Page 65 of Xander

Jordan stared at me as if she couldn’t believe her ears. “You’re acting crazy,” she whispered at last.

“And you should know better.” I clasped her nape and watched her suck in a breath. “Never piss off a crazy man.”

Chapter

Twenty

JORDAN

Xander pulled away without losing that intense, forbidding look on his face. I didn’t understand his motivations and felt slightly lightheaded by the time he let me go.

What did he want from me?

He displayed no hint of remorse about sleeping with his stepmother, and I felt like an intentional conquest rather than a drunken fuck. In the light of day, Xander had gone back to being cool, calm, and collected. That was before he grabbed me for a scorching kiss in front of his team’s staff member.

I threw a nervous glance toward the rink, which was now empty, minus the two heads turned in our direction.

“Xander!” one of the puck bunnies from the stand piped up. She was a pretty blonde. “Will you sign my jersey?”

“Not now,” he tossed off, his expression barely lightening. His fan’s face fell, and she shot me a dirty look before turning to whisper to her fellow fan.

Xander continued to stare at me the same way he had throughout practice. I knew what he wanted—it was written on his face—and it seemed our audience was the only thing holding him back.

“Get your things together,” he broke the silence at last. “We’re going out.”

I frowned. “Where?”

“Secord’s. It’s a local bar.”

“Oookay. Why are we going⁠—”

“To drum up business. Our coach thought it’d be good if the players stood behind a small business in our community that recently took a hit. Once enough fans hear that we’re at Secord’s, the place will be packed, and then we can leave.”

While he spoke, I sensed his frustration building with each word, all laced with unhappiness over delaying our return to the estate.

Suddenly, I was glad we were going to Secord’s. He was begrudgingly holding himself back in public, and I’d rather keep it that way. My mind was already struggling with the repercussions of our recent intimacy. There hadn’t been a sane moment to process it. Meanwhile, Xander had gone from zero to sixty with a suffocating hold I hadn’t expected. A hazy memory of him wanting to impregnate me floated to the forefront of my mind.

There is no way a twenty-two-year-old wants a baby, right?

My lips burned from his kiss long after he left to get changed, a stark reminder of our treachery. I seemed to have no way out of Xander’s clutches. During his practice, I used my phone to email my clients and contact my bank. As predicted, Henry drained my accounts, canceled my credit credits, and my clients no longer wished to speak with me.

I had no one to turn to or help me out of this mess. Xander was my only remaining client. I’d be grateful for the job had he not imprisoned me in a cage that I didn’t know how to break out of.

Nonetheless, I found myself ping-ponging between simmering in my ire and having gratitude for a roof over my head. I went back and forth between betrayal and nostalgia. A part of me missed the old Xander, my partner-in-crime who made up stories with me and made me see the world through rose-colored lenses. The other part of me loathed the Xander who had become my new captor.

The contradictory feelings seemed to be shared communally. Despite screaming at him throughout practice, his coach patted Xander on the back numerous times. The man clearly had a soft spot for him.

I wasn’t surprised. Everyone was fond of Xander. He had a good head on his shoulders, was mature beyond his age, and had a calm demeanor that made him a natural leader. Of course, he also had to be committed to his new community and wanted to help a small business in need.

We didn’t talk much during the ride to the bar, the radio and the purr of his car’s engine drowned everything out. Perhaps he was troubled by his coach’s disparaging remarks on his play. They had been brutal, and I suspected my being a witness to them had only made things worse. He had gone out onto that ice in a black mood, and it had affected his practice.

I couldn’t help but feel that it was partially my fault, but Xander kept shooting me these heated glances that told me he was far from feeling resentful of my presence. He had been on edge since our inappropriate kiss. I had a feeling if the drive wasn’t so short, he would have pulled the car over for… more.

I shivered as soon as the thought crossed my mind. I felt a creeping numbness edged by something I was terrified to explore too deeply. It should have been fear, but it wasn’t.

What the hell?

Alongside the contradictory emotions—where I went back and forth between feeling sad for the friend I lost and angry at the man he had become—I was apparently also battling a clash between my mind and body. No matter what my mind declared was rational, my body had an opinion of its own.