by Roxy Sloane
Being at work makes the whole thing harder because I keep worrying he’s going to call in an order. They'll all want me to take it, even if he doesn't request me. But I just don't know that I can handle seeing him now. How am I supposed to act normal?
I get back from delivering breakfast to Mrs. Kelly— two poached eggs with dry toast like always— and my fears are realized.
"Nikki, your man needs you." Rachel's tone is playful.
"Do you mind covering for me? I'm not up for going over there right now."
Concern crosses her face. "What's going on? Is he getting handsy or something? The managers won't put up with a guest treating us like they're entitled. I can go talk to—"
"No, no. It's nothing like that. I just need some distance. I have some personal stuff going on and…seeing him isn’t helping."
She nods. "Of course. I’ll take it over and tell him you’re working in a different department today."
“Thanks, Rachel. I owe you.”
"No worries." She turns to go but then pauses. "Look, for what it's worth, it's pretty obvious the two of you are into each other. I know you’re probably worried about being professional, but honestly there are plenty of jobs out there. And it's hard to find a decent guy, especially in Miami. We were just talking smack when we said he was a player. You get what I’m saying?"
I nod.
Rachel lowers her voice. “If I were you, I’d just go for it. Food for thought.” She winks and bounces away, scooping up Xavier’s tray on her way out.
For a minute I stand, mulling over what Rachel just said. She’s right, and Xavier seems to be the model of a decent guy—he's fun and charming, knows how to make me feel special—but all the evidence points to him being El Jefe, and I just keep thinking about how every true crime story on television starts with someone saying "He always seemed so nice."
I can’t just pretend Xavier is my happy ending and completely ignore the fact that he might be a liar, a criminal, and the reason my brother is dead.
To distract myself, I start my prep work early, filling condiment dishes and sweetener tins. But it's obvious to everyone my mind is elsewhere. When I spill a box of Splenda packets for the third time, Carmen comes over and puts a hand on mine.
"Where are you today? Because it's definitely not here with us."
"I'm sorry, Carmen. It's just been a rough few days. I can’t focus."
She studies my face, nodding to herself. "I'm a good listener."
"Thanks, but I'm not ready to talk about it just yet. I’ll try harder, I promise."
She doesn’t push, just helps me put the Splenda packets back and then says, "What's your favorite thing to eat? The food of your dreams. I mean the thing that would be the first meal you had after being stranded for weeks on an island."
I can't help but laugh. "That's specific. Am I in danger of being stranded on an island anytime soon? Besides this one I mean?"
She joins my laughter but her face is expectant.
"I guess I'd have to say real macaroni and cheese. My mom always made the stuff in the box. When I graduated from high school we went to this fancy restaurant to celebrate, and I ordered lobster mac and cheese, and it was insanely good, like the best thing I’ve ever eaten. Comfort food, but…decadent. I've been obsessed with it ever since."
"Well then, lobster macaroni and cheese it is. Wash your hands and come help me."
Carmen is explaining béchamel sauce when my phone buzzes on the counter. I glance at the message.
You okay? I thought you were at work today, but the room service attendant said you weren’t in the kitchen this morning. I want to see you.
I stare at the phone without moving. If he's El Jefe, he wouldn't keep texting me, would he? He wouldn't care whether I was okay. If he's just plain old Xavier, billionaire playboy, then he deserves a response, but I don't know what to say.
Carmen's hand covers mine on the spoon. "Focus. You'll burn the sauce if you don't."
As I stir, I go over the evidence in my head. Maybe I'm being paranoid, overreacting. But Xavier showed up at the yacht for meetings with a bunch of shadowy businessmen. He's always been vague about his businesses. ‘Imports and exports’ seems like code for drug running.
Most damning of all, Eduardo called him boss, the same thing he said on the phone. When he was talking to the person who ordered Eli's murder.
