DEFY (The Billionaire's Rules, Book 8) (4 page)

Everything she’d been through with Cullen
was weighing on her, and she missed him more and more as time went by.

Even if leaving him back in Vegas had
been the right move, that didn’t make being alone any easier.

All she could seem to do was remember and
mourn the short time they’d had together.
 

Spending this dinner with Xavier was only
highlighting that fact.

She was intent on keeping the
conversation light and fun, but Cullen Sharpe’s shadow hung over them, and
Xavier clearly wanted to bring him up.

Towards the end of dinner, he finally
said it.

“Ivy, I have to ask you something.”

Her stomach clenched in anticipation of
his question.
 
She gripped her wine
glass tightly.
 
“Go ahead.”

“Are you seeing Cullen Sharpe or not?”

She sighed and shook her head.
 
“No, I’m not.”

“But the two of you were an item at some
point,” he said.

Yes,
we’re technically married
,
she wanted to blurt out.
 
But there
was no point in doing that.
 
Instead,
she simply shook her head.
 
“Whatever it was, it’s over,” she told him.

“Good,” Xavier said.
 
“Not just because I’m interested in you,
either, although I am.”
 
He smiled
across the table at her.
 
“But also
because I don’t think he’s a good person for anyone to involve themselves
with.”

Ivy didn’t know if it was the wine, but
she suddenly had the courage to ask him a question that had been on her
mind.
 
“What is it with you and
Cullen?
 
Some kind
of rivalry?
 
Jealousy?
 
What?”

Xavier’s gaze hardened.
 
“Jealous of Sharpe?
 
I don’t think so.”

“It almost seems like you’re obsessed
with him, Xavier.”

“The man used to be my friend,” he
said.
 
He stirred his rice across
his plate with his fork.
 
“But then
he proved himself to be criminally arrogant and stubborn to the point of
ruining his own reputation and the lives of those who put their trust in him.”

“Is this about the woman who died during
surgery?” she asked.

Xavier sat back in his chair.
 
“This doesn’t seem like fodder for a
lovely romantic evening.”

“Is that what we’re supposed to be
having?” she asked.

“I’d hoped so.”

Ivy looked away from his intensifying
gaze.
 
“Well…you don’t have to
answer my question about the woman that died.”

“No, I’ll answer your question,” he
said.
 
He leaned forward and his
voice lowered.
 
“Cullen was involved
with the woman.
 
And he didn’t
exactly treat her well towards the end.
 
There was some sort of domestic violence charge that never went
anywhere.
 
The relationship was
tumultuous and it became clear that all was not well in paradise.
 
I tried to get him to let me perform the
surgery she needed, because Cullen was way too close to the situation.
 
In fact, I was partly responsible for
not putting a stop to what he was doing way sooner.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because, we were friends, dammit,” he
said, his palm striking the table so loudly that a few nearby customers turned
and looked at them.
 
Xavier lowered
his voice.
 
“We
were
friends.
 
I
thought.
 
But we argued bitterly
about that surgery and he refused to let me take over, insisted on doing things
his way, as per usual.
 
She passed
away because of a mistake he made, whether intentional or not.”

“Do you actually think he killed her on
purpose?” Ivy said.

Xavier didn’t answer.
 
“All I know is that she shouldn’t have died
during that surgery.”
 
Xavier’s gaze
met hers and she could see the fury in his eyes.

“But you don’t think he actually
wanted
to kill her,” Ivy pressed.

“I don’t think I ever really knew Cullen
Sharpe,” Xavier said.
 
“I thought I
did, but I was wrong.”

The dinner ended on a slightly downbeat
note, because after that conversation, neither Ivy nor Xavier seemed quite as
relaxed or happy as they had been.

The wine had taken effect, however, and
on the drive back to her apartment, Ivy felt drowsy and slightly depressed.

Xavier spoke authoritatively.
 
“Next time we go out, I’m making a
rule.”

“Oh?” she asked, as her head lolled a bit
from side to side.
 
“What rule is
that?”

“A ‘no talking about Cullen Sharpe’
rule.”

Ivy grinned.
 
“Deal,” she said.

As they arrived at her apartment
building, Xavier turned to her.
 
The
car was idling and Ivy was drowsy.
 

“I had a nice time tonight,” he said
softly.

When she looked at him, Ivy realized that
Xavier wanted to kiss her.
 
He was
leaning towards her from the driver’s seat.

“I did too,” she said, turning her head
away.
 

“Ivy,” he said.
 
“You deserve to be treated like the precious
jewel that you are.”

She couldn’t meet his gaze.
 
This just felt wrong, somehow.
 
No matter how good-looking Xavier was,
Ivy couldn’t manufacture an attraction she didn’t feel.

“I should go,” she whispered.

Suddenly, his hand fell upon her
hand.
 
“Look at me,” he said.

She looked at him, and he was leaning
closer and closer.
 
Ivy realized he
was going to try and kiss her now, and that meant she was going to have to
reject him.

But before she could say no, or push him
away, there was a loud crash.

Ivy screamed and Xavier shouted, both of
them startling in their seats.
 

A shadowy male figure had appeared on the
driver’s side of the car, and hit the side mirror with his fist.
 
