want to hear you admit it."
I stared down at him.
"Sure," I whispered, reckless. "What do you want to know?"
"Did it," he breathed, his voice rough. "Earlier today. When I touched you. Did it—"
I held his burning gaze.
"Yes," I confessed. "It felt like my body still remembers yours."
I watched the color drain from his face.
"Okay," he exhaled, shaky. "That's more than enough for me."
"I'm not going to take it a step further than that," I warned, stepping back. "We agreed we aren't supposed to. I'm just reminding us both."
He let out a breathless laugh. "Sure," he agreed. "We aren't supposed to."
I stood. "I'm going to go find Andrew."
"Wait." He reached out, his fingers closing around my bare wrist, the grip light but enough to anchor me. "I won the match. Don't I get my reward?"
I stared at his grip. I leaned down and pressed my lips against his warm cheek. The contact lasted one agonizing second, and my legs were unsteady when I straightened.
I turned and walked away.
A huge smile was already spreading across my face before I cleared the terrace steps.
I pressed my lips into a thin line, screaming at myself to stop the delusion, and kept smiling anyway.
My whole body radiated heat. I'd convinced myself I was stronger than this.
I'd built a business, formulated an exit plan, constructed a whole psychological architecture to help me move on, and apparently every brick of it dissolved the second his cheek rested under my mouth.
The truth was I was still weak for him. I'd convinced myself I was cured.
I found Andrew at the far edge of the grounds near the botanical garden, his call finished, his phone back in his pocket.
"What happened back there?" he asked.
"Nothing," I lied. "We bantered. I came to find you."
He smiled. "Okay." He paused, his expression turning thoughtful. "I wanted to tell you something. I was thinking about what we were debating earlier. About love."
"You just got off a corporate call."
"It crossed my mind during the negotiations," he admitted, turning to face me. "My goal for this arrangement is clear. And yours is to find love."
I stared at him, caught off guard.
"Yes," I confirmed. "I believe love is a human necessity."
"Then it would be unfair," he reasoned, "if this fake-dating-to-marriage pipeline only grants me my heart's desire and starves yours." He took a slow breath. "Maybe we should try. Actually try falling in love. Both of us. On purpose."
I stared up at his earnest blue eyes.
"I don't know if that's even possible for me," I whispered. "I don't know if I have the bandwidth to try right now."
"Just think about it," he offered. "We have all the time in the world."