#
Carmen's lobster macaroni and cheese was easier to prepare than I expected. When it finally comes out of the oven, each bite of creamy goodness feels like a hug from the inside. My mind focuses on the strings of melted cheese and the buttery bites of lobster instead of my swirling thoughts. But eventually the bowl is empty, and I need to distract myself with something that won't require an hour at the gym to offset. So Carmen puts me to work peeling and chopping vegetables.
The work is repetitive and monotonous. Exactly what I need. I slip into a trance-like state where my only thought is chopping the vegetables to be a uniform size (and making sure I don’t lose any fingers in the process).
Since it's post-lunch, the other girls have gone to work at the pool, serving drinks and light appetizers, leaving me to handle any deliveries that might pop up. Generally this time of day is completely dead. Guests are either off island enjoying Miami or at the pool or beach enjoying the sun. Why stay in your room when you can be out in the gorgeous weather?
Most deliveries this time of day tend to be for hungover club-goers or couples taking a break from marathon sex. We always take bets on what we'll get. So when Chad tells me there's a delivery, I'm a bit sad no one else is here to bet with.
I'm so flustered when Xavier opens the door that I almost drop the tray. He’s both the last person and only person I want to see.
I’d thought I was safe when Chad told me the delivery was to the villas on the opposite side from Xavier’s. I worried I might run into Xavier on the grounds, but I never thought I had to worry about other villas.
Luckily I compose myself enough to keep it steady and give him a quick, strained smile. He looks almost disappointed to see me. Not mad like I would expect.
"Hi, Xavier. What are you doing over here?"
He doesn't answer, opening the door and gesturing for me to enter. I do and set the tray on the coffee table. Unlatching the lid and setting everything out for him gives me a moment to further calm my breathing and try to think of something else to say. But nothing comes.
Xavier's presence looms behind me. I know I need to turn around, but I'm scared to. It's not that I'm afraid of him, but if I look into his eyes, I know I won't have the strength to stay away from him. His energy is like a beacon to me.
"I knew you were avoiding me." His voice is soft and even. "I'm not sure why, though."
I try to keep my tone light. "So you rented another villa to trick me?"
"I had to get you to see me somehow." He paces behind me, and I can imagine the athletic lines of his body, the hard muscles shifting under his clothes. "What's wrong, Nicole?"
I can handle this. I’ll just tell him that I can’t see him anymore. Even though it’s the last thing I want to say. Even though I’d rather tell him to tear off my uniform, tie me to the bed, and make me forget everything except his name.
I can’t help but flash back on our date the other night, the way he held my wrists, the deep plunge of his tongue in my cunt, and in response I feel a hot, low throbbing between my legs. I have to shake the mental images away, steeling myself for a confrontation.
How does this man do this to me? I feel like an addict wanting one more fix. But I can’t. If he is who I think he is, he’s my enemy.
Before I turn around, I take a deep breath in and out. I still don't look him in the eye, though. I keep my focus on the floor between us just in case. "I shouldn't have avoided you. I'm sorry for that. I just…I needed some space. Time to think."
"Why? I thought things were going pretty well." He moves toward me and puts his hands on my waist. His touch sends a
little shock through my body, and I curse my nervous system. Why do I have to be so attracted to him? Even now, I fight the urge to pull his face to mine.
"They were, it’s just that…"
He leans over and kisses my neck just below my earlobe. It’s all I can do not to moan.
"I get it. I came on pretty strong with you," he says. “But I can’t help myself.”
He plants soft kisses up and down my neck between the words, and I feel like I’m going to explode with need for him. My breath is speeding up. His kisses seem to wake up every part of my body. But it’s my brain that’s the most vocal with all the reasons why I can’t give in, no matter how much I want to. He could be a really bad man. What if he did hurt your brother? What if he’s everything you worry he is?
"Something about you just does it for me, Nicole. You make me crazy."
