Chapter 13

Thirteen

MARISSA

Iwake up with a nagging vulnerability from last night’s degradation. Just the thought of going on campus and getting recognized by anyone who saw what happened makes me physically ill. I especially have zero interest in meeting Xavier. Not unless I want to get violent. And I’m too very tired today; I don’t have the energy.

Flopping back on my pillow, I stare at the ceiling. Xavier is a problem, yes. But, worse than that, is me allowing him to do this, to control me this way. Why do I love it so much?

No more. If I can just avoid him, then I won’t be tempted to do something stupid. Like let him fuck my face in public again.

I feel like getting your head almost swirlied in a toilet while your stalker plunges into you from behind warrants a day off.

Picking my phone up off the nightstand, I send a text to James, apologizing for the way things went down.

James

Not ur fault

U R not the one who should be apologizing…

R U and Xavier together?

Me

Most definitely not

He leaves that message on read.

The angry voicemail from my mother sits tauntingly in my mailbox. After studying for the afternoon, I decide to visit my family for dinner to make sure they understand not to allow my stalker in the house anymore. My dad will easily scare him off. He can spot a bullshitter a mile away. So I just hope Xavier tries something with him around.

Before heading to my parent’s house, I escape to my favorite place, the nearby state park. Listening to the natural waterfall along one of the stone paths, watching birds gather twigs for nests and squirrels hide nuts, immediately puts me at ease.

For the rest of the morning, I shoot landscape photos for a future project. I’ve memorized most of the trails by now. As they pass, a few hikers allow me to snap pictures of them for Choices. I’ll need to spend some quality time editing soon.

Putting away my equipment in my car, I make my way to see my parents. The neighborhood I grew up in is affluent, but not pretentious. My parents live in a McMansion-style house—big, brick, and not my style. Not like our cabin. Oh, shit. Not ours. Ugh…

My car fits into our driveway behind my mother’s BMW. Looks like Dr. Matlock hasn’t finished work at the hospital yet. He’s usually home by dinner but occasionally has to stay late. Maybe I’ll spend the night since it’s been several weeks since I’ve stopped by. Mom will like that.

When I enter through the front door, I expect my mother to be busy working on her latest sewing project in her craft room. She’s obsessed with making accurate historical dresses, particularly from the Edwardian era. The local theater group often recruits her for her dressmaking skills.

“Mom?” When I start up the stairs, I pause, hearing her laughter rolling in from the kitchen.

I slow my steps when a second familiar voice bounces through the hall. And as I round the corner, I stop short. Xavier Cardell is in my kitchen with my mother, preparing dinner. My stomach flips at the sight of him standing in the middle of the room, tattoos covered by his white button-down shirt untucked under a gray crewneck sweater, dark jeans, and brown lace-up boots. His sleek black strands are perfectly disarranged. How dare he show up here…especially while looking so good. Crystal blue eyes greet me as I stand like a statue in the doorway, trying to decide if I want to scream for help or pull my hair out.

“Oh, hey, kitten!” With two long strides, he’s in front of me and places one hand loosely around my waist, then presses his lips to my forehead. “We were wondering when you’d get here.” He sounds so jovial. So normal.

My mother half turns from whatever she’s cooking on the stove. She looks like an older version of me, with long legs, dark brown hair, light green eyes, and olive skin. I was also blessed with her curves and full lips. “Marissa! Finally! It’s been weeks!” Tugging away from Xavier, I skirt over to her to give her a half hug.

“Hey, Mom. Um…what’s he doing here?”

Xavier’s grin turns into a narrow-eyed smirk as he slides to the island and continues peeling a pile of potatoes.

My mother huffs as he widens her eyes at me. “Don’t be rude. We wanted a family dinner with him, remember? Your dad’s been dying to meet him. Get the company plates. Set the table for us. Xavier, want to help her?”

“Sure, Mrs. Matlock.” Mom snaps her eyes at him as he bounces on his toes. “I mean, Mom.” A gasp leaves the back of my throat as he turns his face to me and smiles broadly, then gives me a little wink. If it were possible, I’m sure steam would blow out of my ears.

Xavier waves his arm toward the door, and I brush past him to the dining room. Storming over to the hutch, I toss open the cabinets to get the fancy dishes out. Attempting a whisper, but more like quiet yelling, I ask, “What the fuck are you doing here, Xavier?”

His beautiful lips form a little ‘O’ and he bashfully blinks. “What do you mean? I was invited, remember? I wanted to meet your family.”

“You—you forced me to suck you off in front of everyone last night, and now you just show up here as if nothing happened?” The rage from this morning returns in full force. Perhaps a knee to his groin isn’t good enough. My chest barely moves the air in and out of my lungs as I shove some plates in his direction, struggling to contain my urge to throw them at his face.

