Page 32

Chapter Thirty-Two

Maggie

T he grand staircase gleams beneath our feet as we descend, my heart racing with anticipation. The moonlight streaming through the massive windows casts elongated shadows across the marble, but instead of feeling eerie like it usually does at night, the mansion thrums with possibility.

"I can't believe we're actually doing this." I all but skip forward as we reach the main floor.

"Based on your level of enthusiasm," Xave quips, strolling through the sitting room and the kitchen, towards the hallway that leads to the Drawing Room, "I'm gonna assume you don't have a lot of excitement in your life."

"I have plenty of excitement," I retort. "It's just not wild parties in the Smoking Room and threesomes on the divan in the Library."

Xavier laughs. "For the record, I've never had a threesome in the Library." We stop in front of the display cabinet. "I keep threesomes strictly contained to the hot tub." He grins slyly at me over his shoulder as he reaches for the handle.

When I don't respond, his hard body nudges against my side. "I'm joking ." He laughs, rolling his eyes. "Geez."

And this time, I laugh too.

The collection spans an entire wall—rows of ornate music boxes perched on glass shelves, their gilded surfaces gleaming. Some are small as matchboxes, others large as bread loaves. Each one a masterpiece of tiny gears and delicate mechanisms.

I lean in closer to the glass. "How many are there? "

"Almost twenty." Xave pulls the glass door open with a soft click. "Ready to create some chaos?"

The musty-sweet scent of aged wood and metal drifts out.

"Wow…" My finger traces the first row of music boxes, then pauses over a particularly ornate one, its lid cracked and caved in. The delicate painted flowers are smeared, the gold filigree bent and warped. Tiny gears spill from its broken side like mechanical entrails. This wasn't an accident—the damage is too specific, too violent.

I lift it carefully. "What happened to this one?"

Xavier's jaw tightens. "Not sure." His tone is flat, final.

The lie hangs between us. There's definitely a story there—probably not a happy one, given his reaction. I trace the jagged edges where someone clearly took their anger out on this beautiful piece. The craftsmanship that went into it must have been incredible before… whatever happened.

I'm about to set it back when a line of gold lettering catches my eye—an inscription carved into the side in flowing script: Honos Per Turbas.

"What do those words mean?" I gesture towards the inscription.

Xavier's shoulders tense. "No idea." His voice is tight and clipped, just like his last response.

Another lie. Whatever happened to this music box, whatever those words mean—it clearly hits a nerve. The playful energy from moments ago has evaporated, replaced by a heavy silence.

I don't push. We may be getting along better, but we're not at the sharing-dark-secrets stage yet. I carefully place the box back on its shelf, exactly as I found it. "So… ready to wind these bad boys up?" I rub my hands conspiratorially, deliberately shifting focus back to our original mission. "Which ones should we wind up first?"

The moment stretches between us—me giving him the space to move past whatever memories that broken box stirred up; him choosing whether to take it .

His posture relaxes slightly. "This one plays the longest…" He points to one of the larger boxes. "Then this one." He gestures to the one beside it. "The others are pretty much the same, I think."

"Cool. We should probably have a game plan." I survey the shelves. "How about we each start with one of the boxes that play longest, then I'll go to the bottom row and you go to the top, and we work our way to the middle."

"Sounds good." Xavier nods, reaching for the first box—a delicate silver cylinder with hand-painted roses. His lips quirk up at the corners. "On three?"

And just like that, we're back—standing here in the quiet hallway, plotting musical mischief like we're co-conspirators in something magical rather than reluctant housemates.

"Ready?" I bounce on my toes, hands hovering over the first music box.

Xavier mirrors my stance. "Born ready."

"Three…" I draw out the word, building suspense.

Xavier's fingers twitch above the wind-up key.

"Two…"

His eyes lock with mine, a spark of mischief dancing in them.

"ONE!"

We dive in, fingers flying over tiny wind-up keys. The first notes tinkle out—a delicate waltz from Xavier's box mixing with what sounds like a lullaby from mine. I scramble to the bottom shelf while Xavier takes the top, our hands moving in a frenzied dance.

Click-click-click go the gears as we wind each one to its limit.

"Faster!" I whisper-shout, reaching for my third box. "We've got to get them all going at once."

Xavier works his way through the top row with surprising speed despite his injured ribs. "Keep up, LeClair!"

