22: My house

LILIAN

We spent the entire week in Santorini before Xavier decided that it was time for us to return to the states.

It’s been precisely five days since our last sexual encounter and nothing happened after that. I had the best orgasm of my life, by being finger-fucked, and Xavier acted like it was just another regular Tuesday. He went about his day, having his meetings back to back and leaving me to max out his black card.

But no amount of new Louis Vuitton or Chanel could get it out of my mind. No matter how much I tried to stop thinking about it, I couldn’t.

And the worse part, I wanted it to happen again, and I didn’t want it to stop at me getting fucked by a finger.

Damn it! I’m sick in the head.

I mean, this is the man that took my life away from me. I should hate him like the devil he was.

As we landed in New York, Xavier tried to take my hand, but I pulled away. All he did was chuckle and shake his head. We walked out of the airport, and I was extremely relieved to see our car waiting. I slid into the backseat, trying to put as much distance between us as possible.

The drive from the airport was immensely uncomfortable. The silence between us stretched, and I groaned out, feeling frustrated.

Moments no sooner than later, we arrived at the penthouse. The driver came around to open the door and I climbed out of the vehicle. Xavier came up beside me, wrapping his hand possessively around my waist, causing me to freeze on the spot.

I tried to wiggle my way out of his hold, but my efforts proved futile as he tightened his grip around my waist.

“Can you fucking stop!” I said through gritted teeth.

“What?” Xavier shrugged, looking down at me as he tightened his arms around me again. “I can’t hold my wife again?” He tugged his brow up in question, challenging me to go against him.

Asshole!

We walked together into the lobby, Xavier greeting everyone good-naturedly while I forced a smile, after which we climbed into the elevator that took us to the penthouse. Immediately, Xavier unwrapped his arms from around me and moved to keep a distance between us.

I glared at him and he shrugged.

“I thought this was what you wanted,” he said mockingly. “I get you, you don’t trust around you because you know what I’m capable of turning your body into,” he smirked.

I opened my mouth to bite back at him but the elevator made a sound, indicating we had arrived at the penthouse, and the doors slid open, revealing the living room of Xavier’s — our home.

The home I haven’t even been able to get used to.

“Great, you are back! I was beginning to think your plane crashed into the middle of the Pacific.”

A poised voice with a hint of an accent I couldn’t place rang out and alerted me. I followed the direction the voice came from and came face to face with a woman I have never seen in my entire life.

The first thing I noticed was that she’s pretty.

Intimidatingly so, if I might add.

She had an air of effortless elegance around her, like a siege. Her dark, tousled hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing a face that seemed sculpted by an artist’s hand — high cheekbones, a straight nose, and blood red lips that held a faint, enigmatic smile that were certainly not aimed at me.

Her eyes, a striking shade of hazel, held a keen intelligence that seemed to pierce through any pretense. She was dressed in a simple yet impeccably tailored suit, exuding confidence and authority with every movement.

It was the kind of beauty that commanded attention without needing to ask for it, leaving an indelible impression on anyone who crossed her path.

What made it worse… we were definitely of the same age grade and she looked so much better than me.

She was standing by the counter in the kitchen area, holding a cup of coffee that I’m sure she brewed here. Staring at her, I only had two questions running through my mind.

Who the fuck is she and how did she get access into this house?

My house.