Page 57 of Xander

JORDAN

Xander resembled his father in many ways but clearly had better control of his emotions than Henry. Or at least, he hid them better. Whatever violence ran through his blood, it seemed to be relegated to the ice rink—and the bedroom.

With that dark hair and those piercing eyes, looking at Xander was like looking at Henry through a much softer lens. Henry’s first wife had been beautiful, too, and Xander’s exquisite cheekbones and chiseled Cupid’s bow were all his mother.

A shiver ran through me. Look where beauty got her. Look where it got me. Beauty made people ugly, and now the beautiful Xander had embarked on an ugly road—a conservatorship.

Perhaps the numb devastation was evident on my face because he pinched the bridge of his nose with an air of exasperation. “You haven’t spoken in ten minutes.”

I didn’t respond.

“I have a surprise for you.”

I stared at him, taken aback by the abrupt announcement. The alcohol must’ve gone to my head after the paltry breakfast because I was sure I heard him wrong.

“Remember I told you that there is a clothing shop on the boat?” he said simply. “There’s one for jewelry, too.” His eyebrows lifted suggestively, implying a bribe for his betrayal.

When I didn’t jump at the offer, irritation cast over his face. Xander let out an exasperated sigh.

“At least let me show you the rest of the ship.” The calm words startled me almost as much as when he took me by the hand, surprisingly gently, given his previously harsh words. “I promise you’ll like the shops.”

We left the casino and bar area, heading through the same door that Xander had appeared through without warning while I had been trying to find my way out. This one spilled out into a carpeted hallway lined with crystal wall sconces engraved with various geometric patterns. Then the carpet cut off abruptly, where it branched out into what appeared to be an antechamber with a gigantic stained glass chandelier.

The mosaic tiles were cold beneath my feet, reminding me of an expensive mall I’d been to in Dubai once. This was more Great Gatsby than it was Hispano-Moresque, although the two-tiered arches and mirror-like marble hinted at a more exotic influence than Art Deco.

It took me a moment to realize that the multistory pavilion was actually a mall. The shops were separated by faux columns artfully painted to look like Carrara marble, but I suspected they were actually plaster facades that had been built into the storefronts. I noticed a number of high-end shops and a few artisanal pop-ups.

All the windows were dark except for the display lighting. I found myself gawking at a rose gold bracelet in one of the shop windows.

Xander, watching me closely, asked, “Do you want it?”

“Want it?” I repeated dumbly.

“I have the key.” He reached into his pocket and dangled a key card from a lanyard. “Nothing’s open, but I have an ongoing tab at all the shops here. All I have to do is write down what I want, and they’ll bill me.”

I shook my head, turning away.

I saw him frown in the window, the expression more telling than anything else he’d revealed to me so far. But then he shrugged and caught my hand again.

“Maybe later,” he said. “That’s not what I wanted you to see anyway.”

We moved farther down the dimly glowing rows of shops. The experience was as surreal as floating in an aquarium. I felt a flicker of dismay when we paused again at a women’s clothing store. I didn’t recognize the name of this one, but there were no price tags visible, which was always a bad sign.

“I don’t need new clothes,” I said.

“Are you planning on wearing that sheet when we go ashore?” he asked in the same reasonable tone. “Don’t be proud, jailbird. I’m not going to hold it against you if you let me buy you a few things. We both know that it’d cause a riot if you walked out looking like that.”

Then you shouldn’t have ripped my dress off, I thought sullenly.

I looked away. “You can replace the dress you ruined.”

“You’re going to need more than that,” he said.

“Why?” I asked though I knew the answer. In his mind, I was moving to Canada with him. Apparently, he was as delusional as Henry, no matter how calmly he spoke while offering these genteel assurances.

Xander ignored my question, using the key card to open the door to the shop. The lights flickered on with a hum as we walked in, apparently controlled by the same mechanism as the door locks. I looked at the filmy summer dresses meant to entice women into balmy thoughts of beach lounging and shook my head at the dissonant imagery. Battered-wife Barbie.

“That would look incredible on you,” he pointed out.