Standing on the rooftop with Xavier so close, I felt like I was teetering on the edge of a cliff. Everything about him was dangerous—the way he spoke, the way he moved, the way his dark eyes seemed to devour me whole. I should have left. Any sane person would have. But instead, I stayed, drawn to him like a moth to a flame.
The city stretched out behind him, glittering and alive, but all I could see was him. His presence was magnetic, suffocating. "You're awfully confident for someone who barely knows me," I said, trying to inject some control into the situation.
"I know enough," he replied smoothly, stepping closer. His voice was low, almost hypnotic, and I hated how it made my pulse race. "You're the kind of girl who pretends to be tough, but you've never been in real danger. Until now."
My breath hitched, but I refused to back down. "And you think you're danger?"
His lips curved into a smile, but there was no warmth in it—only something cold and predatory. "I don't think, Zoey. I know."
My stomach twisted at the way he said my name, like he owned it, like he owned me. I should have slapped him, walked away, anything. Instead, I crossed my arms over my chest and stared him down. "Why did you ask me to come here?"
"I wanted to see if you'd come," he said simply, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
"And if I hadn't?"
He tilted his head, studying me. "You don't strike me as someone who likes unanswered questions. You would've come eventually."
His confidence was infuriating, but he wasn't wrong. I did want answers. I wanted to know why someone like him—a man who radiated danger and power—was interested in me.
"Tell me the truth," I said, my voice steadier now. "What do you want from me?"
Xavier's smile faded, replaced by something darker, more serious. "You intrigue me, Zoey. And I don't get intrigued often."
"That's not an answer," I countered, my heart pounding in my chest.
He stepped closer, so close that I could feel the heat of him, smell the faint scent of smoke and leather. "The truth?" he murmured, his voice almost a whisper. "I want to unravel you. I want to see every piece of you, every fear, every desire. And I want to see if you can handle the real me."
A shiver ran down my spine at his words, but I didn't flinch. "And who is the real you, Xavier?"
His eyes darkened, and for a moment, I thought I saw something raw, something vulnerable, flash across his face. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by his usual mask of control. "Someone you should stay far away from," he said, his voice cold.
"Then why don't you stay away from me?" I challenged, my voice rising.
His hand shot out, gripping my chin gently but firmly, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Because I don't want to," he said simply.
My breath caught in my throat, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. His touch wasn't rough, but it was possessive, as though he'd already decided I was his.
"You're insane," I whispered, more to myself than to him.
His lips twitched into a smirk. "You have no idea."
He released me and stepped back, leaving me feeling both relieved and strangely empty. "Go home, Zoey," he said, his tone dismissive now. "You've seen enough for one night."
Anger flared in my chest. "You don't get to summon me here like a puppet and then send me away when you're done playing."
His eyes flickered with something unreadable. "I'm trying to protect you."
"From what? You?" I shot back.
A muscle in his jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might actually answer. But instead, he turned away, his broad shoulders stiff. "Goodnight, Zoey."
I stood there, stunned and furious, watching as he disappeared into the shadows. The rooftop felt colder without him, the city lights less vibrant.
As I made my way back to the elevator, my mind was spinning. Every instinct I had screamed at me to stay far away from Xavier Alex. He was dangerous, unpredictable, maybe even cruel.
I didn't sleep that night. How could I, when every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face? Those dark eyes, piercing and cold, haunted me. His words echoed in my head: You intrigue me. What kind of man says something like that and then walks away like it means nothing?
By morning, I convinced myself it had been a mistake to go. I should have stayed home, ignored his message, and gone on with my life. Xavier Alex was trouble—Kayla was right about that. I needed to focus on finding a job and getting my life together, not on a man who oozed danger and left me feeling more confused than ever.
But no amount of logic could erase the pull I felt toward him.
I spent most of the day scrolling through job boards, trying to distract myself, but it was pointless. My mind kept drifting back to the rooftop, to the way he'd looked at me like I was some kind of puzzle he was determined to solve.
The day crawled by, and by the time the sun set, I was more restless than ever. I'd just decided to take a walk to clear my head when there was a knock at my door.
Frowning, I checked the time. It was nearly 9 PM. I wasn't expecting anyone.
When I opened the door, my heart nearly stopped.
Xavier stood there, dressed in his usual black, leaning casually against the doorframe like he belonged there. His presence filled the small space, making it hard to breathe.
"How did you find me?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.
His lips twitched into that infuriating smirk. "I have my ways."
"That's not an answer," I said, folding my arms across my chest.
"I told you," he said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. "I don't like to ask twice."
I stepped back, glaring at him. "You can't just show up at my apartment unannounced. That's—"
"Unsettling?" he interrupted, his tone laced with amusement. "Good. You should feel unsettled."
Anger flared in my chest, but it was quickly swallowed by the strange heat that always accompanied his presence. "What do you want, Xavier?"
He turned to face me, his expression shifting from playful to serious in an instant. "I want to know why you stayed."
I blinked, caught off guard. "What are you talking about?"
"Last night," he said, stepping closer. "When I told you to leave, you didn't. You challenged me. Most people don't do that."
I swallowed hard, his proximity making it impossible to think clearly. "Maybe I'm not most people."
His eyes darkened, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of admiration in them. "No, you're not."
The air between us felt heavy, charged with something I couldn't name. Part of me wanted to scream at him to leave, to get out of my life before he dragged me into whatever darkness surrounded him. But another part—the part that terrified me—wanted to pull him closer.
"You can't keep doing this," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Doing what?" he asked, his tone softer now.
"This," I said, gesturing between us. "Showing up out of nowhere, messing with my head. I don't even know you."
He took another step closer, his gaze locking onto mine. "You know enough."
"That's not true," I said, my voice trembling. "I don't know who you are. I don't know what you want from me. And I don't understand why you keep showing up in my life."
For a moment, he didn't say anything. Then, in a voice so quiet I almost didn't hear it, he said, "Because I can't stay away."
His words hit me like a punch to the chest. Before I could respond, he reached out, his fingers brushing against my cheek. His touch was surprisingly gentle, sending a shiver down my spine.
"You should hate me," he said, his voice filled with a strange mix of regret and something deeper. "You should run as far away from me as you can."
"Why don't you let me?" I asked, my voice cracking.
He didn't answer. Instead, he stepped back, his hand dropping to his side. "Because I don't want to."
And just like that, he was gone, leaving me standing in the doorway with my heart racing and my mind spinning.
As the door clicked shut behind him, I realized something terrifying.
No matter how hard I tried, I didn't want to stay away from him either.