The mirror snapped, and now it was
hanging off the side of the car as if by a thread.

At first, Ivy thought they were being car
jacked or robbed, but then the shadowy man continued walking.

He came around the front of Xavier’s car.
 

Ivy inhaled as she finally saw his face
clearly.

Cullen Sharpe was now bathed in the glow
of the car headlights.
 
His expression
was a mask of fury, as he raised his leg and kicked the front of the car.

One of the lights went dark as the sound
of tinkling glass filled the air.

“He just kicked out my fucking
headlight!” Xavier yelled.
 
“Is he
crazy?”

Cullen lifted his leg and smashed his
foot into the other headlight and now he was shrouded in shadow.

“You should go,” Ivy told Xavier.

“He’s a maniac,” Xavier said.
 
“I’m not leaving you alone with that
guy.”

“I can handle him,” she said, opening her
car door and getting out.

Cullen pointed at Xavier through the
windshield.
 
“Get out of the car so
I can kick your ass,” Cullen yelled.

“Cullen, just stop,” Ivy told him.

Xavier wasn’t moving.
 

“Come on,” Cullen said, slamming his hand
on the hood of the car.
 
“Get out,
and let’s settle this once and for all.”

Ivy walked around the front and grabbed
Cullen’s wrist.
 
He was wearing his
suit, but looking slightly bedraggled.
 
His tie was loose and his hair mussed.
 
“You’re not going to fight Xavier,” she
said.
 
“Knock it off.”

He glanced at her.
 
“Are you fucking him?”

“That’s none of your business,” she
replied.

Cullen turned towards Xavier again.
 
“I should’ve kicked your ass a long time
ago,” he called.
 

The engine gunned suddenly, and the car
shot forward a couple of feet.
 
Cullen grabbed Ivy and jerked her out of the way.
 
The window rolled down on Xavier’s side
as he passed by them.
 
“You’re
paying for my headlights, asshole,” Xavier said.

“Sue me,” Cullen said.

“Why not?” Xavier yelled.
 
“Everyone else is.”

“That’s right, take a number,
buddy
.”
 
Cullen
continued to follow the slowly moving car, lashing out and kicking the rear
bumper as it went by.
 
The break lights
went on.
 

“You’re a lunatic, you know that?” Xavier
yelled back at him.

Cullen laughed loudly, almost
hysterically.
 
“Go bitch about it to
your therapist, your lawyer, or your damn accountant.
 
Maybe if you pay them enough, they’ll
pretend to give a shit.”

“Asshole!” Xavier yelled back, and then
the car shot off into the night.

The street was suddenly quiet.
 
Ivy realized she was still holding onto
Cullen’s wrist and let go.

He turned and faced her, his nostrils
flaring.
 
“So this is what you’ve
been doing since you left me holding the bag in Vegas?”

“Cullen,” Ivy said, shaking her
head.
 
“Have you been drinking?”

“Don’t change the subject,” he replied,
his eyes fixed on her.
 
“I want to
know why you were out on a date with that guy.”

“Because, I asked him to go out to dinner
with me.”

Cullen looked like she’d just punched him
in the jaw.
 
“
You
asked
him
out?”

“Oh, Cullen.
 
What’s the difference?
 
You and I are over with.”

“No,” he said, “that’s where you’re
wrong, Ivy.”

“You don’t get to decide anymore,” she
told him.
 
“I’m not a little pawn in
your game.
 
I’m my own person.”

“Just tell me you’re in love with him and
I’ll go away.”

She laughed a little.
 
“No, I’m not in love with Xavier
Montrose.”

“Are you trying to hurt me?” Cullen
asked, stepping forward.
 
“Dating my
enemies one by one?
 
Perhaps you’ll
be seeing the FBI agent next.”

“It’s not always about you,” she said,
“but that’s what you never seen to understand.”
 
Ivy started to walk away from him, but
then his hand shot out and grabbed her by the forearm.
 
“Wait,” he said.

“Cullen—“

“It’s not about me,” he said, his tone
changing.
 
“I came here to see
you.
 
I can’t stop thinking about
you.
 
About us.”

Ivy closed her eyes, trying to contain
her emotions.
 
The hard part
was knowing
that every cell in her body wanted Cullen to say
these things to her.
 
It had been so
difficult feeling alone, separated from him, invisible to him.

But then she remembered seeing Cullen talking
to Emma Marks at work.
 
Recalling
that scene made Ivy’s hackles rise again.

“Did you say the same thing to Emma when
you started seeing her again?” Ivy said, pulling away from him.

“What does that mean?” he asked.

“I saw you and her together outside her
office.
 
I’m not a fool.”

“Ivy,” Cullen laughed.
 
“Don’t be silly.”

“It’s not funny,” she said.
 

She backed up a step, happening to glance
down, and then noticed that she had a dark stain of some sort on her forearm.
 
She lifted her arm and examined it more
closely.

It wasn’t just a dark stain.
 
It was blood.
 
Ivy’s eyes widened, and she looked at
Cullen’s hand and saw that he had a jagged gash across his knuckles, presumably
from where he’d made contact with the car’s side mirror.
 
“You’re bleeding,” she said.

Cullen glanced down at his hand and
shrugged.
 
“It’s nothing.”