Taking each one from me, he calmly sets the table, even going around me to gather some placemats and silverware while I stand like an immovable force with my hands on my hips. “I showed everyone who you belong to. And now your parents will understand as well.” He picks up some wineglasses, dangling them between his fingers. While placing one down next to a plate, his blue eyes lift to me with a stern warning. “Your father needs to understand that I’m your daddy now.”

Shocked, my jaw drops open. Scanning Xavier’s body, I purse my lips, contemplating how to deal with him. Daring me to an unspoken challenge, he raises his black eyebrows to emphasize his last statement. With my mouth tightly closed, my fingers dig into my sides.

As he continues his task, he places some mats on the table. His voice is pleasant now as he asks, “Any particular seats you use?”

I don’t even deign an answer. Spinning on my heel, I hurry back to the kitchen to speak with my mother without his audience. She glances up from the stove at my approach with a sly, crooked smile.

“You didn’t tell me how charming Xavier is. And so handsome! What a cutie. He said you and James have been over for a while, and he⁠—”

“Mom, could you not?” I interrupt. “Xavier is not charming. And he’s not my⁠—”

“There he is! Thanks for setting the table. Hopefully, Marissa pitched in some.” My mom gives me a stern look as Xavier lopes over to us. This is going to be a much tougher tightrope to balance than I anticipated.

“Meh, she pointed, and I did the heavy lifting, as it should be. Is there anything else I can help with, Mrs.—Mom?” Leaning on an elbow, he gives her a bright smile.

“No, you have been so helpful, Xavi. I’ll finish up. Dad should be home soon.”

Meeting his amused expression, I mouth, “Xavi?” My mother has a nickname for my stalker. Of course. He’s weaseled himself into my friends’ lives, and now my mother’s.

Reaching behind my mom, he takes my hand and says, “Wanna show me your room?”

Playing along, my nails dig into his skin as I clasp his fingers. As sweetly as I can muster, I say, “Sure, honey. Let’s go.”

On our way upstairs, Xavier twists my arm around, so my hand loosens from his grasp. With a swat, he slaps my butt and leans in close to my ear. “Now, now. Be a good girl.”

His words strike me like a bolt of lightning. Taking a deep breath, I will myself to calm down.

On the rise to the second story, he pauses by the family pictures covering the wall. Taking his time, he ponders each one carefully, like they are precious relics in a museum. He asks questions like, “What grade was this?” and “How far did you go in Girl Scouts?” and “You didn’t have an awkward phase at all, did you, beautiful?” With that question, his gaze, with a little flash of a candid smile, heats my body until I snake my fingers back through his.

Reaching an old family reunion picture, he pauses for a long while. It’s a shot of my father, his brother and sister, her husband, my mother, my cousins, and me. My grandparents, my father’s parents, sit in the foreground. Hovering his finger directly over my uncle’s face, he asks, “Who is this?”

“Um…my uncle.” My cheeks flame, and I scramble to change the subject, but I’m mesmerized by Xavier’s stillness.

He stares at the picture, the muscle in the back of his jaw popping a few times before he stands back from it. “Were he and your father close, then?”

“Uh…I think so. You mean, before?” Before that awful day? The one I still feel some weird childhood guilt about? Before I went and ruined my father’s and his relationship by telling on my uncle? Making my father sad that his only brother was sent to prison for life?

The one that still lingers with me, making me feel like I’m not good enough, that I’m damaged and that I don’t belong.

With solemnity, he asks, “Or after?”

“No. Not after.” Swallowing, I give a little shrug. “I kind of ruined that.”

In a swift motion, he grabs my waist and hauls me into his arms, then rushes me upstairs. He knows exactly where my bedroom is and hustles inside, kicking the door closed behind us. Plopping me on the bed, he squats in front of me until we’re eye to eye.

“Ruined what?” His pale skin turns red as he spits out the question.

“I-I ruined their relationship? I mean, he only touched me that one time. He didn’t rape me. Not like the others. I got away. Sometimes I think I shouldn’t have even⁠—”

“Marissa, please tell me you don’t regret saying something. That piece of shit hurt you.” Taking a deep breath, he squeezes his eyes shut and pinches his nose with his thumb and forefinger. When he opens them again, they glisten. “He may have hurt others.” Seeming to gather himself, his big palm grips the back of my neck, pressing his forehead to mine. “Listen to me. You did a good thing.”

The intensity of his words cause my eyes to heat. His sudden emotional swings are confusing, and I’m not sure how to handle him. Fear? Yes. But there’s something else there, too.