My body tingles with the anticipation of what comes next, all while I'm desperately trying to fight off the reaction. Think about what you’re doing, Nicole. Think about who he might be and what he might have done. How can you be with someone like that?
I push against his chest with my palms to get some space. "I need to think, Xavier."
"Then think. I'll be right here doing this." He pulls me back to him. He untucks my shirt and slides his hands over the bare skin of my back as he continues to kiss my neck.
His touch sends a fresh current straight to my pussy. My body wants him. There’s still that part of me that just won’t let me believe he could be involved in anything illegal or violent. That’s the part agreeing with my body. Today, the bad thoughts are being driven out of my head, replaced with pure lust.
"I…I can't do this," I whisper. But I’m leaning into his kisses, my body on fire now.
"Do what, enjoy yourself? I thought you liked me touching you."
I'm not winning the fight, and I hate myself for it. Eli was my brother, and this man could be the one who ordered him killed. What the hell is wrong with me?
Something finally gets through to both sides of my brain. I have to stop this. "It's too much, I can't." I pull away from him and walk to the other side of the room to put distance between us. His touch seems to send my rational brain on vacation.
Xavier stays where I left him. His expression appears to be a mixture of confusion and anger. The anger serves as a reminder that he might be the bad guy. That's enough reason to stay away from him. If he is El Jefe, I need to be far far away from him. But I can't wait to find out. I have to end things with him now. I can't keep avoiding him, and it’s too hard when I want him so badly.
"This isn't going to work." Even as I say it, I want to take it back.
He stares at me with his rich brown eyes for what feels like an hour. "What the fuck happened? Before the party on the yacht, everything was great between us. Did you think I only wanted a one night stand? That’s not my style. And I know it’s not yours, either."
Obviously he knows I'm completely into him, so I need some kind of ammunition to convince him I don't want him. That's the only way I'm getting out of this.
The party. His lifestyle. It's the only thing I can use, and it’s close to the truth. I can already feel the emotions rising up in me. God this is hard. Even though I don’t have a choice, it feels like someone stabbed me in the heart.
"That's just it, Xavier. I feel like I saw the real you that night." Thinking about what I heard, what I know, twists the knife a little more.
"What does that mean?" His tone turns harsh. “You’re judging me?”
My eyes start to fill with tears. I don’t want to do this. I'm almost afraid to go on, but I know I have to. "It's like you've been one person with me, but then that night I saw how you are with other people. This whole party playboy thing you have going on. It's not for me."
"Party playboy? Where is this coming from? It was business. And I’m not going to apologize for being successful."
I swallow the lump in my throat and bite the inside of my cheek to keep the tears from falling. "We're from two different worlds, Xavier. The restaurants, the cars, the yachts…it was a nice world to play in for a while, but I can't be part of it. I'm a glorified waitress. Eventually, that will lose its novelty, and you'll go back to your models and rich girls."
“What are you talking about?” He starts toward me again. "I don't even date—"
"Stop." I hold my hands out, and he stops. I try hard to keep both my hands and voice from shaking as I continue. "This isn't going to work. We're done."
I move toward the door, but he moves towards me grabbing my arm. His touch burns. I shake off his grip. "Just let me go, Xavier." I don’t know if he hears the pain in my voice, but I do. “You’re not what I want.”
I say those words with as much conviction as I can muster. I hope it was enough.
He doesn’t try to stop me again. I burst out of the door into the strong Miami sunlight. It takes everything in me to keep from crying before I get far enough away that he can't hear my tears.
Chapter Three
When I get home from work, I sink into a bath. The hot water eases some of the tension from my muscles, but as soon as I'm out, everything comes back. I feel like a bow string pulled tight, ready to let the arrow fly.
I wrap myself in a robe and towel dry my hair as I walk into the kitchen to throw a TV dinner in the microwave. It's a far cry from the lobster macaroni and cheese, but it will do.
Hailey's sitting on the living room couch channel surfing and eating cereal. She looks over her shoulder and into the kitchen. "Hey, you."
