The Saints of the Cross

by Michelle Figley

  “Ahem . . .” I turn around and the valet is standing behind me, his arm extended straight out, car keys dangling from his hand.

  “Thanks, bro,” Xander says, snatching the keys and handing the valet a twenty.

  “Thank you, sir,” the valet replies, clearly pleased with the tip. Xander starts to open the passenger-side door, but I stop him with a touch to his arm.

  “I don’t want to go to dinner,” I say, looking up to his momentarily confused eyes. “I don’t want to go home, either,” I add with a whisper. Xander pauses, searching my face.

  “Why don’t we go to my house?” he offers.“No one’s there. We can talk privately.” His warm breath against my ear sends a tremor through me.

  “Yes,” I nod, as he closes the car door.

  We drive the twenty-minute distance, mostly in silence, except for Jeff Buckley’s haunting voice singing “Hallelujah” on the car’s MP3 player. Xander places his right hand on my thigh, and I steal glances of his profile: his prominent dimpled chin, square jaw line, sharp cheek bones—a face classically beautiful, yet modern, and at the very least, completely mesmerizing.

  We arrive at Xander’s Victorian-style house. He opens the car door, and leads me in the house by the hand. He helps me remove my leather coat and hangs it in the hall closet. We ascend the elegantly carved staircase to his room.

  He walks to the bed and sits down on the edge, watching me with his intense, dark stare. I walk to him, my eyes never leaving his, and stand between his legs. I wrap my arms around his neck and hold him close to me, to my chest, and kiss the top of his head, allowing my lips to linger there in the mass of dark, sweet-smelling curls. I hear his breathing becoming louder, and I feel his shoulders heaving under my arms. I realize that my breathing has grown deeper and is in sync with his.

  “Your heart is beating so fast,” he says to me, keeping his ear to my left breast. His voice is husky, deeper than usual.

  “I know. I can feel it in my throat,” I admit.

  He places his hands on either side of my hips, moves me slightly away from him, and looks up into my eyes. I find the vulnerability on his face completely irresistible. When his square jaw trembles with his desire, I pull his suit jacket down off his shoulders and begin working at the buttons of his shirt. I have never felt so absolutely out of control in my life, but I welcome it. Xander watches my hands move down his shirt, but then he’s grabbing my wrists, holding them together between us.

  “I know this isn’t what you want,” he says. I silence his protest with a kiss.

  “Yes it is,” I insist. “It’s exactly what I want.”

  “No, it isn’t.” Xander’s voice is at once sad and determined.

  “Why are you saying that?” I release him and sit down on the bed next to him.

  “I think you know.” Xander turns his face to me, and I see he’s wearing a stern expression.

  “Javier,” I admit. I know I’m defeated in this argument. I was hoping Xander had forgotten about him. I know I wasn’t thinking about him five minutes ago, but I really don’t blame him; Javier’s not someone who’s easily forgotten.

  “It’s over between us,” I say.

  Xander pulls himself up next to me in the bed, wrapping his muscular arms around me and pulling me against his bare chest, his chin resting on my head.

  “I wish I could believe that,” he whispers, kissing me gently on the forehead. “But how can I, when you don’t even believe it yourself?”

  “Xan—”

  “I saw it in your face when you ran up to us at the Cross,” he interrupts before I can mount an argument. “It was a look of relief and happiness and . . . love, even though you were obviously upset. I could tell by the way you looked at him that you have strong feelings for him.”

  “That’s funny.” I try a weak laugh and Xander looks down at me with a puzzled expression. “I’m sorry. It’s just that he said the same thing when I told him about us. He said he could tell by the way I looked at you that I have feelings for you. Those were his words exactly.”

  “You told him about us?” Xander seems surprised. “What did you say?”

  “I said we’ve been dating, and that he can’t just waltz back into my life like nothing happened, because . . .” I hesitate for a moment, because I’m considering the consequences of what I’m about to say. But I can’t suppress my true feelings any longer. “Because I’ve fallen in love with you, Alexander Bartolomeo.”

  He’s quiet for a heart-stopping moment, but then he sits bolt-upright in the bed and turns his back to me.