“Do you hear me, Marissa? What he did was wrong. You didn’t ruin their relationship, and he didn’t ruin you.”

A sob escapes my chest. “Stop, Xavier. Please stop.” Embarrassment flushes my cheeks that this man knows such a painful secret from my past, from my family’s past. This is something my friends don’t even know about me. Feeling used, ashamed of myself for some odd reason that floods back from when the incident happens, tears fall freely down my face. It’s the same way I felt last night in the restaurant…the same way I felt when I was a little girl being used.

“You did nothing wrong.” Using his thumbs, he gathers the wetness on my skin, even sticking one in his mouth to taste it. Then, his huge arms gather me into a tight embrace, holding my body against his, until my legs wrap around his waist. Shoving my face into his neck, I try to stop the tears. His embrace is the shield I need to guard from the pain threatening to break me.

Softly, like a lullaby, his voice murmurs, “You’re not ruined. It wasn’t your fault, and you did nothing wrong. Do you get that? How good of a thing you did?” His adamance does something to me. No one’s ever told me this. Not my parents when it happened. And I never went to therapy. But now, hearing them from this stranger who’s read my diaries, it settles inside me like the truth.

It wasn’t my fault.

And something inside me is set free. Maybe he placed a little bandage on some old wound. I feel my heart starting to change. Toward Xavier, and toward myself.

His fingers grip my hair and pull my face back so I have to look at him. Kissing each of my cheeks, he gathers the drops of my shame with his lips before moving them to mine. Consumed with some wanton need to feel as safe as I do now in his arms, I attack him, suctioning my mouth to his.

Despite the utter terror he can cause me, this Xavier gives me safety within his hold. It wasn’t the cabin that made me feel like I was home. It’s him.

His deep groan tickles my tongue until he stands, then drops us onto my bed, following until he lands on top of me. Never breaking our kiss, his hips pump his jean-covered dick against my core, and I buck against him. Like two teenagers about to get busted, we dry-hump one another, kissing as if to steal the air from the other’s lungs. Pulling back from me, he places his warm palm on my cheek, holding my gaze while we writhe in need. Despite not saying it, I know he wants us to maintain eye contact. I think I may come from the heavy weight of his cock and the tenderness held in his eyes.

The hum of the garage door filters through the room, and I freeze. A sharp inhale crosses my lips as I whisper, “My dad!” With a huge shove, I launch Xavier off the bed while he holds out his hand for me. Snatching it, I giggle at our hurry, and he smiles before planting his lips to mine for a moment. We straighten each other’s clothes and hair, Xavier adjusting his erection in his pants before heading downstairs together.

When we arrive, my father greets my mother with a light kiss on her temple. His hair is more of a golden brown and speckled with gray, especially throughout his beard. Appearing older than his forty-five years, he has a constant look of ‘seen too much’ that doctors get. He often squints his eyes with either a genuine smile, or as if he’s trying to think of an answer to an unknown question.

“Hey, pumpkin!” My dad brightens as he spots me, and I hurry to give him a big hug.

“Hey, Dad.” Breaking our hold, I turn to introduce Xavier.

“You must be the new boyfriend I’ve heard good things about. Xavier, right?” Dr. Rodney Matlock walks across the tiles to Xavier with his hand out, along with a warm smile. My father is tall, about 6’2”, but Xavier still has a couple of inches on him.

Xavier shakes my father’s hand firmly. “Yes, sir. A pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard great things about you. First in your med school class, chief resident in cardiology, beautiful and talented wife and daughter….” His black hair falls across his forehead as he nods toward my mother and me. “You’re a man to be admired.”

“Wow, thank you! You seem to have studied up on me.” Dad drops Xavier’s hand and crinkles his eyes. When I got here, all I wanted was for my father to expose him. Now, after our moment upstairs, I’m confused. My heart beats heavily in my throat as I wait for some reaction. Gripping his hand on Xavier’s shoulder, my dad gives him a squeeze. “I like that.”

He points at Xavier’s chest, and says, “I like this guy, Marissa. Good pick.”

Dad’s enthusiasm annoys me. If my family likes Xavier, it’s as if he’s really in my life. And I’m not quite sure how to feel about that just yet. I need time to process things. Clicking my lower jaw forward, I mutter through my teeth, “Yeah…he’s a good one.”

Dinner’s ready, and we move the food into the formal dining room and take our seats. Sitting next to me, Xavier places his hand on my thigh possessively. Occasionally, he squeezes it in a gentle massage. Every stroke makes me wet between my legs. If I weren’t wearing jeans, I may have left a spot on the chair, especially when he dances his fingers up higher. Part of me wonders if we can make an excuse and escape back upstairs to my room.

