Читать книгу The Price of Honour - Emilie Rose - Страница 9

Xavier knew he’d won from the moment Megan’s lips turned soft and pliable beneath his. He allowed her to take his hand and lead him to her lair. He could afford to be magnanimous in victory.

Seeing the interior of the small stone cottage only confirmed his belief that she had left him to make a point. As charming as her temporary accommodations might be, she had not bothered to make them hers the way she had the house he had provided for her.

If she had intended to stay in the States she would have stamped some trace of her personality in the living area or the bedroom, but the only hint of Megan’s occupancy lingered in the air. The bedroom smelled of her and the rose-scented lotion she—or he—smoothed over her skin each night in the ritual he enjoyed watching or sharing. A scent made by one of his low-budget competitors, he recalled with no small amount of distaste.

As good as she smelled, she could smell better if she allowed Parfums Alexandre to blend a personalized fragrance for her. But she had refused his offer.

He surveyed the steep-ceilinged bedroom, taking in the queen-size cherry bed and the traditional, elegant burgundy-and-gold decor. A ceiling fan hanging from one of the exposed crossbeams lazily stirred the air.

The room contained none of the feminine, lacy frills he knew Megan preferred in her linens and in her lingerie. To the world, she was an aggressive competitor and a dedicated horsewoman with a savvy mind for business and an enviable work ethic. He liked knowing that only he saw the soft femininity she concealed beneath her utilitarian riding clothes and no-nonsense attitude.

His heart pounded faster in anticipation of removing her shirt and jeans and uncovering the delicate French undergarments she always wore. He enjoyed buying her sexy lingerie almost as much as he relished removing it and sampling her supple skin.

She stopped beside the bed and tipped her head back to look at him. Her blue eyes were heavy-lidded with desire, her pupils dilated. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips parted. Her hand trembled in his, revealing her eagerness for his caress—an eagerness he shared.

It had been a long, frustrating three weeks waiting for her tantrum to end. It angered him that she had wasted some of the dwindling time they had left. Now that she had come to her senses, they could get on with the pleasure. But he would make her pay for making him come to her. Soon he would have her begging for what she had left behind and their affair would resume. On his terms.

She reached for the buttons of his shirt, releasing them with an enthusiasm that pleased him. Then she unfastened his belt and pants and tugged his shirttail free. A carnal hunger invaded him, making it difficult to force air into his lungs. He reined in the undisciplined feeling.

She parted the fabric of his shirt and cool air swept his chest a split second before her warm hands brushed over him. The need to toss her onto the burgundy-and-gold bedding and sate himself nearly overwhelmed him, but he would let her set the pace. For now. Later, when he had her panting and weak with need he would call the shots.

She bent and touched her lips to his nipple, then flicked the hardened tip with her hot tongue. Desire carved through him like a sharp knife, making him shudder. Only Megan had this incendiary effect on him. He would not give her up. Not yet. Thank God she had moved past her jealous nonsense, and although he did not know what had changed her mind, it did not matter. He had won. As he always did.

Her short nails rasped gently down his sides and then beneath his waistband and around to his fly. She lowered his zipper in slow motion, and he hardened almost to the point of pain. And then she cupped him in her palm. Her touch burned him through his silk boxers and his hips flexed of their own volition as she encircled and stroked him. He clamped his teeth on a moan.

He hooked a hand around her waist, yanked her forward and covered her mouth. She tasted divine, like heady champagne or her favorite Moscato d’Asti. Sweet. Flavorful. Her lips were soft, her tongue slick and hungry as it intertwined with his. His pulse drummed in his ears.

Merde. He could not wait. He hastily unbuttoned and removed her shirt, ripping it down her arms and tossing it aside to reveal a white cotton bra. Surprised, he paused to trace a finger along the plain edge. Her breath caught. “What is this?”

“Um … a sports bra.”

He didn’t like it. He preferred sheer lace that allowed a glimpse of her nipples. But on the other hand, this bra made her breasts seem fuller, so perhaps the ugly piece did have some merit. He bent and licked the top of one soft swell and then the other. Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close.

Megan had extremely sensitive breasts, and he would use that to his advantage to make her promise to see this affair through until the last possible moment.

He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her between his legs. Her scent filled his nostrils and her taste tantalized his tongue, urging him to delve into the shadowy cleft. Cupping the pale mounds, he stroked her nipples through the fabric, relishing in the way her flesh sprung to attention beneath his thumbs.