Before I can respond, my phone buzzes on the table where I left it when I came in from work. I have no desire to look at it, especially since I know exactly who it is. It keeps vibrating and I stand there pretending it’s not, the tension in the room growing with every buzz.
"You're avoiding him."
I look up and Hailey has her eyes fixed on me. It's not an accusation. I hear the concern in her voice.
"What's going on, Nikki? Did something happen? Did he take advantage of you?"
I shake my head. "I told him I can't see him anymore, that's all."
"What?" Her eyes are practically popping out of her head.
"It's not a big deal. We just weren't a great fit." I shrug and go back to staring into the microwave.
"Don't lie to me, Nikki. I know you better than that."
I wince. I know I'll have to explain to Hailey, but I'm scared to. I don't want to pull her into my investigation into Eli's death any more than I already have. But what else am I supposed to tell her?
Hailey gets up from the couch and comes into the kitchen. She sets her bowl in the sink and steers me toward a chair, pushing me into it. "Spill it. Now."
"I don't even know where to start."
"The beginning. What happened on the yacht? Before the party, you were totally head over heels."
I tell her everything, all the information I have about Eli, Eduardo, and Xavier. Every suspicion and piece of information laid out for her. She's not buying it.
"Nikki, I know it's hard to let go of Eli. But there's no proof that it was anything other than an accident. Plus, Xavier? Really? He's a really well-respected businessman in Miami. I doubt he has a drug ring on the side." I can hear the incredulity in her voice.
I push my untouched food away and rub my temples. "How else do you explain Eduardo calling him boss? Just like the person he was talking to about Eli. What if Xavier is not only El Jefe but is also responsible for Eli's death? How can I be with him without knowing the truth?"
"Maybe Eduardo just calls people that. Maybe he's involved in a lot of different side businesses. But what you're suggesting is the least likely explanation." Her voice raises in frustration.
She's right, of course. It is the least likely, and it sounds crazy when I say it out loud.
"Let it go, Nikki. You won't be able to move forward with your life until you stop trying to find mystery where there isn't any. It's awful that Eli died, but nothing is going
to bring him back, and you're making yourself miserable." She takes my hand and squeezes. "You're my friend, and I care about you. I want you to be happy, and you've been glowing since you started seeing Xavier. I'd rethink the break up if I were you."
Before I can respond, the doorbell rings. I'm worried for a moment that it's Xavier, but Hailey looks out the peephole and shakes her head. It turns out to be a guy from Xavier's security team. I saw him at the restaurant watching the exits.
He leaves a box that looks like a smaller version of the one I saw at Xavier's that day with the gallery owner. A painting?
Hailey gets a hammer, and splinters of wood scatter across the floor as we pry open the top. As she pulls the lid away, Hailey grunts with effort, groaning as more wood bits and shreds of crinkled paper packing material spill all over the carpet she just vacuumed this morning.
“Sorry about the mess,” I say. “I’ll clean it up.”
“I don’t mind. I do get half of whatever’s in here though, right?” she teases.
Careful to avoid the exposed nails, I reach into the box. My fingers brush canvas. Definitely a painting. I slowly slide it out. Hailey has to hold the bottom of the box and help me coax out the painting.
I recognize it immediately, and my mouth falls open. "Hailey, get my phone."
As I type the information into the search bar, I already know what I'm going to find. It's worth a lot. Five hundred thousand to be exact, even more than I thought.
It's gorgeous. A million shades of red, orange, and purple capturing a sunset in abstract expressionist brush strokes; the artist experimenting with light. This is exactly the kind of art I love, the kind that comes from the gut and inspires awe and emotion. I don’t need to sit and think about what the artist is trying to say, instead I just feel the raw beauty and power of the image. It belongs in a museum, but it would look perfect above Hailey’s white sofa.
She reads my mind. "Let's hang it over the couch. I'll get some nails."
