She kept driving herself insane since the previous night when she woke up at three a.m. and hadn’t been able to go back to sleep.
She counted at least a dozen reasons why she should stay put instead of going to meet up with this Xan because really, what did she know about the guy beside the name, which probably wasn’t a real one to begin with?
The man was practically a criminal; living on the outskirts of law in the best case scenario, which–one way or another–was making him the least desirable companion for someone like her.
He was also the very same male who acted somewhat pitilessly toward her, unapologetically taking something that belonged to her and then leaving her without any choice and much hope she would ever get it back.
Fine, perhaps she should have been more subtle about the whole subject of pictures and left as soon as she got what she went there for, but she did nothing that warranted landing on the receiving end of his rudeness.
People simply didn’t treat Catalina Bennett mercilessly; this one was utterly on him, she decided.
Yet, as much as it was unacceptable and unheard of, it was also strangely exhilarating at the same time.
She shook her head, surprised at the route her mind seemed determined to take.
She should have ignored his not-so-subtle challenge and order tightly wrapped in one nasty package and stay away from him. The whole reason why she had found herself on the scene of the underground fighting was safely placed in one of her drawers, leaving him with nothing but an empty memory card while she was the one who fled the club with the full one nicely tucked in her jeans’ pocket.
She could imagine his anger and frustration when he understood the situation hadn’t turned out the way he thought it would. Some part of her–the part that was all Cat and had always been ready to rebel against rules–urged her to laugh and celebrate her small victory over someone who didn’t even take her seriously.
Catalina however, felt a healthy dose of apprehension at the thought of playing with someone for whom failure apparently was not even an option.
She sighed softly, ridiculously conscious of the pros and cons of the meet, knowing she was going to make the appearance regardless because, as much as she didn’t care about the empty memory card, she cared great deal about her Canon.
She was not sure what was it about Xan or the situation that was making her act so out of character, but she was about to find out, she thought critically looking at her wardrobe.
She took meticulous care with finding just the right outfit because no matter the circumstances, the proper attire was kind of a weapon. One she had wielded well since she learned how to walk.
And something told her she was going to need every tool at her disposal to deal with a man like Xan.
When she parked her car before the Monsoon Café she was not only frustrated. She was also annoyed and nervous and it was not the kind of nervous where she would have butterflies of excitement fluttering in her stomach.
This was the kind that came with an acrid taste coating her tongue and a film of real apprehension clinging to her skin.
Dread was not something she was comfortable with. But whatever the situation and emotions involved they were not to be shown on the surface, hidden like a dirty secret within instead.
So she tried her best to do so.
She pressed her hand to her unsettled stomach not able to fully comprehend where all those nerves were sprouting from. Catalina had to remind herself yet again that, theoretically speaking, she was the one who had the upper hand in this uncommon situation. Her mind knew it, but she refused to listen to the voice of reason anyway.
She stepped out of her car, looking around at the crowded parking lot, absurdly glad that Xan chose an ordinary place like the café for their meeting. It should have reassured her she was safe but some voice, currently occupying her head, kept urging her to turn around and drive back home before she would got more than she bargained for.
She had the exact same feeling of being out of her depth just like that fateful night at the Cul-de-sac. The recollection, instead of making her flee instantly, spurred her to take a few steps forward instead and she entered the bistro.
The place was jammed just like the cars outside suggested, yet her eyes inevitably landed on Xan as if he were the only person in the whole place.
He was occupying one of the tables in the corner but his eyes were riveted to the window and focused on the outer world. Her first thought was that he would probably prefer to be elsewhere at the moment just like her, and for one nerve-wracking second she was not sure whether she was relieved or more worried to see him awaiting her.
For some reason these deliberations filled her with some kind of sadness and it was when his head snapped up, his eyes narrowed and his gaze solely focused on her.
Cat swallowed audibly, deeply regretting going against her screaming instinct, and entered the café, which in her eyes changed into a minefield covered with all types of lethal traps.
Yet she walked closer and took a seat in front of him without waiting for his dubious invitation.
She was surprised that she didn’t stumble on her way toward the table because there was something very dark in his bright eyes, something that was making her forget about the elusive safety of the crowd.
Especially after she remembered the last time the audience did her no good.
“Hello, it’s noon on Tuesday and here I am. Where is my camera?” The cool meaningless smile she offered him was a mirror reflection of the one Florence Bennett had reserved for people who were prone to cause trouble.
Catalina wished she had her grandmother’s self-confidence as well, but apparently today was one of these days when she was left completely on her own.
***
Xan’s temper hadn’t cooled off throughout the night. On the contrary, it seemed to be more volatile than before and he was surprised he didn’t undergo a spontaneous combustion.
No matter how idiotic the idea was he felt like teetering on the very edge of his control and when he looked at himself in the mirror this morning he could have sworn he saw his old man’s face there instead of his own.