She whimpered. “I’ve missed this. Missed you, Xavier.”

“And I you.” He unhooked the unattractive garment and dropped it, eager for more of her skin and a lungful of the headier perfume always lurking between and beneath her breasts, which were definitely rounder, heavier. She must be nearing her monthly cycle. While he feasted on the puckered tips, he used his free hand to flick open her jeans, then pushed them down her legs. He needed to feel her wetness.

He combed his fingers through her tight curls, finding her center. She jerked and gasped. And then he located the prize he sought. She was ready for him. Her hips moved against his hand, encouraging his caress.

His groin pulsed harder, demanding attention. He ached with the need to drive inside her and race toward the release she had denied him for too long. The temptation to do so and take care of her afterward flitted across his mind. But non. That was not his way.

Instead he drew a sobering breath and slicked his finger upward, using her womanly lubricant to tease her while he gently scraped a nipple with his teeth then sucked.

She whimpered his name, clenched her fingers in his hair and bowed her back, offering him a pale feast. A tremor shook her body as he divided his attention between the puckered tips begging for attention. The aroma of her arousal filled the air. He wanted to taste her, but he was precariously close to the edge, and he wanted to make her wait until she was incoherent with need.

Rising, he ripped back the covers, then lifted her into his arms and set her onto the bed. He made quick work of her boots and remaining clothing then his own, pausing only long enough to toss the condom from his pocket on the nightstand.

The sight of her ivory curves spread across the burgundy sheets mesmerized him. Megan possessed an athlete’s body, leanly muscled, but softened by her feminine attributes. Her strength was quite a turn-on.

“You are beautiful.”

“You make me feel beautiful. Come here.” She raised a hand and bent her knee, inviting him into her bed, into her body.

One frayed fiber of self-control remained. He settled on the mattress at her feet and captured a slender arch in his palm. Her eyes widened and her lips parted. She squirmed, knowing what was coming.

Megan’s feet, legs and hands were her primary methods of communication with her horses. Over the years, they had become hypersensitive to any nuance. He lifted her foot to his mouth, kissing her big toe, her instep. He rasped his bristly chin on her skin then flicked his tongue over the arch. She shuddered, as he had known she would.

He hid his smile against the tender skin behind her ankle then worked his way up the inside of her calf, pressing her legs apart as he ascended. Megan’s fingers fisted in the sheets and her breathing quickened. He savored the satiny skin cloaking firm, tensed muscles and nipped at the soft pad of flesh inside her thighs that she hated. She twisted impatiently. The aroma of her arousal made him dizzy with hunger. He flicked his tongue along the crease of her leg.

She flexed her hips, silently begging him to pleasure her, but he ignored her request—for now—and focused on planting teasing kisses, licks and nips along her bikini line and over her tummy. He swirled his tongue in her navel, and watched goose bumps rise on her skin. Her curls tickled his cheek.

To hell with it. He had hungered for her taste for weeks. He would not deny himself any longer. He cupped her buttocks and flicked her swollen bud with his tongue, slowly at first, then more rapidly. He groaned at the delicious taste of her.

She bucked her hips off the bed. “Oh, Xavier. That feels … so good.”

He stroked her in the way he knew would drive her to the edge until her legs quivered. He waited until she hovered on the brink before lifting his head and kissing her thigh. She squeaked a disappointed protest.

“Are you in a hurry, chérie?”

“Yes. Yes. It’s been so long. I haven’t … since you … Please.”

That she had not had a release since leaving his bed pleased him inordinately.

“Please what, Megan?” He licked her once, twice, enjoying each flinch and gasp of delight, then stopped again.

She pulled the pillow from beneath her head and whacked him with it. Her playfulness between the sheets was yet another reason he could not let her go. Not yet. Megan was both his lover and his playmate, and on days when work drove him to the precipice of insanity, she never failed to pull him back and make him smile.

But the desire on her face now, the white teeth digging into her bottom lip, and her passion-filled eyes told the truth. She ached as badly as he and the time for play was over.

“I need you. Now,” she pleaded. He liked to hear her beg for him. The growling demand of the last word turned him on.

“Need me how? Like this?” He slid his fingers inside her, drawing out a low, sexy whimper.

