Page 157 of Detectives in Love

Xavier shifts in front of me, blocking Ernest’s view—probably very aware I’m still hard, though that’s fading fast now.

“Were you born in a cave, Uncle?” Xavier says, a little sharp. I can see the side of his face and neck burning red. “Ever heard of knocking?”

“Your lock is broken.”

“How about calling ahead?”

“You ignore my calls,” Ernest replies, nose slightly up, lips curled with faint distaste. “I heard about the attack. You can imagine my concern.”

“How did you hear about it?” Xavier asks, crossing his arms. “I thought we got rid of all your bugs.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ernest says, voice flat. “I’m just glad to see you’re still alive.”

There’s a long, awkward pause. Then Xavier says, voice dry, “Did you get fired or something? You’ve been around a lot lately.”

“I can’t get fired from my own company.” Ernest’s mouth tightens. “Now, can we speak for a moment?”

“We are speaking,” Xavier says.

“Alone. With Newton.”

“I’ll go,” I say, already starting to move—but Xavier slides an arm in front of me, stopping me where I am.

“Absolutely not.”

Ernest’s gaze lingers on the space between us. “May I ask what this is?”

“You may not,” Xavier says.

Ernest exhales—slow, almost patient. “I have a right to know. You’re my heir. That might affect things.”

“I didn’t ask to be your heir,” Xavier says, his voice flat with exhaustion. “In fact, I never wanted to be.”

Ernest looks almost offended, his jaw tightening like he’s been slapped. Then his gaze shifts past Xavier to me—as if I’m the reason his nephew wants nothing to do with him.

“Didn’t you have an engagement lined up with your ex, Mr. Doherty? Or are you planning to marry my nephew now? Hard to say, since you don’t seem to know what you want.”

The irritation hits before I even open my mouth. “I do know what I want,” I say, arms crossing. “I’m marrying your nephew.”

The second the words leave my mouth, both Ormonds freeze—then turn to stare at me, equally stunned. Xavier looks like he might either kiss me or slam me into the counter again. Maybe both. Ernest looks like he wants to slap me.

“Let me speak with you privately, Mr. Doherty,” Ernest says, not bothering to hide his irritation.

“No,” Xavier snaps again, but I catch him by the elbow.

“I’ll talk to him,” I say, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze. “Maybe he’ll leave us alone then.”

Xavier sighs, hesitates—but doesn’t argue.

I leave him in the kitchen and step past his uncle into the living room, pulling the door shut behind us. I’m acutely aware that I’m still in my boxers. Oh well—being half-naked while Ernest Ormond lectures me is apparently becoming a recurring theme.

He walks to the front door, putting distance between us and the kitchen, then turns back and folds his arms. His expression stays composed, but his eyes burn.

“Is this some kind of joke?” he asks. “Are you two trying to mess with me?”

“We’re not,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest—mirroring his posture without meaning to. Mostly just trying to cover myself up a little.

“Then why are you doing this?” Ernest presses, like he hasn’t heard me at all. “Is it for PR?”