“Do you play golf, Xavier?” my dad asks once we all have our plates filled.

“Yes, sir. Member of the Merrick Club. I think I may have seen you there.”

“I’m on the course any chance I can get away. What do you normally shoot?” Dad’s eyes gleam like he’s just met his perfect date. Ugh. Golf talk. My dad will talk for hours with him about this.

“Oh, usually about an eighty-five. Always working on that swing, though.” Xavier makes some awkward laughing sound so unlike him that I turn my head to see if he’s purposefully making a joke I don’t get. My dad chuckles along.

Scanning my brain, I try to think of something I can say that will lessen Xavier’s appeal to my parents. Somehow “Xavier spanked me and called me a dirty whore in the toilet” doesn’t seem like appropriate dinner talk. The more I think about the night before and the feel of Xavier’s hand resting on my thigh, the wetter I get. Straightening in my seat, I stretch my neck to calm myself, but Xavier notices and slides his fingers higher until they rest directly where I need him. And, after our moment on my bed, my original goal of keeping my distance seems to be easily forgotten.

Fortunately, my mother switches topics off the sport. “Xavi, what do your parents do?”

Xavier stiffens slightly and his hand freezes. “My father runs a venture capitalist company. My mother passed when I was in high school. He remarried, and his wife is a party planner.”

Mom frowns with an exaggerated pucker. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear about your mother.”

My father’s eyes narrow as he clears his throat, almost choking on his pasta. “Wait…which venture capitalist company? You mean…”

“Cardell Enterprises.” Xavier holds my father’s stare, then breaks it by taking a bite of his food.

“You’re Xavier Cardell. Malcolm’s son.” Dad holds his knife and fork up like their weapons.

“Yes, sir.”

“Huh.” Dad’s gaze seems locked onto Xavier’s movements, like he’s in a trance.

I’m definitely missing some subtext. The energy at the table is edgy, and I’m not sure what changed. My dad’s jaw flexes, and Xavier continues to eat like he’s blissfully unaware. Mom glances back and forth between the two and then at me and raises her eyebrows with a little shrug. She seems just as confused as I am.

An urge to smooth things over makes me change the subject. I hate conflict. “Xavier is studying business, Dad. He’s going to get his MBA after he graduates next semester.” My father continues to eat silently, staring at his plate, but Xavier grins and runs his hand over my thigh. Announcing it proudly to both my parents, I say, “He’s also president of Theta Rho Zeta. They do a lot of charity work for the hospital.”

My dad glances up for a moment. “That’s great. Sounds like you have a bright future ahead of you.” He dabs his mouth on a napkin. “We done? Need help cleaning up?”

Mom ruffles her brow and holds up her wineglass. “Well, I was going to bring out some pie.”

“Oh, thanks, Suzie, but I’m stuffed. Need to finish some notes.” Pushing back from the table, he stands and barely makes eye contact with anyone. “Xavier, it was great to meet you. I apologize for rushing out.” He starts out of the room toward his office, then stops, tapping on the door frame and turning to me. “Pumpkin, come find me before you leave.”

That was weird. Xavier seems wholly unaffected and grabs another roll from the basket. “These are so good, Mom. Did you make them from scratch?”

Mom tries to ease the tension with a little laugh. “Oh, no. Just store-bought. I enjoy cooking, but baking is not something I have the talent for.” She gathers some empty dishes. “Remember my gingerbread cookies from last year—wait, two years ago?”

“The ones you forgot to add sugar to? Yeah, Mom. I remember.” She laughs, and I help her clear the table for dessert.

“Don’t worry, Xavi. The pie is store-bought, too.” She glides to the kitchen, and I follow with a stack of plates.

Xavier finishes his roll, then jumps up to help us. After the sweet treat, he loads the dishwasher while I wash pans in the sink. Watching this untouchable man do such a normal task gives me a strange feeling. It’s similar to when we were cooking together at the cabin. Like he’s not real. Or this version of him isn’t.

Or maybe my hope is that it is and the other one, the one threatening James, isn’t.

“Well, I better head out,” Xavier says, rubbing his stomach. “Mrs.—Mom, thank you so much for inviting me and for the great meal. I hope to do this more often.”

My mother wraps an arm around his waist and tugs him into her side affectionately. “You are welcome any time.” Then, turning to me with a keen look, she says, “I’d love to do this weekly.” I roll my eyes.

Xavier squeezes her back, then grabs my hand. “Walk me out?”

Part of me has been dying to be alone with Xavier. I never thought I’d feel this way, but I need to understand what happened at dinner with my dad. Plus, the draw to be near to him feels stronger than ever.

