Page 51 of Xander

I blinked away from the image accompanying his words and pushed at his chest. His body was a solid wall, and the crisp dark hair sprinkled over his pectorals felt coarse beneath my fingers.

“Let me go,” I yanked my hand away, breathing harder. “I-I need to leave.”

My thoughts were running wild, driven by anxiety. And then, lancing through all that horror was the golden sword: Henry will kill both of us for this.

Holding the sheets covering my chest with one hand, I groped the floor frantically for my dress. Where is it? For the love of God.

“What are you looking for?”

“My dress.”

“You’re not going to find it down there. I threw it away.”

I gaped at him in shock. “Why would you do that?”

His eyes darkened. “Because he bought it for you.”

“I bought it for me.” I got up from the bed in haste. The floor felt like it was tilting beneath my feet. I stumbled, and he caught me, gripping me by my upper arms. I stared at his expectant eyes and closed mine in turn. “God, I need to leave.”

“Are you planning to walk on water?” he asked, a curl to his mouth. “We left the mainland hours ago.”

“W-what?” My horror sharpened. “Why would you have the boat set sail?”

His grip tightened. “Because he would’ve come for you if we had stayed in New York.”

I couldn’t refute the claim, but one nagging thought wouldn’t leave my mind. What would people say if they found out that we skipped town together? The circles Henry and I ran were salacious gossips who slavered at the first hint of scandal. So many of them would be quick to assume the worst.

I shook my head wildly. “Please, you have to turn this boat around. We have to go back,” I insisted.

He ran a hand down my back, and I locked my shoulders against the touch, even as my nipples puckered beneath the sheet. He leaned in, mouth brushing my ear. “Surely, you understand by now that Henry won’t hesitate to kill you if he sees you in this condition.” His gaze pointedly loitered on my body that was naked under the thin sheet.

My bruised face gave a warning tingle. The last thing I wanted was to see Henry. By now, the furor of the party would have calmed, and he would have noticed we were missing—both of us were missing. Leaving him standing alone in the wreck of shattered champagne glasses and public humiliation while the society circles he ran in spun petty gossip must be filling him with rage.

I had nowhere to hide. Henry lived to dole out revenge, taking out anyone who wronged him in business. He was even more ruthless with personal matters. I bet he canceled my credit cards and bank accounts the moment he realized I left him. Worse yet, what if he pursued his conservatorship rights? I shuddered at the thought.

The last thing I wanted was to see him again, and I wondered if there was anyone who would be willing to give me refuge for a few days.

The only person I could think of was Piya. However, I was too ashamed to turn up at her doorstep after letting Henry steamroll over our friendship. I had allowed Henry to meddle in our friendship, providing little explanation for my increased absence in her life. There was none that I could offer that didn’t make me sound like a trapped woman in a cage. She had no reason to forgive me, nor did I want to subject her to Henry’s wrath for helping me.

The smirk on Xander’s face widened into a grin once he read my expression. He knew my dilemma because, of course, he had already thought of it.

I had no one.

Suddenly, he let go of me and marched toward the door. “I have to make some calls before we dock, and there is only one landline on this boat. Make sure you eat something,” he told me, nodding at the untouched tray. “I’ll check on you after I’m done.”

Then the door shut—and locked—behind him, the panel shifting from green to red.

I held on to the sheets and tried the door, slamming it with a fist. Apparently, I was to be his prisoner now. Shit.

I thought back to our innocent conversations, the fleeting moments when I thought I might have found a friend in Henry’s son. But Henry had left me with bruises, and his son thought his father’s leftovers were his to keep.

Turning in frustration, I advanced toward the only other door in the room, which led to an en-suite bathroom. It had a marble countertop, fancy gold taps, and a shower that drained right into the floor, separated from the rest of the area with only a tiny lip to contain the excess water.

I gasped when I dropped the sheet and caught a glimpse of my reflection in the ornate mirror. My face was swollen where Henry had hit me, and my stomach and legs were covered in dark bruises. At a closer look, I found remnants of cream smudges on the discolorations. Someone had treated my bruises with ointment. Xander?

Shaking my head, I relieved myself and got into the shower, though I would have killed for a bath. I felt the ache of Henry’s kicks every time the muscles in my body moved.

Closing my eyes, I lathered shampoo into my lank hair and savored the herbal scent of the steam. I didn’t know what seaberry was, but it smelled good, and the sweet luxury of it made my throat ache.