"Holy crap...this is your house?" she exclaimed, her eyes widening as they darted around, taking in every detail of my penthouse. Her gaze seemed to spiral, absorbing every corner, every nuance of the space.
"Yeah, I know—it's a bit small," I replied with a shrug, a hint of sarcasm in my tone. She whipped her head back towards me, raising an eyebrow dramatically.
"Have a seat, and I'll whip something up for you," I said with a chuckle, leading her to the kitchen and gesturing toward one of the stools by the island.
As I plated the salmon, I noticed her attention shift from the food to my arm. She seemed captivated by my tattoos. "How's the salmon?" I asked while casually rolling up my sleeves. Her eyes widened in surprise.
"You have tattoos?" she asked, her voice laced with curiosity as she took another bite of the fish. I nodded, flexing slightly to give her a better view. The intricate design of a skull entwined with roses, surrounded by thorny vines and white moths, adorned my bicep—an inked memento I got when I turned twenty-three.
"Do you like it?" I inquired, strolling over to the cabinets.
"It's amazing!" she giggled, slicing another piece of salmon and savoring it. I couldn't help but grin at her adorableness as I retrieved two wine glasses. "Château Lafite 1787?" I asked, holding up the bottle with a flourish.
Her chewing slowed, and she gave me a puzzled look. "Cha-what? I mean, sure," she stammered, trying to pronounce it.
"I thought you were half-French?" I teased, placing the glasses on the island and heading to my wine collection.
"Half-French, yes, but I've lived in the UK my entire life," she corrected, setting down her fork.
"Here," I said, handing her a glass filled with the prized vintage. "Thank you, but I don't usually drink much—alcohol makes me a bit woozy," she admitted with a giggle before taking a sip. "Holy—wow, this is delicious!" she exclaimed, catching herself.
I smiled, rolling my eyes playfully. "Glad you like it, darling. A friend of mine who works at a vineyard hooked me up with it for two grand."
She nearly choked. "Two grand? Are you saying I'm sipping on $8,000 worth of wine?" she gasped, her eyes widening in disbelief.
I nodded. "It's worth about eight times my rent..." she mumbled, glancing down at her white dress, now stained with a few drops of the wine she had spilled during her surprise. "Oh no, I've made
a mess! I'm so sorry. I just spilled hundreds of dollars' worth of wine on myself," she apologized, standing up quickly, her face flushed with embarrassment.
"Don't worry about it," I said, walking over to her with a reassuring smile. "It's just a dress, and you can stay here tonight. It's already dark, and I don't like going out at this hour." I offered her my hand, and after a moment's hesitation, she took it. "Let me get you something more comfortable to wear."
I led her to my bedroom, pulling out a clean, white button-down shirt from the closet. "Here, this should do," I said, handing it to her.
"Thank you," she murmured, a timid smile on her lips. "You can change in here," I told her, pointing to the master bedroom. "I'll be in the living room. If you want, we can watch a movie afterward."
As I walked out of the room, I couldn't help but imagine what she'd look like in my shirt. My thoughts spiraled for a moment—'Get it together, Xavier. Don't be a creep,' I scolded myself, shaking my head to clear it.
A few minutes later, I heard her soft footsteps behind me. "Hey," she called out, her voice gentle. I turned to face her, and the sight nearly knocked the breath out of me. My shirt was oversized on her, hanging loosely like a dress, the hem brushing just above her thighs. Her smooth, plump legs were on full display, and the dim lighting did nothing to hide how perfectly her skin glowed.
I quickly snapped out of my thoughts and patted the couch beside me. "Come sit down, let's watch a movie," I suggested, grateful for the low lights that concealed the heat rising in my cheeks.
"Do you like horror films?" she asked as she curled up on the couch, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.
"I don't mind them," I replied casually, though I knew from the information Mendoza had provided that Jean had a particular fondness for horror and true crime. "Anything specific you want to watch?"
She hesitated, then suggested, "Maybe 'The Invitation'?"
"Sure," I agreed, putting the movie on. As the opening scenes played, I could sense she was distracted, her mind clearly elsewhere.
"You okay?" I asked, pausing the movie to look at her more closely.
"Huh? Oh, yeah, it's nothing..." she muttered, resting her chin on her knees.
"Come on, don't give me that. What's bothering you?" I pressed, my tone firm but caring.
She hesitated for a moment before finally pulling out her phone. "I think...I know someone's stalking me," she confessed, her voice trembling slightly. My jaw clenched as I took the phone from her. She showed me photos—pictures of her taken from afar, outside her house, and a letter that accompanied them.
My blood boiled. So this was what had been making her anxious all evening. Then she showed me an unknown number that had sent her photos from earlier today—the same notification that had caused her to glance around nervously during dinner.
I led her to my bedroom, where I tried to reassure her. "No one's going to hurt you. Not while I'm here," I said with a certainty that surprised even me. The protective instinct I felt was overwhelming, especially considering how little time we had known each other. But I couldn't ignore it—I needed to keep her safe.
"Calm down, I'm here. No one's going to hurt you. Got it?" I repeated, more for myself than for her. She nodded, but I could see the fear still lingering in her eyes.
In that moment, she needed a distraction, something to take her mind off the fear. Without thinking, I gently cupped her face, pulling her in for a kiss. Her eyes widened in surprise as our lips met, but she didn't pull away. I broke the kiss softly, my expression softening as I looked at her.
"Get some rest," I told her, pulling back. "I've got a few things to take care of." I gave her a small, reassuring smile before leaving the room, closing the door quietly behind me.
Once outside, I pulled out my phone and dialed a familiar number. "Mendoza, I need you to investigate someone for me," I said, my voice cold and steely. "Prepare your team—I'm calling a few others as well." I ended the call, my mind already racing with the steps I would take to ensure her safety.
No one was going to touch her. Not on my watch.
