She was a work of art, he would give her that, but it was hardly surprising considering she was a model. Even if his stupid cock was ready to express its appreciation, the anger that overfilled him waned any natural response of his body.
“You are Cat’s best friend; what is your game here?” If Catalina were any other woman he would suspect she had put her to it in order to test him.
But if he knew one thing about his Kitten it was that she didn’t play games like that.
“And I love her but I know men like you Xan, you need more than she could ever give you. You like it rough and while that could be exciting for someone like her–once or twice–she doesn’t have what it takes to withstand the fury of desire like that.” She inched closer to him, raising her arms to wrap them around him, but he gripped them before she could do that and shook her, not trying to be delicate about it.
“Why are you doing this?” A deep frown creased his forehead and a tendon started to tick in his jaw.
“I saw the way you looked at me. I know you want me,” she said.
Was she fucking serious? Xan wondered but her nearly naked body was answering this question with dead accuracy.
“I am with Cat; I don’t do shit like that!” He informed her coldly and saw the exact moment in which she understood it was not happening.
The shock filling her gaze would amuse him any other time if the situation hadn’t applied to him personally.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered and her eyes shone with a sudden moisture gathering in them.
He looked at the show indifferently, not buying her swift repentance a bit.
“Has that ever worked for you?” He asked dispassionately, looking at the perfectly round, crystal clear tear that hung on her eyelashes but he was not really interested in hearing her answer.
He felt sorry for any man who had or would have fallen under the spell of these alligator tears. Except Xan believed that if someone was stupid enough to buy the act, they fully deserved what was coming their way.
“I don’t know what came over me,” Chloé muttered.
“Probably jealousy over Catalina,” he offered obligingly, although she was trying to fuck up the only good thing that had ever happened to him.
Her tears dried as fast as they appeared and she looked at him with venom that felt much more suitable.
Again, it might have affected him if he were not used to it, if he hadn’t spent his entire childhood under the scrutiny of a similar gaze which belonged to the woman who gave birth to him.
“Screw you,” she spat.
“We already established that is not happening,” Xan smirked. “Get dressed and get lost Chloé,” he said, and his head snapped up when a single, light knock came down on the door again.
He bent down to collect the dress and threw it in Chloé’s face when Catalina entered the room and froze on the spot.
He knew what the scene looked like; his chest was bare since he was minutes before the fight and her friend was practically naked.
“Oh my God,” Chloé whispered and his hands fisted because it was all the bitch’s fault.
“It’s not what it looks like, Kitten,” he uttered the most cliché words in existence and stepped closer to her, but Cat raised a hand as if to warn him off taking a step back.
He ignored it and took a hold of her wrist.
Beautiful blue eyes filled with tears and those were the most honest and real as far as tears went. But Catalina, being herself, didn’t allow them to slide down her cheeks. No, they froze there, reminiscent of ice shards and he knew this was her way to bury the hurt.
“Catalina…” He started but her other hand shot up unexpectedly and slapped his face.
Her purse fell to the floor but she was too distressed to notice, or too distraught to care. She just turned around and ran from the club before he could stop her.
“Fuck!” He roared in fury because he wanted nothing more than to run after her, but he couldn’t blow off the fight just minutes before the start.
He collected her purse and swiveled on his heel to look at the perpetrator of the whole scene, noticing indifferently that she had managed to pull on her dress again.
“You better fix this or I swear to God I will make you regret you were born,” he hissed out between his clenched teeth, touching his cheek.
The bouncer crammed his head through the half open door.
“It’s time, Xan.”
He knew it was fucking time–the most inconvenient one at that.
“You owe me, and I always collect my due,” he told Chloé and left the room, not caring what she would do.
He didn’t hear the cheering of the crowd, didn’t even notice people. His head was buzzing and it wasn’t due the courtesy of Catalina’s slap. He was so fucking furious he could barely walk straight.
Usually he could blame himself when things didn’t pan out the way he imagined them to be, but this time it was all someone else’s doing and it reminded him the hopeless time of his childhood.
His hands balled into fists instantly.
He wanted to wrap them around Chloé’s throat and squeeze the last breath out of her, and this violent need was so potent it would have given him pause if he hadn’t been so fucking mad right now already.
Xan stepped into the ring and fist-bumped his opponent. He knew the guy but couldn’t recall his name at the moment because it didn’t matter.
Nothing fucking mattered and the dramatic scene in his room forcefully drove the point home why exactly that was. He didn’t just care about Cat, she didn’t just slip unnoticed under his skin. No sir, he was falling in love with her and the truth hit him as unexpectedly as the first strike of his opponent did before he could deflect the punch.
Xan shook his head, trying to focus, but for the first time since forever his mind was not in the game.
The audience roared, or at least he thought they started to chant his name but it all felt as if happening outside of him. His attacker seemed as surprised as spectators and Xan himself that his punch reached its target and he hesitated for a moment.
But this moment was all Xan needed to pull his head out of his ass and focus on the here and now, even if it only meant his body’s natural defense system coming alive.
