Page 56 of Xander

“I can’t hide out in Canada forever,” she cried.

“You’re not hiding. You’re moving to a new city.”

“I don’t want to move to a new city.”

I smiled wearily. “We don’t always get what we want.” Like that wretched day when I wanted nothing more than to take her and run, but instead, she chose to marry my father. Since that desolate moment, I had been suffocating. My father may have trapped Jordan, but not having her with me made me a prisoner of sorts as well. It wasn’t until I saw her again that I could finally take a full breath.

“I don’t want to move to Canada,” she repeated more firmly.

I had no misgivings of where Jordan stood. She had been vocal about her loathing of a romantic relationship with her stepson. Somewhere in my sordid mind, I had still hoped she’d fall into my arms after I saved her from Henry.

Wishful thinking.

I bitterly swallowed down my pride, which was wounded by her rejection. “The moment you married him, you sealed your fate, and what you wanted stopped being important. You got yourself in this mess, and I’m your only ticket out. We have to persuade a judge that better business and personal opportunities have come up for you and moving to Canada is in your best interest.”

“But it’s not in my best interest⁠—”

“As long as they consider it a calculated plan rather than a manic whim, there is a good chance of the court approving the request,” I talked over her. “Henry’s still your primary guardian, but it’s possible to revoke it with my appeal.”

“Your appeal for what?”

“To replace Henry as your conservator.”

Jordan jumped off the stool. Her body was rigid, her muscles locking up with anguish. She had an unpleasant history with this matter, and it appeared the news was difficult for her to process.

Accusatory eyes burned into my skin, a sharp reminder that I had betrayed her in the worst way possible. Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill over. Desperately, she fought them back.

Something akin to guilt tugged at me, though I dismissed it. Things were already in motion, and I had come too far to back down.

“My God, you’re just like him.” She pushed the words out of her lips as if they were painful to utter. “You’re your father’s son.”

I glared at her beautiful face, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’m nothing like him. I would never hit a woman. Unlike my father, who sees women as disposable as Kleenex.”

“Okay,” she said, squaring her shoulders. “If you’re not like your father, then take me back.”

“I’m not taking you back, Jordan, so stop asking. It’s not going to happen.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child.”

My expression—already somewhat hostile—closed off even more.

“You know what? You’re right.” She stared up at me like she didn’t recognize me anymore. “You’re not like your father. You’re much, much worse. You’re making me trade one jail cell for another, even though you know how much it broke your mom to be his prisoner,” she said in a shaky voice.

“Prisoner?” My tone was emotionless, worn out from her constant rejection. “You’re required by law to have your guardian’s permission no matter where you go. Or have you forgotten that you were placed in a state-mandated facility for being a danger to yourself and others?”

Something seemed to wither away inside her at the comment, which, in hindsight, was harsh. Jordan had exercised poor judgment following her parents’ death. The lapse in character may have been influenced by grief, but the law was clear on the people they considered a menace to society. Supervision was nonnegotiable until she was cleared.

Bringing it up was like rubbing salt in her open wounds. I could sense her anxiety, her mind racing with thoughts. She had barely escaped one form of captivity and hadn’t expected to fall into another.

As much as I wanted to assure her differently, what would be the point of lying? Ultimately, she didn’t have a choice in the matter, and Jordan knew it, too. There may have been deception involved, yes, but not outright lies, and I’d like to keep it that way.

She took deep breaths, trying to steady herself and regain control. When I placed my hands around her waist to soothe her, it had the opposite effect. She flinched and held up two hands to ward me off. My arms tightened, worried that if I gave her even an inch, she’d make a run for it.

To my surprise, Jordan turned detachedly complacent. I had expected her ire, not her indifference. Despite being in my arms, it felt like she was a million miles away. This moment was supposed to feel like a triumph. I finally had Jordan out of my father’s clutches. Seeing her like this hardly felt like a victory, but letting her go wasn’t an option either.

Chapter

Seventeen