Ice Steam (Loving All Wrong #3) (29 page)

“What do you think?” Xavier asked, one hand in his back pocket, the other up to his mouth as he chewed on his cuticles.

“What exactly do you want to do with it?”

“Redesign. Modernize. Rename. Reopen.”

I continued assessing and noticed a wooden staircase, remembering the building had three stories. “What’s upstairs?”

“Oh,”—more cuticle chewing—“rooms. Two top floors. Used to be an Inn.”

“Or more like convenient rooms for cheating husbands to bang whatever promiscuous barfly they picked up down here?”

He chuckled. “Hey, don’t accuse
me
. Wasn’t even born when this place was built.”

“And what would you do with those rooms?”

“Get rid of them. Make the bar bigger. Top floors could have pool tables, dart boards, slot machines…Will have cocktail waitresses.”

Walking up to him, I pulled his hand away from his mouth, and he frowned at it as if he hadn’t realized he’d been eating away at his cuticles. “Are you nervous about disappointing them? Your fathers.”

“Dad ignored it,” he said. “So yeah, feel if I ignore it, too…it’s like killing them all over again.”

“Okay, before you do anything at all to this place, I want you to take a few minutes and ask yourself
why
you desire to reopen this bar. Is it as homage to your fathers, or just as a new source of income?”

I pressed his hand to my chest, and then to my cheek, leaning into it, giving him the time he needed to think on it.

It wasn’t long before he reclaimed his hand to pull me close, curved his arms around me, and told the top of my head, “Homage.”

I looked up at him. “Redesigning, and modernizing isn’t paying homage, Xavi. You’re basically kicking your fathers out if you do that. Restore? Yes—fix all the broken bones, oil all the joints, polish off the rust. I’m sure that’s what your grandfather did when he got it from his father. Hang up some blown-up family pictures and heirlooms, like the guitar above your bed.

“That picture on your dresser, get a professional artist to recreate that image on the stage’s back wall, signed with your great granddad’s time of birth and death. And if you’re hell-bent on renaming, use
Ole Boy Xander
. Keep it in the past. Keep your fathers
here.

“
And instead of having it opened to the public, make it a ‘members only’ bar. People who, if your fathers were alive, you would’ve wanted them to meet. Let this bar be the place you run to when you want to feel closer to your lost loved ones. Let it be
their
home.”

For a long, long while, Xavier just studied me.

“What?” I prompted. “You asked my opinion, didn’t you?”

He lowered his head and our foreheads kissed. “At the risk of sounding cliché…where’ve you been?”

“Where I’ve been doesn’t matter,” I told him. “It’s where we’re going.”

We remained like that for some time, until a chime from Xavier’s phone broke the moment.

Grumbling, he pulled out his cell and checked the screen. Then grumbled some more. “These stupid A messages getting annoying now.”

“What?”

“Remember when you girls were talking ‘bout this A person from some stupid TV show at Jess’s dinner?”

“Yeah?”

“Been getting a bunch of A messages since then.”

This had me cracking up. “You’re joking.”

He wasn’t amused. “Wish I was. Can’t even block them ‘cause the number’s unknown. Starting to piss me off. Gotta be someone who was at the table.”

“What does the messages say?”

“Shit that makes no sense.”

“Lemme see.” I snagged the phone from his hand and read the text on the screen.

Eye Spy through a hole.

Through a hole in a rock.

Through a tongue in a hole.

Through a hole in a heart.

The hole is a hoe.

Thought you should know.

-A

Chills
. From the tips of my fingers to the tips of my toes. Chills.

Battling to keep my voice light, I asked, “You saved the others?”

“Some. Scroll down.”

I scrolled down over a bunch of numbers until I found a few more from unknown numbers:

A model & a rock star kissing in the streets,

No wedding band, don’t give a damn,

No shame, why be discreet?

-A

____

Hearts to Hart’s

Room 409

Spank me later.

-A

____

Massive Attack’s Angel?

Your Angel?

Or his Angel?

Beware,

She’s on the dark side.

-A

Someone knew.

Someone knew and was trying to tell Xavier without
actually
telling him.

First thought was Xena. After all, she’d threatened me and told me flat-out she was the best at uncovering secrets. But just as soon as I thought of her, I crossed her name out. Xena was loud, rash and impulsive. She wouldn’t have the patience for this kind of game. She was confrontational, didn’t do subtle, and would have called me out a long time ago if it were her.

“Make any sense to you?” Xavier asked.

Blinking into focus, I thrust his phone back to him and forced out a laugh. “Nope. Someone’s just been watching way too much TV.”

Xavier chuckled, stuffing his phone back in his pocket. “What I thought, too.”

My tongue felt like cotton. “Can we go grab a Frappa?”

Xavier watched me for a beat, and I wondered if he was seeing “
the hole is a hoe
” written all over my face. “Sure.”

We went to the nearest Starbucks and were flocked by a herd of paparazzi. But this time, I didn’t hide. This time I embraced Xavier’s arm around me, kept my head up, smiled, and made sure they got clean, clear shots. Even tipping up to kiss him at one point.

That
, was a stiff middle finger to Davian Hamilton.

After leaving Starbucks, Xavier drove us up to Mulholland Drive lookout, and we climbed up on the hood of his Hummer to cuddle, making out like teenagers and talking about immaterial stuff we wouldn’t remember the next day.

I pushed all thoughts of the A messages out of my head. The truth was the truth and it couldn’t be hidden forever. It always comes out. I knew this.

So worrying about someone knowing the truth was pointless. I knew the score before I started this mess. I knew guns would be pointed, triggers would be pulled, shots would be fired, and people would get hurt. Those messages were a mere reminder that the time on the bomb was ticking down.