“Oh, yes.”

“Or this?” He bent to suck her into his mouth while pumping his fingers.

“Yes,” she hissed as her orgasm undulated through her.

He rode each jerk of her climax with his hand and mouth, drawing out as much pleasure as he possibly could. The rhythmic clench of her body around his fingers drove him precariously close to losing control. It had been a long time since he had allowed himself release. Doing so without Megan had been less than satisfying and therefore pointless.

The moment her spasms ended, he dove for the condom, rolled it on and hooked his hands behind her knees. “Look at me as I take you, Megan.”

Her heavy lids lifted and her dazed eyes met his. “I want you inside me, Xavier. Hurry.”

Gritting his teeth against the searing need urging him to race hard and fast to satisfaction, he eased into her slick channel and sank deep into her. The blaze intensified as he withdrew and returned again and again, setting a steady, controlled pace that he hoped would prolong his ecstasy.

But Megan had other ideas. Her hands grasped his shoulders, pulling his torso closer to hers. Her nails lightly scored trails down his chest, bumping over his nipples and fanning his hunger like bellows. She arched off the bed and planted a wet kiss on his neck, then her tongue outlined the shape of his ear and dipped inside with hot, wet plunges that mirrored his thrusts.

Hunger blasted through him like a furnace. He countered it by focusing on continuing to torment her, but then the pressure swelled inside him and he knew he could not delay any longer.

“Come for me,” he ordered, his voice more growl than words as he swiveled his hips against the tender spot that would set her off. Almost instantly her breath caught and her fingers dug into his back. Climax burst through her. The first contraction of her body hit him like a Molotov cocktail. Wave after wave of release reverberated through him until he had nothing left.

No strength in his arms. No air in his lungs. He collapsed to his elbows, momentarily savoring her damp torso against his, then he slowly rolled to her side. The ceiling fan stirred the air, cooling and drying his skin.

No. He would not give up Megan until his vows required they part.

She grabbed his hand, pulled it across her body and rested it on her smooth stomach. He forced his weighted eyelids open and found her eyes on him. Her mouth opened, closed, opened again, but she said nothing.

He understood her speechlessness. His climax had been as stupefying as hers apparently had been. “Come home with me, Megan.”

“I’ll come as soon as you end your engagement.”

His muscles went rigid, his contentment shattered. “I have told you I cannot.”

Her face blanched. She threw his hand aside and bolted upright in the bed. Her eyes turned from soft and sated to wounded and betrayed.

“It will never be this good with her.”

“I know that, mon amante.”

Her lips quivered and she nipped the bottom one between her teeth. But she didn’t cry. No, his Megan had too much pride for tears—yet another quality he admired about her. She did not indulge in the emotional drama most women employed to get their way.

“Do you really believe you can turn off what we have like a tap? That the feelings will stop just because you order them to?”

He expelled a frustrated breath. Apparently they had not made as much progress as he’d believed. “I assure you it will not be easy. But it must be this way.”

She climbed from the bed, stalked across the room and through an open door out of sight. When she returned she had her silk robe wrapped tightly around her. The fire blazing from her eyes had little to do with the passion they had just shared.

“That’s where you’re wrong. It doesn’t have to be this way. I don’t have to settle for second. I want more than a temporary affair, Xavier. I deserve more. And if that’s all you have to offer then I don’t need you in my life. Get out and go home.”

Another tantrum. How unlike her. Why was she acting so out of character? “As you have said, you will never find passion like ours with anyone else.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Watch me.”

Jealousy discharged inside him. She pivoted on her heel and wisely retreated through that same door. The lock clicked, echoing through the silent room.

He heard the shower turn on and cursed. She asked the impossible. He could not break his engagement no matter what games Megan played. Even without the Alexandre estate as incentive, he would not shame his family name the way his father had when he had cast honor aside for “love.” The subsequent marriage had failed, and it had cost the Alexandre family everything.

Xavier vaulted off the bed and yanked on his clothing.

He had no intention of repeating his father’s mistakes. He would simply find another way to coerce Megan into spending the next eleven months in his bed.

And he’d be damned if he would allow her to take another lover. She belonged to him until he said otherwise.

“You shouldn’t be lifting these by yourself. Not in your condition,” Hannah chided as she joined Megan in the riding ring.