  “Evangeline Sweeney, do not say things you do not truly mean,” he whispers, keeping his back turned. I sit up on my knees and move around so that I can face him. He continues to look straight ahead, as if he doesn’t see me. He’s lost in his own thoughts. I place my left hand gently on his right cheek and turn his face toward me. I see the confusion in his eyes, and instantly a bolt of regret shoots through me. The last thing I want is to cause him any pain. He looks me squarely in the eyes, as if searching my soul for some clue as to my true feelings. I can’t understand why he doesn’t believe me.

  “Xander, I love you,” I say, and I’m taken aback by the truth and desperation in my voice.

  “You love him, too,” he counters after a moment. I consider this statement and decide I won’t hide my feelings.

  “Yes, I do,” I say, and he recoils slightly, “But I’m in love with you. There’s a difference, you know?”

  “I believe I know,” he replies, lying back down on the bed, “because I’ve never been in love . . .” I drop my eyes to my trembling hands, afraid of what he might say next, but he surprises me when he says, “until now.”

  I look into his soft eyes, full of truth, and wish that my life could be a hundred times less complicated. I lie down and curl wrap body around his.

  “I have to admit,” Xander continues, “that I can’t stand to see you with him. Never mind the fact that he’s my freaking cousin.” I open my mouth to protest, but Xander holds a finger to my lips. “I mean, he’s better-looking, richer, and for Christ’s sake, he has royal blood! He could conceivably be king some day!”

  “Xander, that’s ridiculous. Do you know how many people have to die for that to happen?” I ask. Javier’s logic was sound, after all.

  “Well, that is true, I guess.” Xander muses.

  “I had hoped that you knew me better than to think that money, power, or social status mean a damn thing to me,” I say. I can’t help but feel somewhat offended.

  “I know. I’m sorry.” He kisses the top of my head. “It’s actually one of the reasons I fell in love with you.”

  “Oh, I’d like to hear some of these so called reasons,” I tease.

  “Now, if I told you, you’d have the upper hand on me,” Xander says, laughing; but I suspect he means it.

  “I don’t think we should start a relationship in which we’re consciously trying to have the upper hand over the other person, do you?”

  “Are we in a relationship?” Xander pulls away from me and lifts my chin again, searching my face for some evidence of a lie. “Is that what this is?”

  “In my heart, I believe it is.” I place a hand to his face, tracing his right cheekbone with my thumb. “More importantly, I want it to be.”

  “What about him?” Xander looks up at the ceiling, I suspect in an attempt to hide his disdain, disapproval, or both. How could I possibly feel good about coming between family members? They seemed congenial—downright brotherly—when they saw each other at the Cross yesterday.

  “He’s asked me to meet with him at his hotel tomorrow,” I say nonchalantly, trying to make the meeting seem insignificant, although I know in my heart it isn’t.

  “Why?” he asks. I hear a tinge of jealousy in his voice.

  “I really have no clue, Xander.” I look up at him. “He just said he had something he wanted to talk with me about. It doesn’t sound like a big deal.”

  “Well,
I’m going with you,” he replies with a gruff.

  “No, you’re not,” I say. Then I realize how my abrupt tone could be interpreted. I add softly, “Camilla’s going with me. You know that’s as good as having two body guards.”

  Xander frowns and begins to argue his point, but I place a finger to his lips before he can speak.

  “Whatever he wants to talk to me about is between me and Javier. I’m sorry, but it’s not your place to go with me. You’ll have to trust me.”

  Xander exhales long and hard. For a moment, he stares up at the ceiling as if watching an intense movie scene.

  “I know you’re right,” he finally says. He turns and looks me in the eyes. “I’m going to show you how much I trust you by never asking you about it again. But if you want to talk to me about what happens, then I’ll listen.”

  “That’s one of the reasons I adore you so much,” I say with a smile. “You’re the most understanding person I know.”

  He pulls me closer and kisses me like I’ve never been kissed before. His hands are gently, but urgently searching me, and I whisper in his ear what I want him to do. We’re entwined in one another, and I feel as though every cell in my body has been screaming for this moment my entire life. I completely lose myself, and so does he.