When we get outside, I scan the area for his rocket ship, but he tugs me across the street to a black and boxy Land Rover. I guess that’s why I didn’t notice he was here when I showed up.

“This your sidepiece?” I ask with a little smile.

“Ha, yeah. Cheating on the ‘rocket ship’ with this beauty.” Wrapping his arms around my waist, he holds me, but as he bends his head to kiss me, I turn my cheek.

“What happened tonight?”

Xavier narrows his eyes and raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean? We had a great time, right?”

“I mean with my dad. It seemed…tense at dinner.”

His shoulders shrug casually. “I thought we were getting along well.” Puckering his lips, he tilts his head, as if analyzing something. “Didn’t notice anything. I’d say our wedding plans will go smoothly.” With a smug smile, his eyes sparkle, but as I try to pull back in his arms to ask him which plans there are, he won’t allow it. Pressing his mouth over mine, his tongue invades in a flurry of passion.

I lose the ability to think with his kisses. One of his hands grasps the back of my head, and the other grabs my ass, pulling me closer. My clit pulses erratically as he thrusts his hard erection into my belly. Between breaths, a moan escapes me, making him stop kissing and chuckle heat into my mouth.

“Mmm, night, kitten.” With a tiny peck, he parts from me, getting into his car and driving away. Standing in the middle of the road, my fingers graze my lips, remembering the feel of him. His woody scent clings to my sweater until my thighs clench together to relieve some pressure. I’m soaking wet. Xavier is a real problem. I shouldn’t be lingering after him under the glow of streetlamps, but here I am. He holds some thrall over me, something that makes me want to do everything he says. Bend to his will and let him have his way with my body.

With a sigh, I walk back into my parents’ house to talk with my father. Maybe he’ll fill me in on what happened during dinner. I find him in his office, typing away at his notes. His eyes squint behind his glasses as I enter.

“Hey, pumpkin. Come on in.”

Flopping into a well-worn leather chair across from his desk, I wait for him to finish up. When he does, he pushes back from his desk.

“Dad, what happened tonight at dinner? With Xavier?”

His chest expands with his heavy sigh as he laces his hands behind his head. “Oh, he was a fine boy. I just don’t think he’s right for you, Marissa.” He continues before I can interrupt. “You know I don’t like to meddle. You’re an adult, and I can’t tell my little girl no. James was a good guy, but I knew he wasn’t right for you, either. I think you deserve better, pumpkin. I’m sorry, but I’m your dad. It’s how dads think.”

“But why? You said you liked him. Then he mentioned his dad’s business, and you changed your mind.” Sitting on the edge of my chair, I ask, “Is it that they’re so rich?”

“What? No, not at all. Business is cut-throat, honey. Xavier would spend a lot of time caring for that kind of company. I want my daughter happy, that’s all.” He’s lying about his reasoning. I know it. But I don’t understand why he’s being dishonest.

Irritation floods my nerves that my own father would try to deceive me. My dad isn’t a liar. Not usually. Emboldened by the strength I gathered in Xavier’s embrace, I cross my arms. “Well, Xavier and I are together, so sorry to disappoint. Mom loves him.”

My dad gives me a warm smile. “Your mother loves everyone. It’s one reason I love her.” He’s right. My mom is full of love. She enjoys giving it away freely. She’s naïve and trusting. “You have a bit of her in you.” Maybe I do, but is that wrong? To be so open to love?

Is it wrong that I may have feelings more than disdain for the guy who just fucked me in a toilet, then mended my heart in a way no one else could? I feel differently about myself and the world now that Xavier’s in mine. Though I’m still trying to figure out if that’s a good thing, I want it to be.

Standing, my dad walks around his desk and pulls me into a hug.

He sounds tired, his voice rusty. “I want you to be careful. Just like when I told you about choosing art for a major, there’d be challenges; I can see some challenges with this boy. I’m not sure Xavier Cardell is the right one for you. You’re too good for him.” He’s trying to look out for me, but why? Is he right?

Nodding under his chin, I say, “Thanks, Dad. I understand.” Breaking away, I head toward the door.

“Don’t be such a stranger. Your mom misses you.” His desk chair creaks loudly as he sits back down. “I do, too.”

“Love you, Dad. I’ll be back soon.”

“Love you, pumpkin.”

I pop downstairs to tell my mother goodbye, then drive home, giving me more time to think. My mind rolls over everything my father said. Is Xavier wrong for me? Dad wants to shield me, but I’m not sure from what, exactly.

Despite the warnings, I do something rare and make a firm decision for myself. Xavier seems to think we’re together…and I choose to be his, too.