Page 9 of Detectives in Love

“Yeah,” Gordon pipes up quickly, eager to back her. “Ormond’s got other…commitments these days. Haven’t you read the paper, chief?”

Heat rushes up my neck. I know Xavier heard it, but he doesn’t even blink.

Willand rubs his forehead like the headache’s already kicking in. “What paper? What are you talking about?”

“I’ve got a copy on my desk,” Gordon says. “I’ll bring it to you.”

“Nice article, by the way,” Crowley says, leaning back in her chair, one brow arched as her gaze slides between Xavier and me. “Don’t tell me you haven’t seen it?”

I say nothing. Just sit there, burning, my face giving me away no matter how hard I try. That’s when I feel Xavier’s gaze hit me.

Shit.

I don’t look at him. I don’t look at anyone. I just stare straight ahead and pretend I’m not here—the same thing I used to do back in middle school when I was getting bullied. Guess some habits stick, even when you’re a grown man who’s seen some shit.

“Doing okay there, Doherty?” Gordon says, snapping his fingers like he’s trying to drag me back to reality. “You look like you just popped an aneurysm.”

“Shut the fuck up, or I’ll pop yours,” Xavier says, deadpan. I can’t help looking at him—and neither can anyone else. Hearing Xavier actually threaten violence is…not something I ever thought I’d live to see.

“Ladies and gentlemen, can wepleasekeep this civil?” Willand says, the faintest trace of surprise in his voice.

“Aww, that’s adorable,” Crowley says, still wearing that dead smile. “Mr. Legendary Libido protecting his lover.” She turns to me, gaze full of pity, like I’m beneath her. “You surprise me, Mr. Doherty. I get why he’s holding on to you, but why wouldyouwant someone likehim? So desperate for just any piece of ass?”

“Fiona!” Willand barks, and the room drops into silence, the tension suffocating.

To my surprise, Xavier pushes back his chair and stands.

“I’ll update you when there’s progress,” he says to Willand, his voice cool, as he picks up the Bridge case file from the table. Without sparing anyone a glance, he strides out of the office.

I shoot Crowley and Gordon a glare, let my disdain speak for itself, mutter a quick goodbye to the Chief, and hurry after Xavier.

I catch up by the elevator, stepping quietly to his side. His face gives nothing away, his gaze fixed on the window atthe end of the corridor. Outside, snow drifts down in soft waves, blanketing the city.

“Think it’s worth pursuing?” I ask, breaking the silence.

Xavier doesn’t respond, his jaw tight, his focus unshifting.

“Xavier,” I try again, softer this time.

He turns then, finally meeting my eyes—cold and distant.

“Uh…is the case worth pursuing?” I ask again, keeping my tone neutral. I want to ask something else—something personal, like if he’s okay—but how do you even start a conversation like that with Mr. X? The mildly sociopathic, annoyingly attractive detective with an army of devoted fans isn’t exactly the heart-to-heart type. And we’ve never had that kind of talk before.

“We’ll see,” Xavier says flatly, stepping into the elevator. I follow, and silence settles as the cabin starts its descent.

I clear my throat, sneaking a glance at him. He’s staring straight at the doors, his face unreadable. Could Crowley’s words have actually gotten to him?

I clear my throat again.

“Stop beating around the bush, Newt,” Xavier says coldly, still facing forward. “If you’ve got something to say, say it. Or take a cough drop.”

I flush. “Actually, I’m the one who should be upset withyou. You lied to me. We fought, remember? I’m still mad about that.”

The elevator doors slide open, and we step into the lobby. The girl at the information desk—the one who’d been eyeing Xavier earlier—beams at us. She’s gorgeous, but Xavier doesn’t spare her a glance.

“I apologized last night,” he says as we head for the exit.

I snort. “When? In my dreams?”