  ***

  I awake to my phone ringing, and I sit bolt-upright in bed, realizing that I had not called my dad last night. I jump up and frantically dig through my purse for the blaring phone. I sigh when my mind finally registers that it’s Camilla’s ringtone.

  “Hello?” I whisper into the receiver with my hand over my mouth. I glance over at Xander, who is sleeping peacefully. He looks like an oversized child lying there on his stomach—he has this strange angelic look on his face. It’s strange, because what happened last night was anything but angelic—although I’m pretty sure the heavens parted.

  “Where the hell are you? I’m at your house, and your dad is seriously pissed.”

  “Let me talk to him,” I say. I hear a muffled whisper, as if she has her hand over the phone.

  “Evangeline Sweeney. I realize you are eighteen years old, but as long as you are living in my house, you will give me the common courtesy of calling me if you will not be coming home!” Dad’s voice is beyond pissed.

  “Nash—”

  “And another thing, you will address me as Dad. I’ve raised you your entire life, and I believe I have earned that title. Understood?”

  “Dad, I’m sorry. I’m at Xander’s, and I fell asleep. I’m fine.”

  “What’s wrong?” Xander’s awake and watching me from the bed. I mouth “be quiet” to him. He stretches his arms out and grins at me.

  “Evie, we will talk about this later. Here’s Camilla.” I hear Camilla talking to Nash in the background: Thanks, Mr. Sweeney. I’ll see you soon. Bye. Then a door shuts.

  “Where are you? I thought you wanted me to pick you up at noon.”

  “I’m at Xander’s.”

  “Wait . . . you’re telling me you spent the night there?” Camilla sounds shocked and seriously annoyed.

  “Yes, Camilla. Is that okay with you?”

  “I’ll be right over.” Then silence on the other end.

  “Freaking great!” I sigh, throwing the phone on the bed. I start to gather my things, but Xander reaches out with his long arm and pulls me down on the bed. However, I’m not in the mood for play.

  “Xander, I have to get ready. Camilla’s on the way over here, and she doesn’t sound excited that we spent the night together.” I try to wrestle out of his arms, but he holds me tight. He lifts my chin and kisses me on the lips. His body is warm and inviting, and I feel myself relaxing against him.

  “She’ll get over it,” he says and loosens his grip on me.

  “I don’t think she will.”

  “She’s territorial. It’s one of the qualities that make her such a loyal friend.”

  “Well, I want to keep her as a friend, so I’d better be ready to go when she gets here. She was not ecstatic about driving me into the city today—”

  “To see Javier.” Xander looks down, then back to me. “Stay here with me today. I don’t want you to go.”

  “Xander, I get it. I understand why you don’t want me to see him. You probably think a clean break is best,” I say. Xander shrugs and nods in agreement. “But I need some kind of closure. There’s too much history and feelings for there not to be closure. I hope you understand.”

  “I understand, and I trust you. I just know that if I were him, I’d try anything to get you back, and that’s what’s worrying me right now.”

  I wave at him to get his complete attention. “I am a human being, complete with free will. Even if he were trying to get me back, as you say, it would take an act of God. Okay? Can you please trust me on that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you,” I say and kiss him tenderly on the lips. “Now, I do need to get ready before Camilla gets here.”

  “There’s a guest bath down the hall, and there should be toiletries in the cabinet. I’m going to jump in the shower in my bathroom. It’s probably better if I’m not around when Camilla arrives.”

  “Chicken! Let me take the heat alone!” I was only halfway teasing. Xander laughs and kisses me on the forehead.

  “Good luck with that,” he says as he gets up and walks into his en-suite bath, wearing nothing but boxer shorts. I watch him until he shuts the door behind him, then I jump out of bed and run down the hall to the guest bath, contemplating what I’ll say to Javier. How will I let him know that, indeed, I do not want him anymore? Xander’s right about Javi’s motives, I know that much.

  I quickly shower and don my dress from last night. I find a new toothbrush in the sundries drawer and silently thank the gods. I finger-comb and tousle my towel-dried hair and head back to Xander’s room. I find a note scribbled on lined paper taped to the door.

