Chapter Sixteen

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Dominick

Xavier, perched on the edge of my couch, held a glass of red wine delicately in one hand. Dressed in a powder blue sweater and a pair of snug jeans, he crossed his feet at the ankles while his eyes drifted across my living space, lingering on the framed artwork, the vase of flowers on my countertop, and the sprawling view from my window.

After a long weekend of work, it felt relaxing just to have him over and to spend a little time with someone who wasn't a colleague.

Although we did have some business to get down to later. But that would all come in good time.

"Is your place in New York like this?" he asked, turning back to me. I was relaxing in a mid-century modern lounge chair across from him, with my own glass of wine dangling from my hand.

"Pretty close," I answered. "Although this chair is the only thing I had shipped. The rest I left for the person subletting my loft."

He pursed his lips together, distracting me with how pink they were. "You're not worried about some stranger ruining your stuff?"

I shook my head. "Not at all. It can all be replaced, and he's a friend of a friend, in town for business from Germany. I'm pretty sure he's neater than I am."

Xavier laughed, his voice chiming across my apartment and reminding me how empty the place had been since I moved in. "I can't imagine a place neater than this."

"I have a cleaner who comes twice a week," I clarified. "What's your house like? Based on the shop, I'm imagining lots of antiques, old collectibles filling the shelves, that kind of thing."

"You're not totally wrong. Most of it was my father's, though. I guess that's why I'm more protective of my things than you are."

I nodded, glancing around the place again. "It's a little sterile, I admit."

"Oh no," Xavier said quickly, hurrying to correct himself. "I didn't mean it like it was a bad thing."

"I didn't take it that way," I assured him. I couldn't help but smile when he got all flustered and waved his delicate hands in the air. "If I had inherited a house full of things from my father, I probably would think of my home differently. As it is, this is pretty much just a place for me to rest and recuperate before I go back to work."

Xavier scrunched up his face, sending another surge of desire through my body. For how sexy he was, I was fairly confident he had no idea what his mannerisms and nervous expressions did to me. "You never mention your family," he said hesitantly. "I know your grandfather lives outside of Denver, but are your parents here, too?"

I took another drink from my wine, then set the glass on the table. "My parents died when I was very young," I explained with a steady voice. "My grandparents raised me."

"Oh," he said softly. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine. I barely remember them, and my grandparents gave me a loving home. Of course I wish my parents were still around, but I was lucky to grow up in the family I did have."

Xavier nodded. "My mother died when I was young, too."

A silence spread across the apartment while a few clouds drifted across the sun, lowering in the early evening sky. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, like I usually received when I talked about my family. It was the silence that two people who understood each other could share.

Once the moment passed, I lifted my glass in the air. "To appreciating what we have."

Xavier looked up, catching my eye with his hazel gaze, and lifted his own glass. "Exactly."

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