But that storm in his eyes was miles away.
“Where is he?” he demanded, looking over my shoulder.
I backed up. “What are you talking about? What are you even doing here?”
“I’m not fucking around, Francesca. Where the fuck is he?”
“Where’s who?” I demanded.
“It. Him. He. That fucking prick you have in there—don’t fuck with me, Ces. No one runs out the way you did last night unless they have something—or someone to hide. So tell him to come out here and face me like a man.”
My jaw dropped. “Are we in the middle of a Regency novel? Did you bring pistols or swords?” I made a show of looking around him toward Van Brunt Street in one direction, toward Coffey Park in the other. “This is Brooklyn, Xavi, not Grosvenor Square. You can’t duel someone just because he’s my significant other, even if I had one, which I do not.”
“Then what’s with all the stupid excuses?” he rattled on, suddenly jumping between the balls of his feet, hands flexing open and closed like a boxer ready to take an opening jab. “You ran away last night faster than a train. I didn’t get a wink of sleep thinking about it. One minute you’ve got your tongue down my throat, the next you’re bolting for the lift like a scared fucking rabbit!”
“Keep your voice down!” I hissed. “I have neighbors.”
“Oh really. ‘Neighbors’ are we calling him? I don’t buy it. Who is he, Ces? I want to know his name before I punch his fucking face in.”
“Mama, who is that? He said a bad word!”
With the slipperiness of an eel, Sofia slid in front of me to examine the perpetrator. I might as well have been made of stone.
“Who are you? Why are you yelling at my mama?” she demanded, staring straight up at the man who suddenly looked about as inanimate as I was.
The reasons were obvious.
Xavier’s stare was fixed on the little girl whose face looked so much like his. Whose deep blue eyes tilted in the same way. Whose cheekbones were evident even under her chubby, rose-hued cheeks. Whose long nose snubbed in the same way and whose lips mirrored his scowl when she was angry.
The daughter he never knew he had.
His eyes widened as if he had seen a ghost.
I supposed in a way he had.
“Xavier,” I whispered.
The sound of his name jerked him out of his daze. It was strange to see him like that. The Xavier I knew was laser-focused to the point of suffocation. Utterly vigilant and totally single-minded.
But the stupor was short-lived, because when his eyes met mine, there was no sign of distraction, no lack of focus. Once again, his gaze was as sharp as a blade.
And I knew at that moment my secret was out.