Page 114 of Haunted
I push myself further up against the headboard, needing distance even as I crave his touch.
“You want to know the truth? Even if I could write an exposé, even if that NDA disappeared tomorrow, I’m not sure I’d want to.” The confession tastes like ash in my mouth. “Four days ago, I had principles. I had integrity and self-respect. I had a mission to expose corruption and hold powerful people accountable.”
Xavier remains perfectly still, listening.
“Now?” I laugh incredulously. “Now I’m sitting in the bed of the man I was supposed to bring down, wearing silk he chose for me, bound by a contract I signed willingly. And the worst part? The absolute worst part is that some twisted part of me doesn’t want to leave.”
The truth hangs in the air between us, painful and fucked up as it may be.
“I hate what you’ve done to me,” I whisper. “I hate that you’ve turned me into someone I don’t recognize. Someone who gets wet when you command her, whobegs for your touch, who would rather be your property than go back to her old life. What kind of woman wants to be nothing but an object?”
Xavier’s jaw clenches, his hands fisting in the expensive fabric of his pants.
“I hate that you’ve made me want things I never wanted before. That you’ve shown me parts of myself I didn’t know existed.” Tears burn behind my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. “And I hate that despite all of that, despite knowing exactly what you are and what you’ve taken from me, I still...”
I can’t finish the sentence. Can’t say the words that would make me completely pathetic.
“You still want?” His voice is a whisper.
I close my eyes, hating myself for what I’m about to admit. “I still want you. Need you, even. Like you’ve rewired my brain, and now I can’t function as anything but a shell without you.”
The words taste like poison.
“That’s what I hate most of all,” I continue, my voice breaking. “You’ve broken me, made me dependent on the very person I should despise. Made me crave the touch of a man who sees me as nothing, an object—property.”
Xavier moves closer to the bed. “You think you’re the only one who’s been broken?”
I look at him, confused by the edge in his voice.
“You think I planned this?” His hand rakes through his hair again, a tell I’m starting to recognize. “You think I wanted to become obsessed with a woman who came into my world specifically to destroy it, to destroyme?”
“Xavier—”
“No, let me finish.” His voice cracks with an emotion I’ve never heard from him before. “I’ve had dozens of women. Used them and discarded them without a second thought. But you? You’ve made me question everything. Made me protective, possessive, obsessivein ways that go far beyond ownership.”
He reaches for my hand, his fingers trembling slightly against mine.
“You’ve done the same to me, Mira. Made me need you in ways that terrify me. Ways that make me act like a bastard because I don’t know how to process this feeling.”
I stare at him, searching his face for lies, for manipulation. But all I see is a vulnerability that mirrors my own.
“I don’t know if I believe you,” I whisper. “Not after how you dismissed me earlier.”
Xavier’s grip on my hand tightens. “I was scared. Terrified that if I let you get too close to my business, you’d use it against me eventually. But I won’t make you feel like nothing again. That was not my intention. I swear it.”
Before I can respond, Xavier’s hand cradles my jaw, his thumb caressing my cheek. His eyes search mine one last time before he leans in, pressing a tender kiss to my lips—one that I didn’t know he could ever be capable of. What began as an olive branch quickly turned desperate, expressing all the words neither of us knew how to say.
My hand’s fist in his shirt, pulling him closeras he devours me with a passion that feels like damnation and salvation all at once.
When we finally break apart, both breathless, I start laughing.
Xavier pulls back, confusion flickering across his features. “Why are you laughing?”
“Because this is insane.” I shake my head, still giggling despite myself. “I spent my entire adult life wanting to bring justice to criminals. Not as a police officer like my father, but through journalism. Spreading truth, exposing corruption.”
My laughter turns slightly hysterical.
“Turns out, instead of bringing justice to criminals, I’ve become addicted to one.”
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