It rocked him to his core.
He had done everything in his power to free himself from the influence that person could have on him and the mere idea he was following in his father’s dearest footsteps was causing him to break into a cold sweat. But he knew better than to deny the fact that his outbursts of anger were inherited from Robert Thorpe.
The only but fundamental difference was how they were dealing with it.
He had never deliberately hurt innocents, while his father was getting his rocks off on causing pain and misery wherever he went, Xan thought and forced himself to release the white-knuckled grip he had on the glass of water he had ordered and was pretending to drink now.
He would have preferred it to be a glass of perfectly aged smoky whiskey or a shot of iced vodka.
Too bad he didn’t drink either.
He wasn’t a happy camper while he sat awaiting the woman, assuming she was going to make an appearance in the first place, Xan wondered for a hundredth time. At least it felt like he didn’t consider anything else besides that, he mocked himself.
He kept racking his brain but he couldn’t find a non-threatening reason for her to snap pictures in the first place. Neither an undercover cop nor a journalist bode particularly well for the club or for him personally. Yet whatever the purpose behind the shots was, the club hadn’t been raided, and nobody had knocked on his door either.
Nobody except Isis, but he was not going there, Xan decided.
This Catalina person seemingly got all that she had come for from the underground club. She had no reason to show up today. No reason apart from her camera, he thought. He ignored her distress before but now it was the only hope he clung to for seeing her again.
And when he finally unglued his gaze from the view behind the window his eyes landed on the woman as if he beckoned h
er with his will alone.
His first thought was correct, Xan reaffirmed, the primness was a part of her just like that night at the club, along with nervousness that could be seen only in the restlessness of her gaze belying the coolness she tried to display there.
Something seemed to shatter in her eyes when her gaze landed on him but she blinked and he decided that he might have been mistaken.
She wore a dress in a joyful yellow hue, giving her blond hair additional shine as the sun would. And he was right yet again–her hair was long, reaching nearly to the middle of her back even braided neatly as it was.
Xan decided that some people had to be born this way because it was impossible to pull off this kind of tidiness as naturally as she seemed to own it. He smirked when she tried to appear tough and attempted to take control of the situation while looking down her perfect patrician nose.
He intended not only to score in this round, he planned to win in the damn skirmish and send the princess crying home. Pulling punches gave people a false idea he was not serious while he meant nothing but business.
“Are you done, Doll?” He asked, looking at her with an equal coolness she was measuring him with. Except his was the real deal and not only an outer shell of a false bravado.
He leaned forward pinning her to the spot with the fierceness of his gaze alone.
Catalina’s mind went blank for an instant but then she decided to take a page from Florence Bennett’s book and wrap herself in her grandmother’s typical haughtiness.
“I have a name… Xan. Is it a short version of…?” She paused already remembering from the previous, less than pleasant, experience he was not going to grace her with an answer.
“It is what it is.” He didn’t take his eyes off her, not going to let her sway from the subject of stupidity of her actions. “I want the pictures. Every. Single. One. Of. Them.” He emphasized each word in case she didn’t grasp how serious he was before.
Catalina had thought him merciless that night at the club and blamed some part of it on being high on adrenaline after the fight. Now she understood it was nothing but a wishful thinking on her part.
He still looked harsh and uninviting in the daylight, maybe even more so. It would be foolish to search for any hint of softness in someone of his ilk, Cat decided. Not that she was ever going to make this kind of mistake.
Her eyes took in rough features of his face, the unforgiving line of his lips. A slight deformity on his nose was sending a loud and clear message it had been broken at one point or another and didn’t heal properly in one hundred percent.
Occupational hazard, she supposed.
All those qualities were painting a picture of an uncompromising and a brutal fighter yet she was still taken aback by his hostile attitude, especially since she didn’t feel any of her actions deserved this kind of a treatment.
“I will be happy to give you a copy, but they are an important part of my exhibition,” she told him calmly.
“Exhibition?” He looked at her as if the word was unfamiliar for him and maybe it was, Cat thought and became instantly ashamed of the stereotyped way of thinking which had never been her way of looking at people and things.
Yet for some reason, he was calling forth all her worst traits. Sadly she was afraid she was evoking exactly the same reaction in him.
“That’s what I said,” she agreed, trying not to notice the clenching of his jaw as if he were barely stopping himself from hurling at her a whole litany of profanities.
“What did you do with them?” Xan demanded, unwilling to believe she was serious.
All of a sudden he would rather she played some kind of game with him, trying to draw him into a trap. Not that this option was off the table just yet, but she seemed strangely honest in ways he had zero experience with and could hardly comprehend.
“They are going to be staged in a gallery soon. The display’s subject regards the unknown life of Santa Monica.” Cat informed him quietly, truthfully.
She didn’t dare to ask him about the part that interested her personally; what made people engage themselves in dangerous and possibly illegal activities like that? He didn’t seem inclined to give her any answers utterly focused on demanding his own instead.