The diamond engagement ring on her cousin’s finger caught the sun and flashed like a strobe light as she grabbed the opposite end of the rail Megan was placing in the cup.

“I’m being careful. And you heard the doctor say I should keep up my regular activities. Except riding. Tim will help me as soon as he finishes cooling down Midnight. He’s paying for his lessons by helping me set up the courses three days a week and by exercising my horses.”

Hannah set the round pole into position and dusted off her hands. “It’s good of you to cut him a deal. You could be teaching only the highest-paying clients. Didn’t I predict someone with your qualifications would have your choice of students and a waiting list?”

“You did,” Megan conceded. “And thanks for setting that up. I help Tim because he has innate talent and a good horse. He reminds me of me when I first started out on my own—all raw talent and ambition. I’d hate to see him miss the chance to compete because his dad lost his job.” She paced off the distance to the next jump.

Hannah accompanied her. “We have a new neighbor.”

“Who?”

“No clue. Wyatt said some guy called his office and asked if he knew of any horse farms available in the area.” Her cousin’s face lit up whenever she mentioned her fiancé and she mentioned him often—in almost every sentence. It was both sweet and a painful reminder of what Megan didn’t have.

“Wyatt told him about the property down the road from us being vacant. You probably didn’t know ol’ Mr. Haithcock died two years ago. His heirs can’t come to an agreement over what to do with the property, so it’s been sitting vacant. Anyway, Wyatt gave the man the contact information. One of the heirs called to say thanks. The guy leased the farm. That’s a load off me because I’ve been keeping an unofficial eye on the place.”

“I drove past the property last week on my way to town. It’s in really bad shape.” Apprehension prickled Megan’s neck. Xavier wouldn’t …

Hannah nodded. “Mr. Haithcock’s declining health prevented him from keeping up with the maintenance. The fences are falling down, the paint is peeling on all the buildings, the pastures are overgrown and the driveway is so littered with storm debris it looks like an obstacle course. I was considering sending a crew over to mow the fields and clean up a bit just to keep the riffraff and rodents out.”

Definitely not Xavier’s kind of place. But Megan hadn’t heard a word from him in the five days since she’d kicked him out. At the time she’d been too relieved to find him gone when she’d come out of the bathroom to be suspicious. She’d never known him to back down from a challenge.

She put a hand over her belly. “When did all this happen?”

“Hmm. The guy called earlier in the week and Haithcock’s nephew called last night. I’ve noticed a lot of activity on the farm for the past couple of days, and I passed a horse hauler turning into the driveway on my way home from the wedding planner’s just now. I’ll say one thing, the new tenants’ horses travel first-class. That was an expensive rig.”

Panic trickled through Megan. She clutched the oxer’s vertical for support. No. Please no. It’s just a coincidence.

“Megan, are you okay? Did you overdo it? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Megan tucked her hair behind her ears with an unsteady hand and forced a smile that almost cracked her face. It couldn’t be Xavier. The sprawling cedar ranch home was far too rustic for his caviar tastes, and the barn wasn’t nearly as large or posh as his stable. “I’m just borrowing trouble.”

“That’s not like you. Care to explain?”

Not really. But Hannah could be stubborn. “I had a fleeting thought that Xavier might be laying siege by setting up camp outside the castle walls, so to speak, but I’m sure he’s returned to France. After all, I’m not giving him what he wants and he has a wedding to plan and a business to run.”

“I hate that I was out when he stopped by. I would have loved to meet him and tell him what a jerk he is.”

Megan wasn’t surprised by Hannah’s protectiveness. She and her cousin had been as close as sisters since the day Megan had moved into the Sutherland house after her family’s plane crash. If not for the impossible relationship with Hannah’s father nothing could have driven Megan away.

Now that Luthor had retired and moved out, the farm wasn’t a battle zone anymore. But the farm was Hannah’s and Wyatt’s now, and once more, Megan was the outsider looking in. And if Hannah and Wyatt started a family, Megan feared she’d be in the way all over again.

She pushed the unpleasant possibility aside and focused on the more pressing issue. “Hannah, you have no idea how close I came to telling Xavier about the baby. For a few moments after we made love everything seemed so perfect and I felt so close to him. I thought he’d decided to dump his fiancée. I put his hand on my stomach, and I’d taken a breath to share my news. But I just couldn’t find the words.”