The music builds, mechanical chimes and bells and tinkling notes layering over each other in beautiful chaos. A circus melody crashes into what might be Mozart, while something that sounds suspiciously like Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody competes with a classical piece I don't recognize.

We meet in the middle, hands bumping as we reach for the final boxes. The cacophony of almost twenty music boxes playing different songs at different tempos fills the hallway—it's gloriously chaotic, exactly what I hoped it would be.

We're doubled over, laughing like idiots to the soundtrack of the manic orchestra, trying desperately to complete our ridiculous mission while Xavier keeps making horror movie sound effects.

I collapse against the wall, breathless from our frantic dash to wind all the boxes. Xavier leans next to me, his shoulder brushing mine as the music swirls around us in waves of competing melodies. His hair is mussed, chest rising and falling rapidly, and there's a brightness in his eyes I've never seen before.

"That was…" He trails off, shaking his head.

"Incredible? Insane? The best idea I've ever had?" I grin up at him.

"All of the above." Xavier tilts his head, listening. "It's like being inside a broken kaleidoscope, but with sound instead of color."

He's right. The overlapping tunes create something entirely new—haunting and beautiful and slightly manic all at once.

I close my eyes, letting the cacophony wash over me. As each box gradually winds down, the overall melody shifts and morphs, creating new patterns, new harmonies. We stand there in comfortable silence, shoulders touching, as the mechanical orchestra plays its unrehearsed symphony around us.

My heart is still racing, but not just from our mad dash to wind all the boxes. There's something intimate about sharing this moment, this pocket of magic we've created in the dark hallway. I sneak a glance at Xavier's profile, catching the slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he listens.

"That was… awesome." I smile at him. "Thank you."

He nods, running his fingers through his hair, eyes still locked on mine.

Only a handful of music boxes still play. The frantic energy from moments ago has settled into something softer, more delicate.

"We should do something," I whisper, not wanting to break the spell completely. "It just… It feels wrong to just let it fade away. I feel like we need to mark the moment somehow. "

"Yeah." Xavier's voice is low, matching the quiet intimacy that's settled around us.

I laugh, but it comes out shaky and uncertain. My eyes dart around the dimly lit hallway before landing back on his face. "I mean, I don't actually know what we should do. Maybe cheers with champagne glasses? Or, um…"

Xavier moves with a fluid grace that makes my pulse skip. His hand slides around my waist, warm and steady through my thin pajama top, pulling me closer. His other hand comes up to rest between my shoulder blades, fingers spreading to cradle the nape of my neck. The touch sends electricity dancing along my spine.

The look in his eyes steals my breath—desire and raw vulnerability wrapped up in something almost luminous. There's a certainty there too, an unwavering intensity that makes me feel simultaneously exposed and protected.

He leans in slowly, deliberately. His eyelashes brush my cheek as he tilts his head, tickling my skin.

My breath catches in my throat.

"We could mark it with…" his words ghost across my lips, warm and impossibly close.

Then just as his full lips brush against mine, I inhale a stuttered breath and pull back, lifting my hand to push lightly against his chest. "Wait."

Confusion flutters in his eyes as he pulls back, just slightly— his face still impossibly and wonderfully close. His pillowy lips open and then close, eyebrows raising in silent question.

"It's just…" I start, inhaling another shaky breath, because it's hard to concentrate when he's this close. Looking this beautiful. "I don't…" I try again, dipping my gaze, suddenly annoyed by what I'm about to do. Disappointed, even though I'm the one doing it. But I made a vow to myself, and I can't break it just because this boy is more alluring and more beautiful than any that came before. Taking a deep breath, I meet Xavier's eyes. "It's just—I have this rule."

He squints, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows.

I continue, "I never kiss a guy before a third date. "

Xavier's brows knit together, and he squints at me like I've just started speaking in tongues. Those full lips—the ones that were just barely touching mine a moment ago—part slightly as he licks them. My chest tightens as the last tinkling notes from the music boxes trickle away one by one, leaving us in silence.

He takes another small step back, his eyes bouncing between mine like he's searching for something. "I can't tell if you're joking or…" The sentence hangs unfinished between us, like he can't figure out what the alternative might be to me joking about this.

"No," I say firmly, even though part of me wishes I was joking. Even though every cell in my body is screaming at me to forget my stupid rule just this once. "It's a rule I made for myself when I was fifteen," I explain. "As a built-in charminator repellent."

