Page 100 of Xander

It was late afternoon by the time I heard the voice of one of his staff call out, “Ms. Maxwell? Mr. Maxwell is concerned that you didn’t eat much.”

My head whipped around the room, belatedly remembering that Xander put cameras in here… somewhere. Him watching my eating habits was beyond annoying.

“Can I make you something else to eat?” the woman on the other side of the door asked.

How about a key baked into a cake, I thought nonsensically, although the thought of cake made me feel nearly as sick as the garlic pasta had.

“Just some tea,” I said, with effort. “Lightly sweetened.”

I searched the room for cameras but nothing turned up. Maybe it was hidden, like inside a bear, except he didn’t have any stuffed animals.

I drew in an unsteady breath just as a knock sounded on the door.

“Hello, Ms. Maxwell.” A woman in slacks and a nice white button-down entered the room, holding a tray. It was a very nice tea service—cream pitcher, teapot, and everything. I wondered if Xander had picked it out.

James stood guard outside the door as if I were about to bolt at any moment. He hadn’t made eye contact with me since the whole birth control fiasco and acted like I had betrayed him by asking him for something I didn’t have clearance for.

I really was being treated like a mental patient now.

“Your tea is ready.”

“Thank you.” I smiled at the woman and saw her eyes flicker away nervously. “What’s your name?”

“Michelle, Ms. Maxwell, ma’am.”

“Michelle,” I repeated. “What are the odds of you and James leaving the lock open on that door and letting me leave this house?”

“We can’t do that, ma’am,” Michelle said, carefully adding cream to my tea. “Mr. Maxwell said you were unwell. He, uh…” She looked at me and then away. “He said you were sick.”

I nodded, having expected that.

She took the pitcher back, leaving me with the cup and saucer. “Can I do anything else for you, ma’am?”

My smile felt forced now. “How about letting me wander around this house at least like a normal person instead of being locked up like a prisoner? Regardless of whether or not I’m sick, I should at least be able to leave this room.”

Under her breath, she murmured, “Please, ma’am. Don’t make me have to call the nurse in here. She’ll sedate you if you try to leave the room. Mr. Maxwell also left us the number to an institution in case you act like a danger to yourself or us. I don’t want to have to do either.”

My heart careened.

I knew about the nurse, but not about giving them authority to admit me. Turned out that everyone had a hand over my fate except for me. It was so fucking dehumanizing.

Not only had I swapped one prison for another, but this one had a much smaller perimeter.

I felt suffocated and grabbed onto the desk for support. My instinct was to call someone—the police, maybe—but I knew it’d be a pointless endeavor. If they arrived, the staff would reveal that I’d been previously institutionalized, which would take the authorities only minutes to confirm. Then, they’d drop me off at the institution of Xander’s choice. Worse yet, they’d call my official conservator—Henry Maxwell.

Her smile faltered, and she gave a faint little nod before scampering away. I didn’t want to feel bad for her, but I did. The orders were coming from Xander, not her. Who was she? Some young kid under Xander’s employ, trying to make a living.

I looked down at my phone when another text from Henry came through. Xander talked about hating this man, had he even realized that he was becoming worse than Henry?

Xander reminded me of a man who had lost his light but could still glow in the dark. My heart was bouncing between the man I knew he could be and the man he was choosing to be. Seeing the tenderness in his eyes when he talked to his mom or Jasper made me think that perhaps I could salvage his soul. I’d seen the way Jasper looked at his older brother. There was nothing but admiration there. Despite the terrible things he’d done to me, even I felt enamored by him. I couldn’t help but feel that maybe I could save him from himself before he turned into Henry entirely.

Noise from outside made me rush to the window, which overlooked a fence strewn with what I imagined was very picturesque wisteria from the street view. From mine, it was a tangle of green with shy lavender buds that were only on the cusp of blooming.

Beyond that privacy fence was the driveway, where a black limousine was parked. I stared, shocked, when three men exited the car. I couldn’t recognize them from here, but all three men carried themselves well and walked with purpose.

And then a long leg ending in a black loafer swung out of the car, and I saw Xander duck his head, before sliding out. Even at this distance, I knew him; he demonstrated an economy of movement in every gesture, his powerful build showing control in how he held himself back and moved his body through the space around him. He was taller than the other three men, I noticed, and their postures suggested both wary respect and annoyance. One of the men clapped Xander on the back and said something while shaking his head. Xander pointed at the house. At me, I thought at first, except I was sure none of the men could see me in the rapidly waning light.

I could hear the crunch of rock beneath their shoes as they walked up the drive to the front door. The muted sound of male voices echoed from downstairs. Then, one set of footsteps peeled off from the rest, and I heard them go up the stairs before flipping the latch of the bedroom. Xander appeared in the frame, resting one arm in the jamb, the other fisted loosely around his keys.