Page 54 of Xander

One stern look and the next word died at the tip of Jordan’s tongue. I didn’t want to think of her in that capacity.

She tried a different approach. “I appreciate everything you have done for me. For standing up for me and for getting me away from Henry. But this can’t happen, Xander. I’m your father’s⁠—”

Another sharp glare cut her off.

She let out a huff. “You can’t get angry every time I mention the elephant in the room. We have to talk about this.”

“What’s there to talk about?”

“The fact that I’m married to your father.”

“You’ll get a divorce,” I said easily, though ice lined my chest at the thought that she might disagree. “I’ll help you expedite it.”

Jordan closed her eyes in exasperation, or perhaps she was overwhelmed. “Why are you doing this, and why now?”

Rounding the counter, I positioned myself in front of her stool. Her knees fit snugly between mine, and because I was so much taller, Jordan had to tip her head back to look at me. I wished I could read her mind, wondering what was going on behind those doe eyes.

I met her stare for stare. She was fucking beautiful, and not because some app said so; it was because she was witty and thoughtful, always researching things I liked and going out of her way to implement them in my life. The meticulous detail she used to brighten my day was something I had never experienced before. After a taste of heaven, no man would return to earth and settle for hollow nothingness. She had to see it, too.

“Do you remember saying my name in your sleep?” A wolfish grin tugged at my lips as I recalled my favorite memory from last night.

The rebuff was written on her face in the form of another mortified mien.

“Don’t deny it,” I warned. “If you want to have a real conversation, then you’ve got to stop lying to yourself. There is obviously something here.”

I walked around her stool and curled a hand around her stomach. Fuck, she was warm. I pressed my mouth against her ear. “Did you dream of me, jailbird?”

Jordan elbowed my side and sat up straight. “No, Xander. I didn’t dream of you, and I’m too old for you.”

“Inconsequential.”

“You’re my stepson.”

“I don’t care. Stop denying what’s between us. We both want this.”

“Let go,” she ordered coldly.

I faced her and leaned over slightly to be at eye level with her. “You gave in last night,” I reminded her. “What changed?”

“I told you. I wasn’t thinking clearly last night.”

“Tough shit. There is no turning back now.”

The barely lit room couldn’t hide Jordan’s rising panic at the words. Until recently, she saw me in a different light. I expected some reluctance—it was only natural—but I had severely discounted her ability to drown in self-loathing.

Melancholy settled in my chest, and my gaze roamed her face. “Why didn’t you listen to me? Why did you marry him?” I asked almost to myself.

Regret and a similar sadness coated her eyes at my change in tone. “I didn’t understand what you were trying to tell me that day or why you asked me not to marry him.”

I shook my head and pushed away from her.

I was pissed at Jordan for going through with the wedding. Really fucking pissed. I had pleaded with her not to do it. Everything could’ve been different had she heeded my warning, though a part of me knew Jordan didn’t have a choice in the matter. Henry would have locked her up in an institution if she refused. I didn’t have the money or resources to fight him then, but things have changed.

I stayed away for years, though it had been hell for me. I intended to return after amassing a certain net worth. Thanks to Caden and the business ventures in which I invested my money, I reached my goal sooner than expected. The plan was to throw my money and new celebrity status in her face, make her rue the day she married another man, and then steal her away. It was a spiteful thing to do, but she had the acute ability to make me act uncharacteristically.

Once I saw Jordan in person, my bitterness went out the window. If only she would listen to reason now or at least to my precautionary tale.

“Did you know Henry put my mother through years of emotional abuse before their divorce?” I asked her. “He constantly made her feel this small.” I brought my index finger and thumb together.