“Good thing you didn’t.”

“That would have been a disaster.”

Hannah pulled her cell phone from her pocket. “I’ll call Wyatt and see if Haithcock’s heir mentioned the tenant’s name.”

“That isn’t really necessary. I’m sure I’m just being paranoid. This isn’t a feudal war, despite Xavier’s arranged marriage. Moving horses halfway across the globe in a couple of days and with no prior planning would take an act of Congress. Even if they do have all their paperwork in order.”

“We’ll both feel better once we’re sure.” Hannah smiled as she punched in the number. The love and anticipation of talking to her man written all over her face sent a tiny twinge of envy through Megan. Then disappointment replaced Hannah’s smile. “It went to voice mail. I forgot he had a conference call this afternoon. I’ll ask him tonight.”

“It’s okay. Really.”

But she wouldn’t sleep a wink until she knew for sure that Xavier hadn’t leased Haithcock’s farm. It seemed she would have to drive over to personally welcome the new neighbor.

Megan got a bad feeling as soon as she steered the pickup truck she’d borrowed from Sutherland Farm between the newly repaired and whitewashed fences flanking the Haithcock farm driveway. A fresh layer of gravel crunched beneath her tires.

Then she spotted the top-of-the-line tractor-trailer horse hauler—the kind multimillion-dollar horses rode in. Her stomach sank. This couldn’t be good.

She parked beside the luxurious transporter and climbed from the cab. The humid evening air smelled of paint, fresh shavings and recently mowed grass. When she saw the chestnut stallion being led by a groom down the truck’s ramp, she broke out in a cold sweat.

She knew that horse as well as she knew her own. His strengths. His weaknesses. His bad habits. His owner.

Xavier.

The urge to bolt for the woods and lose her lunch charged through her, but she gritted her teeth until the nausea passed. Fleeing would be futile anyway. Xavier had already proven he’d follow. With his prize stallion, her favorite mount.

She scanned the now pristine property. How like Xavier to take the old farm from derelict to showplace in just days. He had the means and the money to work miracles.

An odd mixture of hope, dread and excitement fizzed through her. Would he go to so much trouble if he didn’t feel something for her? If he didn’t want her back? Her and only her. Maybe he’d realized how stupid and anachronistic an arranged marriage was.

The stallion caught her scent. His ears flicked forward and he whickered in recognition. She closed the distance and stroked his glossy neck.

“Hello, Apollo. Where’s Mr. Alexandre?” she asked the unfamiliar groom handling the horse.

He pointed toward the freshly painted barn. “Inside.”

“Thanks.”

Her heart thumped harder as she approached the building. A black Maserati Quattroporte identical to the high-performance luxury sedan Xavier drove at home occupied a spot near the barn’s front entrance. She heard his voice before she saw him and then he came through the door with his cell phone to his ear, jolting her to a stomach-dropping halt.

His jade eyes coasted over her, giving her goose bumps. He ended his call. “Good evening, Megan.”

She waited for him to tell her he’d made a mistake and wanted her back, but the silence stretched between them. “Why are you doing this, Xavier?”

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “If the rider won’t come to the horse, then the horse must come to the rider.”

“What happened to the replacement rider I found for him?”

“She was inadequate.”

“She’s ranked in the top ten.”

“Apollo prefers you.”

And so do I, she waited for him to add. But he didn’t.

“You’ve put him through a transatlantic flight for nothing. I’m not riding him.”

“He and your other mounts will stay until you come to your senses.”

Another brick slid down her throat and landed with a kerthunk in her belly. “You brought all three of them?”

He inclined his head.

“Why? You’re decreasing the value of the animals by pulling them from competition midseason.”

“You did that when you abandoned them to a strange and inferior rider. They did not perform as well for her as they did for you.”

“You didn’t give them a chance to adjust to each other’s styles.” But maybe a teensy part of her was happy that the horses had performed better for her. Petty, Megs.

“It is done.” And once he made a decision, she’d learned, he stuck to it. But she hoped he’d change his mind on one—his marriage.

“How long are you going to play this game, Xavier?”

“I have signed a year’s lease.”

She smothered a groan. She had to find a way to convince him to go home and soon. She might be able to hide her condition under baggy shirts for another month, but that was it, and in six months she’d have his child. “What about Parfums Alexandre and your upcoming wedding? That’s less than a year away?”