More punches were thrown, raining on him, but he barely felt them. He knew he was going to feel them later because there was always a price to be paid.
His opponent tried to get him in a half nelson position, which indicated he was more of Jujitsu than Muay Thai fighter.
Xan stepped back slightly with his right foot, reaching down with his left hand to cup the back of the guy’s left ankle. He twisted his right hand at the same time until his palm was on his attacker’s chest. He pulled back with his left hand, pushing with the right one at the same time, but his opponent anticipated the throw and managed to avoid it.
Xan bit back an oath but wasn’t able to stop his temper from spewing out any longer. He didn’t have time for this and the fastest way to end things was to pound the other guy into the ring, even if some voice within started its siren song tempting him to back down.
He waited until his opponent was getting ready to throw the next punch. He throttled the natural reaction to step back, slip or block the punch when it was coming toward him.
That was not what he wanted to do.
He stepped in instead adding power to the knee attack. He was counting on his attacker’s punch to be hard because it was going to increase his Muay Thai knee.
This kind of a strike was one of the strongest attacks one could throw in martial arts. It was not only a devastating strike that could knock an opponent out, but it has been known to break bones and quickly end a fight in a single blow.
Since Xan was not in the mood to fuck around, that was exactly what he was counting on.
Research showed that the Muay Thai knee was the equivalent of being hit by a car at thirty-five miles per hour. If one got hit with the technique, it was obvious they w
ere not getting up off the floor anytime soon.
It happened to him once and it hurt like a bitch. He was not interested in a repeat anytime soon. It was all about the sharp blunt force and the precise delivery of the strike.
He used his left hand and guided the incoming punch to his right hip which not only added more power to the technique but it helped him to avoid a shot straight to his face.
Always a bonus, Xan thought, especially considering the blows he had received already.
With his right hand, he reached the back of his opponent’s head and his right heel went off the ground. He leaned back to thrust his hips forward, aiming for his attacker’s solar plexus and landing the powerful kick perfectly.
The guy groaned and folded like a shrimp.
The crowd went wild but Xan didn’t feel any kind of satisfaction. He was indifferent when people were slapping his back, congratulating him another successful fight under his belt.
He felt detached from the whole event because his mind was still replaying the one from before which took place in the club’s room. All he cared about was convincing Cat to allow him to explain. How was he going to persuade her he didn’t touch Chloé when the scene before her eyes looked pretty straightforward?
He didn’t know.
What he knew was that he would have read the whole scene exactly the same if he were in her position.
Nothing would ever sway him that it was not what it seemed.
The difference was he would have gone straight for the throat and drawn blood. Catalina was burying her hurt under layers of icy demeanor where nobody could reach her.
He hoped the little slap she delivered to his face was a crack in this appearance of hers and that he would be able to get through it and get a hold of his wounded Kitten.
CHAPTER 37
Catalina had never had a panic attack and she didn’t think she was having one now, but the shaking hands and the breathing difficulties she was currently experiencing seemed like common signs.
When she reached her car, she realized she had lost her purse somewhere in the club but there was absolutely no way she was going back in there, she thought, and her breath hitched.
Luckily her car keys were in the back pocket of her jeans and she didn’t think she had ever been as happy for her negligence in putting things in their rightful place as she was at the moment.
She didn’t have her driving license, her house keys or any other kind of ID, and the way things went with Gabriel today she couldn’t even have high hopes for the Lieutenant’s intervention if she were stopped by a police patrol.
Just her luck, Cat thought, and choked back a laugh, too afraid it would turn into a sob.
She couldn’t go back to her house unless she wanted to add breaking and entering to the long list of things that went horribly wrong in the last twenty-four hours.
Xan and Chloé.
A best friend and boyfriend together was such banality and the last thing she would have ever expected happening to her.
But wasn’t it always the case?
People never suspected things could take place in their lives and pull them into something that should have forever stayed on the pages of books and frames of movies.
She knew how women reacted to Xan, so she shouldn’t really be that surprised, she told herself but it rang false and wrong in her ears. Why would Chloé go after him over any other man she could have had?
Catalina wanted to ask her that, but for the first time in her life she was afraid her cool and collected demeanor would crumble down like the mirage it was truly turning out to be and she would do something appalling.
Like when she slapped Xan’s face for example.
She breathed out harshly when her palm burned in sensory memory. It was as unforgivable as it was heady, she decided, no matter how shaming an admission it was. But was it as inexcusable as his transgression? Cat didn’t think so.
Her hands still shook slightly when she clenched them around the steering wheel, but she forced herself to drive as if her heart wasn’t breaking.
When a solitary tear slipped out of her iron control, she wiped it off angrily, telling herself she had a right to this one but no more.
She stopped the car next to the beach, deciding it was the best available solution for now, since she didn’t have the keys to her house and didn’t really feel like tempting fate by driving more than was absolutely necessary without the comforting presence of her documents.