"… Charminator? "

"Pickup Picasso. Compliment Carnivore…. Flirtopotamus."

He shakes his head. "What the—"

"Douchebag in disguise."

He reels back. "You think I'm a douchebag in disguise?""

"No." God this is awkward. " No. It's just… I've been burned before. I get easily swept up in… you know—cute guys who say sweet things. Or clever things. Just—I'm not interested in quick hookups. I'm too emotional. I can't keep my emotions out of it like some people can, with just a fling or quick hookup or whatever. I just get hurt. Or pissed off. Or… both." I glance over at the music boxes then back at Xavier. "So I made this vow to myself to never fool around with a guy unless we've gone on three dates. No exceptions. Because I'm a hard-ass with rules."

"You put restrictions on your own dating life."

"Foolproof measures," I clarify.

Xavier's chin dips in a single deliberate nod, and his long fingers rake through those perfectly messy waves. The casual gesture draws attention to the sharp line of his jaw. The purpling bruise from the fight… The way his thick brows furrow slightly above those haunting hazel ey es.

"I'm really sorry." My heart squeezes at the guarded look that's crept back into his expression. "I swear it isn't you. It's nothing personal or anything, it's just… this rule I swore I'd stick to."

He pushes his hands in his back pockets now, and leans back on his heels, his face settling into that unreadable mask I've come to hate. The one that makes him look untouchable and distant.

"And do you require your gentlemen callers to fill out a dating form, too?" I can't tell if it's humor or an edge of sarcasm laced in his voice. "And insist a chaperone be present on these dates?"

I think it's humor.

In case it is, I tell him, "I have been known to waive the dating form and chaperone for particularly intriguing or handsome suitors."

"That so?" The faintest glimmer of a smirk pulls at his lips.

Xavier pushes his tongue into his cheek, studying me with an expression I can't quite read. He pulls his hands from his back pockets and leans against the wall, casual and graceful despite his bruised ribs.

I can't stop staring at him, trying to decode the hooded but intense look in his eyes. I'm dying to know what's going through his head right now.

"So, what would a gentleman have to do to request a date… if he was interested?"

I blink rapidly, trying to process the question. "You're interested in going on a date with me?"

"Weirdly, yeah." Xavier nods, and there's something disarmingly honest in his voice that makes my stomach flip.

But then my thoughts stumble into reality… and come to a screeching halt. "I work for your parents… I can't—I mean, we shouldn't—"

"Fuck my parents." Xavier says, with zero inflection in his tone. Like he's stating the weather forecast or something similarly mundane. "Do you see them hanging out here? Ever?"

"I mean… no?"

"So." He shrugs. "Who gives a shit. They won't know." Then he adds, "Even if they did, they wouldn't care. "

My mind races, remembering all our heated arguments, the tension, the way he's slowly been letting his walls down. The way he looked at me just before almost kissing me. The way he's looking at me right now.

"Okay," I say.

"Tomorrow after school." He pushes off the wall. "Date." He gestures between us. "You and me." Then he extends his hand for me to take, obviously to lead me back upstairs. But I hold back.

"Wait. I have to check if Finn has—"

"Pretty sure he's got clubs or something on Mondays."

I check the schedule on my phone—he's right. Finn has after-school science club then swimming. I'm not unaware how rare it is for a seventeen-year-old guy to be so tuned in to his little brother's world. I'm also not unaware how attractive that is.

"So, are you in?"

"Uh…" Am I?

“I’m not usually big on playing by the rules, but I’ll play by yours. For this, anyway.” He tilts his head, just enough to watch me through his lashes, mouth twitching at the corner as he drags a thumb along the edge of his jaw. “I’m kind of excited to plan a date. If you're into it, I mean.”

He's planning a date… Okay, when he puts it that way, it sounds like… well—like more . A bigger deal than just dinner and a movie. "Yes," I tell him. "I'm into it."

"I'll pick you up after school. What time do you get off tomorrow?"

"Uh… four?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?" He laughs.

"Telling you."

What is even happening right now? Xavier is planning a date—for me. For us. My stomach does a little flip at the realization that I'm experiencing the sweet side of Xavier right now. The one who goes out of his way to make his brother happy, and who writes beautiful music when he thinks no one is listening.

"Cool." He grins .

This time, when he reaches for my hand, I let him take it.