“Cecille can plan the nuptials without me, and I will work via conference call for now. And I have the jet on standby.”

To him jetting to another country was like any normal person’s road trip. Only, he had a full crew so he worked during the flights. “Haithcock’s house is hardly up to your five-star standards.”

He shrugged. “It has a simple charm and the furnishings provided are adequate.”

“You’re wasting your time, Xavier.”

“You have mentioned competing on the American circuit. I will provide the means for you to do so until you get it out of your system. The horses and you are certainly up to the task. I understand your need to prove your worth although I am told your uncle has retired from the horse business and no longer attends the shows to witness your success.”

It shouldn’t surprise her that he’d done his homework. “Proving myself on my uncle’s turf isn’t what this is about.”

“Then what is the problem? What keeps you here?”

Had he not heard a word she’d said? “Her.”

“As I have said before, Cecille is not an issue. I will not leave until you agree to return with me.”

“Only one thing will make that happen.”

A dark eyebrow lifted.

Her palms turned clammy. “End your engagement.”

His expression darkened ominously. “You demand the one concession I cannot grant.”

His words punctured whatever remained of her balloon of hope. If he loved her he wouldn’t hurt her this way. No, they’d never spoken the words, but the closeness they’d shared, the amount of time they’d spent together, had led her to believe he cared. He allowed her to see a side of himself that others never saw—a side that was gentle instead of ruthless, considerate instead of conquering. Had that meant nothing to him at all?

“How does your fiancée feel about your extended vacation?”

“I did not ask her opinion.”

She gaped at him. Was he clueless? “I realize you didn’t have a good role model, so let me help you. Marriage is a partnership. It means always considering the feelings of your significant other before making decisions that will affect him or her. Cheating on your future wife with a mistress—even if that mistress is across an ocean—is hardly the way to earn trust and make a relationship last.”

“And you are an expert on long-term relationships? I think not. The only lasting associations you have had are with your cousin and your horses. You thrive on competition, Megan. Why are you not competing?”

She scrambled for an acceptable response. One he’d believe. One that would convince him he couldn’t change her mind. Unless he changed his first.

“I’ve chased the dream of being on top of the leaderboard for ten years. I’m tired and need a break. I miss my cousin. I want to help Hannah plan her wedding. And now that my uncle has moved away from Sutherland Farm, there’s no reason for me to avoid the place. I’m leaving the European Circuit for good, Xavier. I won’t come back. Not for you or your horses. Not if you’re married to her.”

The minute she said the words she knew they were true. She couldn’t go back if he married that woman. Megan couldn’t bear to see Xavier and his wife in the stands or at the pre- and post-show parties. They’d bump into each other constantly. And knowing Xavier’s have-his-cake-and-eat-it-too attitude, he’d probably expect her to keep riding his horses even after he said his vows.

The life she’d built in Europe was over and the friends she’d made relegated to the past. The realization hit hard, and even though she’d left a month ago a part of her had hoped to return. But that wasn’t looking likely. Her emotions, which had been close to the surface lately, threatened to mutiny. Her eyes and throat burned and her chest tightened.

She would not cry. Especially not in front of Xavier. Gritting her teeth and fighting for composure, she turned on her heel and stalked away. She kept her eyes focused on the truck and escape.

“Why are you trying to change the rules of our affair?” he called after her.

Amazed that such a brilliant man could be so obtuse, she stopped and pivoted. “For the past six months we have spent nearly every hour together when we’re not working. I thought the rules had already changed.”

“Non.”

“Do you love me, Xavier?”

Rejection stamped his face. “Love was never part of our agreement.”

“Our agreement? You make our relationship sound like a business deal sealed with a handshake.”

“Are you claiming you love me?” He didn’t sound as though the idea appealed, and the fact that he avoided answering her question was answer enough.

Disillusionment settled heavily on her shoulders. “I believed I did. But I guess I was mistaken. You aren’t the man I thought you were, because that man would never subject his wife and his children or his lover to the humiliation of the gossip we both know runs rampant on the circuit.

“You may not care about the whispers that will go on behind your future wife’s back or mine, but I do, Xavier, and I won’t embarrass her or cheapen myself. I’m going to say it one last time. Maybe this time you’ll hear me. Go home. As long as you’re planning to marry her, there’s nothing for you here.”