Therefore, I thought of nothing but the comfort of Xavier’s arms around me and his chest against my back as we idled on that lookout. I made every second count. Every laugh, every kiss and every touch. Every beat of his heart and every twitch of his dick, I made it all count.

Because the lies and deceit were catching up with me. They were going to take him away from me. It was going to hurt like ass waxing. And I was going to miss the shit out of him.

A
s soon as the last two weeks of my shoots were through, Xavier invaded my life with no apologies. He was at my apartment every other night and didn’t leave until late afternoon the next day. Eventually, I gave him the spare key-card so he could come and go as he pleased.

We became so tied and knotted to each other, I didn’t know where he started and I ended. And, sometimes, after he left, I
freaked out
.

Saskia still wouldn’t take my calls, and I had no one else to talk to about all the crazy, ridiculous, insane feelings bursting inside me with color and melody, so I made voice notes, babbling until I calmed down, then emailed them to her.

I was falling for Xavier, and it scared the crap out of me.

After the Starbucks photos went viral, the rumor mill spun out of control: Xavier Xander had a girlfriend and was officially off the market.

They dug, but found nothing on me…yet. Lion was pissed at first that I went against his orders, but after the buzz started, and lots of questions were being tossed, everyone wanting to know who Xavier Xander’s new “mindbogglingly gorgeous” girlfriend was, the companies I did test shoots for began leaking photos with their brand watermarked on them. In no time, it got out that I was a budding model, and I was being linked with all kinds of brands.

The leaks were meant to galvanize Lion into choosing the photo that floated around the Internet the most, the photo picked above the lot and used as the primary image on the gossip websites.

Sly. But Lion caught on to the ploy.

He ceased berating me for breaching the contract, appeased when the focus shifted from me being “Xavier Xander’s girlfriend” to the new face to “watch out for”.

I was insouciant about the whole thing. Only twenty-one and nothing at all seemed to excite me anymore. It felt as though I’d lived a hundred times before. I couldn’t explain it.

Davian was, as expected, livid when he realized I’d lied about leaving Xavier. He called and texted and begged to see me. But to all his requests, I replied with only two words, “Leave her.”

He wouldn’t.

So, as hard as it was to do, I avoided him. He couldn’t get me in a corner to kiss and sweet talk and screw again. He would either break his engagement, or wither at the sight of me and Xavier. Simple.

Today, I was shopping with Xena and Jessica. Xavier had a nice dinner planned for us later at a nice restaurant, claiming we hadn’t been on an actual date since we started ‘dating’. So I decided to get a nice dress for this nice occasion, but Danni wouldn’t pick up when I rang him that evening, and I was left to pick out a dress on my own.

That’s how I ended up running into Xena and Jessica at Hermes, and how we ended up shopping together.

Yay
. Not.

“What do you think?” Jessica asked, smoothing her hands over
yet
another flirty dress.

Idly, I wondered how many flirty dresses this girl had. Her style was always the same. Flirty dresses worked great for her petite body type, but jeez, wear some goddamn jeans already.

Xena commented she liked the dress, but I pretended not to hear the question while deciding among three Chloe purses the store clerk recommended I purchase to complement
the
little black dress I’d picked out at Valentino.

“Okay, I’m getting it!” Jessica declared after much goo-goo gaa-gaa-ing with Xena.

As she skipped back into the changing room, I scolded Xena, “You should’ve told her the truth.”

“What truth?”

“That she should try wearing a jumper or leggings or a tutu or—”

Xena shushed me, stifling a giggle.

“Alina, can you lend me a hand?” Jessica called from inside the changing room. “I think the zipper’s stuck.”

Sending my eyes heavenward, I started to tell Xena to go assist her, but the little witch was already whistling and walking away, ignoring me.

Setting the purses aside, I reluctantly went into the changing room.

Jessica’s back was to me, but she was facing the full-length mirror inside, a cunning smirk on her face. I didn’t know what it meant, and I didn’t care.

When I reached up and pulled her zipper, it went down without a single hitch.
This girl
. I shook my head and turned to leave, but she caught my wrist and spun me around with a surprising force for her size.

I was prepared to fight, thinking she knew something and called me in here to confront me about it. But then, her
mouth
was on mine.

I stood frozen, shocked and confused as her lips moved, her tongue prying its way in.

What. The.
What
?

Immobile, eyes wide, I stared. Her eyes were closed, expression sensual, passionate, like she was kissing her long lost love.

Once her hands moved to cup my face and her breasts crushed to mine, it was enough for me to snap out of it and forcefully remove her from my person.

She held up her hands, a satisfied smile on her face. “Okay, you got me. Nothing’s wrong with the zipper. I just wanted to get you in here.”

I blinked, trying to process what just happened. “Wha…what was that?”

“I’ve wanted to do that since the second I met you.” She shimmied out of the dress, standing in just her underwear, her hard, pink nipples, arrowing at me. “You couldn’t tell?”

“Maybe if I had a gaydar, yeah.”

“C’mon, Alina,” she said, playfully pushing my shoulder, “everyone knows I have the hots for you. But you’re kind of hard to get through to,
really
hard to read, and you make me nervous half the time.”

“And Davi?”

“He knows how I feel about girls. He doesn’t mind.”

“You told him how you feel about
me
?”

“Of course.”

“And what did he say?”

“That you’re different and I should stay away from you.” She shrugged. “But I couldn’t. I usually like girls just for the fun, unconventional sex, but there’s something about you. Something mysterious. And it makes me want you in a different way than I’ve wanted any other girl.”

This chick is loco.
“You probably should’ve listened to your fiancé.” I pushed out of the room before she could spew anymore ridiculousness.