Now was all that mattered; she was going to worry about later when that time came. It was yet another uncommon way of thinking for her but apparently she did change, as everybody was trying to tell her.
If there was ever the time she needed perspective it was now, Cat decided, and the ocean had never refused her that.
She took off her shoes and walked on the sand, rapidly cooling since the sun was gone.
Xan would be fighting now and as much as she was mad and hurt, she wished he would win again. He needed his winnings more than anybody she had ever met, as if he had to prove himself over and over again with every next fight.
She was the one who ended up the loser each and every single time, it seemed.
Thinking about it, about him, was making her feel miserable and since she didn’t deal well with self-pity, her mind wandered off to Chloé instead.
It wasn’t much more comforting, considering all the years of their friendship, but Catalina’s memory shoved a specific recollection at her and she breathed deeply trying to make sense of it.
Trying to look at what she had ignored before.
There was a guy in their sophomore year at Yale whom Catalina liked and it seemed he liked her back since he invited her to one of the parties at his frat house.
Yet the day before, he canceled on her, and she learned later on that Chloé was the one who accompanied him that night.
She said the very next day she would have never agreed if she had known he had invited Cat first, and Catalina didn’t make a big deal out of it.
Although there was no possibility her friend truly didn’t realize that, since they had gone shopping just for that occasion alone.
Then there was a photography professor who kept setting Catalina as an example for the rest class, believing she was one of his most promising students. He had devoted countless hours of his private time just to help her grasp ins and outs of this art and she had found a kindred spirit in him.
He was thrown from the university for having ‘an inappropriate’ relationship with one of the students soon after. And Catalina knew for a fact that Chloé was that student because her friend had bragged about it.
The only man she didn’t seem to be interested in was Gabriel… and some cynical part of Cat prompted that probably it was due to the fact that Catalina had no romantic notions toward him whatsoever. Perhaps she didn’t sense a challenge there; maybe he didn’t look like fair game to Chloé.
But Xan did, she thought, and closed her eyes, trying to look at it from another angle.
Seemingly unconnected incidents but once set together, painting quite disquieting picture; creating a pattern that Cat couldn’t ignore any longer and had no other option but to treat very personally.
Understanding that the person she considered her best friend for years must have been secretly hating her all this time was mind-boggling. The most surprising turn of events in the day that already had unexpected occurrences in abundance.
What was she supposed to do with this unwelcome knowledge now? Catalina didn’t feel like facing Chloé and clearing the situation once and for all.
Not now when she felt at such disadvantage anyway, fearing to hear even more when her mind was currently having hard time coming to terms with the data it already possessed.
She deeply and truly believed in something called coincidence, but too many and similar ones were losing the allure of being accidental, changing into intentional instead.
It was Chloé’s voice that interrupted her musings, t
earing her trail of thoughts asunder.
“Are you going to slap me too if I sit next to you?” There was too much aggression in her tone to treat her question as an attempt at joke.
“How did you know where to find me?” Cat asked instead of answering.
It wasn’t the most important concern, didn’t matter at all for that matter, but it managed to bring some normality into this out-of-the-ordinary situation.
“I know you,” Chloé said simply, and Cat wanted to scoff at that, but how one could deny the truth?
“Yes, you do; turns out I don’t know you at all though. How long have you been hating me?”
No, there was no way around it, Catalina decided; walking on eggshells wouldn’t change the outcome anyway because they were broken and crushed already.
“I love you, Kitty-Cat.”
“But?” The nickname that used to make her smile caused her heart to ache.
“But… everything always comes easy to you because you are a Bennett. A person gets tired of watching it happening.”
“So it gives you a kick to take things from me? Prove you could have had any man that ever took any interest in me? Is that what this is all about? Help me to understand it, Chloé.” Cat looked at her incredulously.
“Maybe,” Chloé shrugged and Catalina did want to slap her face at this moment, so badly her palm itched as if preparing itself for the action.
It terrified her because she had never been a believer in solving problems with brute force, and she wondered if it was another thing locked within her that Xan had set free.
“Easy, really? All I have is because I’ve worked hard to achieve it, not because someone gave it to me.”
“Be that as it may, you work because you want to, not because you have to. You can’t imagine how it is when you have nothing and nobody,” Chloé’s voice became sharp now.
“Oh I can’t, can I? I lost my parents as a child, remember? I witnessed their death, so don’t you dare to talk to me about easy. The sole family member I have left is not fond of me, which basically means I have no one. I won’t apologize for being born into a rich family; it’s like apologizing for having blue eyes. You think my photography is about taking pretty pictures and there is not even a sliver of sacrifice to it? You know how many sleepless nights I spent or the conditions which I endured just to attempt a perfect snapshot. Do you think it is nothing but a bored girl’s whim pushing me to do that? You have money now yourself, Chloé; tell me, does it make you feel any better? Loved? You should have known better by now.” Catalina wanted to get up but Chloé gripped her hand.
CUL-DE-SAC (On The Edge Book 1) Page 28