  Evie, Have to go to lacrosse practice. I’ll call you tonight. Love, Xander

  “Why don’t I believe that?” I mutter to myself. Just as I finish reading the note, the doorbell begins to ring incessantly. When I don’t immediately answer, she starts pounding on the door for good measure.

  “Coming!” I yell, knowing that Camilla cannot hear me. Dear GOD, she’s going to wake up the entire neighborhood! I sprint for the door, and fling it open. There’s Camilla’s impatient but gorgeous face.

  “Jesus, Camilla!” I hiss as she pushes past me.

  “Okay, start explaining, Sweeney. Oh, and here are some clothes I brought you from my house, hooker.” Camilla shoves a black-velour track suit and matching ballet flats into my arms.

  “Thanks,” I say sweetly, but I’m a bit breathless and dizzy. Camilla tends to have that effect on people.

  “I want that back. It’s my favorite, Juicy Couture. So, where’s Xander?” Camilla eyes me suspiciously and glances around.

  “Just calm down. You’re giving me a headache!” I say, ducking into the hall bath off the foyer to change clothes. I leave the door slightly cracked so I can continue the conversation with Camilla. “Xander went to lacrosse practice.”

  “That’s bullshit. He just didn’t want to face me. I know him too well. Plus they’ve never had practice on Saturday mornings in January! That chicken shit!”

  Yeah, my thoughts exactly!

  “Camilla, what’s the big deal? It’s not like you and Christian haven’t spent a night together.”

  “Yes, but I’m not contemplating going back to my ex-boyfriend. Did you at least tell Xander?”

  “First of all, I am not considering going back to my ex. Second of all, I did tell Xander everything—that I’m going to meet with Javier today.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “Well, he doesn’t want me to go, of course. But he trusts me, so he’s okay with it.” I exit the bathroom and find myself face to face with Camilla.

  “Barf,” Camilla mock-gags herself. “He’s only okay with it because I’m going.�
��

  “Whatever. Come on, let’s get this over with,” I grab her shoulders and turn her toward the door.

  CHAPTER 24

  “I’m going up to the room with you, Evie. Don’t try to stop me,” Camilla asserts as we open the gilded glass doors and enter the massive, circular lobby of the Mandarin Oriental Hotel. We’re instantly overtaken by the aroma of Asian lilies and burning teak wood. The lobby is punctuated with dark-bamboo columns footed by smooth, black-and-white marble.

  “No, Camilla, you can wait down here for me.” I wonder if I’m going to have to end this conversation with a shouting match.

  “Miss Sweeney?” Startled by the familiar voice, I spin around on my heels. The limo driver from yesterday is staring down at me. “I’m William; we met yesterday.”

  “Yes, I remember.” I smile in an attempt to hide what I know has to be a look of terror on my face.

  “Sergeant Cruz sent me to meet you and show you up to the suite.”

  “Oh let me guess, he’s staying in the Presidential Suite,” Camilla quips sarcastically.

  “Yes,” William answers, looking puzzled.

  “Never mind. Let’s go,” Camilla says and starts toward the elevator bay.

  “Excuse me, Miss. . . Sergeant Cruz has asked that Miss Sweeney come to the suite alone.” William motions to the ornate couches a few feet away. “You may relax here in the lobby. The concierge can bring you a beverage.”

  “Listen, Bill. That’s my best friend, and she’s not going up to some strange guy’s Presidential Suite alone.” Camilla’s face turns a shade of red usually reserved for her interactions with Laurel.

  “Those are my orders, Miss, and I follow them.” William shrugs, almost apologetically.

  “Camilla, please calm down. Javier is not a stranger to me, remember? I won’t be long.”

  “You’ve got half an hour, Sweeney. Any longer and I’m calling the cops. Then I’m going to the spa and charging everything to his suite. Got it?” She jabs a long, dark, manicured finger into William’s chest.

  “Relax, Camilla, you’re going to stroke out! I’ll be back,” I holler over my shoulder as I follow William to the elevator bay.