“Are you fucking kidding me? A fight club is the best what you could come up with?! Give me a break! There is a reason we don’t advertise ourselves for Christ’s sake! If something is supposedly unknown, it is more than likely it should stay this way. Do you have any idea about the shit you are about to stir? Of course not, because you are not a part of this world! And it is for a reason! But why would you give a fuck, right?” He bit out, drilling her with a look that was meant to make her squirm.
And it was starting to work, Catalina thought, rendered speechless in the face of accusations and curses hurled her way.
Xan wanted to shake the woman sitting in front of him. She seemed so calm and careless, the way only a rich person could be, unaware or more likely uninterested in whose lives were going to get ruined in the process.
Worse, she didn’t seem to realize she was placing herself square in the middle of danger. As much as the latter was not his business, he cared about the threat she posed since it was his ass on the line, he thought.
He couldn’t believe she was serious, but then her reasons were so idiotic nobody could have made them up. He simply couldn’t wrap his head around it and when he swallowed the first wave of bewilderment his anger only skyrocketed and he was ready to ridicule her further, to blast her with some reality check.
He should have been getting his pound of flesh and kicking ass on training instead of wasting time and breath on her, he raged inwardly.
Catalina wondered what was it about her that led people to believe she was nothing more than a pretty ornament not capable of so much as feeling or thinking on her own. Why had she expected he could be any different? She wondered dumbfounded anew by his reaction and viciousness both.
Granted, she didn’t know the first thing about this virtual stranger yet she had expected a little more flexible perspective from someone who was crossing lines himself. He hadn’t taken her seriously from the moment he had laid his eyes on her and from that point on his attitude toward her had only been soaring further south.
The coldness emanating from him made her want to wrap her arms around herself in a protective gesture. She knew everything about coldness, but while hers was supposed to mask her real feelings from the outside world, his seemed to be built of prickly anger and pitilessness.
He was trying to intimidate her with his whole demeanor. His words were offensive to say the least and his contempt was evident in the flaring of his nostrils.
Enough was enough, Catalina decided straightening her back even more, surprised her spine didn’t snap under the strain.
CHAPTER 6
Xan was opening his mouth, ready to spew more arguments pointing out her thoughtlessness and throw a few threats for a good measure when something burned bright and hot in her blue eyes.
He tilted his head to the left, surprised to recognize a flash of temper in her gaze, curious now what she had to say for herself.
“Contrary to your belief, I am not a dimwit. I would have never used those pictures without working on them first.” The tone of her voice dropped several degrees and could rival the coldest of places found on the face of Earth, he thought.
But she was not done.
“The subject was not of my choice, it was a very specific job offer I simply chose to accept. The snapshots are dimmed and blurred. You can rest easy because your face can’t be recognized. That was not the point, but I doubt you could understand the nuances and specifics of my job. That’s right–I said a job. I do have one, and make no mistake Xan, I am a professional.” Cat’s lips curved into a mocking line in the answer to the condescending look he was giving her. “I do give a fuck. Want to see just how much?” She reached for the manila envelope she carried with her not waiting or caring about his
reply.
Her hands were shaking a tad when she took out a few pictures and pushed them toward him.
“Don’t bother, these are just copies.” She informed him in case he thought her to be so dumb she would have actually handed him over the originals. “I came here today to reassure you that you have nothing to worry about as far as the pictures are concerned. That, and to get my camera back. Can we please move on to the second part now?” She arched a brow trying to maintain her icy façade while her insides were set ablaze.
Catalina regretted her little outburst as fast as the words poured out of her mouth but it was too late to halt any of it as well as the swear word she used to paraphrase him. It was not that she was too prim and proper to utter profanities. She simply believed that there were many other ways to express one’s emotions.
Yet if she was completely honest, she couldn’t bring herself to feel the usual stings of remorse. But the fact he was just sitting and accepting her tirade calmly for a change took some of the wind out of her sails.
“Could I please get my camera back now?” She asked, not knowing what more to say because he was looking at her as if he saw her for the first time in life.
Xan skimmed his gaze over her, taking in her flushed cheeks and the fire in her blue eyes that were much darker now due to the heightened emotions she presented. He was surprised to discover the porcelain doll was capable of giving back as good as she got when push came to shove.
He was astonished alright, but not as much as by the spark of interest it inspired in him.
At this moment he didn’t care about the pictures he had yet to gaze at, curious more about imagining her reactions under far different circumstances. If all that was not enough, he found that her little flare-up caused his own temper to level out somewhat.
She cleared her throat delicately and he understood he was just sitting there like a jerk staring at her, which apparently made her highly uncomfortable. Perhaps her visible abashment would cause him to chuckle if he weren’t as perplexed about his own reaction as he was.
CUL-DE-SAC (On The Edge Book 1) Page 5