The Price Of Being His

CHAPTER TWO

AMARA

Yes, I did not wait at home for Xander to come back that day.

Yes, I know I might be sulking right now, but honestly, I don’t care. Not even a little. Not only did I leave Xander’s house that day, but I’ve been avoiding him ever since. I’ve even lied to him, telling him that I’m not in the city while, in reality, I’m holed up in a hotel just a few miles away from his place, trying to sort through my feelings and clear my head.

It took one final phone call from him earlier today to make me realize how badly I was handling this.

I was letting my jealousy and insecurities get the best of me. I was overreacting, letting the words of some woman—a woman whose version of things might not even be true—dictate my actions.

How could I let her make me question everything I had with Xander? He’s always been there for me. He’s been supportive, caring, and consistent. If he wanted to move on, if he was serious about being with someone else, I was sure he would have enough respect to tell me about it.

Right?

Pulling into the parking lot of a random restaurant, I made up my mind. I was going to surprise Xander tonight. I didn’t tell him I would be coming over, but I thought it would be a nice gesture to surprise him and dinner.

I turned off the engine, stepped out of the car, and walked inside, placing an order for take-out. Afterward, I sat down, waiting for my food to be prepared.

As I tried to relax, scanning the room and letting the hum of the restaurant calm me, my gaze landed on a familiar face. Isabelle. I recognized her instantly.

But she wasn’t alone.

Xander sat across from her, looking completely at ease. His shoulders were relaxed, a sign that they were having an easy, comfortable conversation—one that made me feel like an intruder just by witnessing it. Isabelle laughed at something he said, and without hesitation, reached out to touch Xander’s hand. He didn’t pull away. He let her.

My chest tightened with hurt, jealousy, and maybe even a little anger. Why was she still so close to him? Why was he letting her touch him like that?

I felt my hands ball into fists at my sides, but I stayed rooted to the spot, not moving. I couldn’t approach them. I couldn’t let him see me in this state. Xander had always made it clear that we were supposed to keep things private and not make us public.

That was the only rule Xander had ever given me, and as much as I wanted to ignore it, I knew I had to respect it. I couldn’t break that boundary, no matter how much it stung.

Taking a deep breath, I reached for my purse, my fingers trembling slightly as I fished out my phone. With my eyes never leaving Isabelle and Xander, I dialed his number, hoping for a response.

The seconds dragged on like hours as the phone vibrated in my ear, and I saw Xander reach into his breast pocket, pulling out his own phone. He glanced at the screen, said something quietly to Isabelle, and then abruptly disconnected the call.

My chest tightened. Xander never ignored my calls unless he was in an important meeting.

I dialed his number again, desperately hoping for an answer, but once again, he disconnected the call before it could even ring properly.

I scoffed, the sound bitter and full of pain.

“Ma’am,” a voice called out, his tone polite, “your order is ready.”

I blinked rapidly, forcing myself to tear my gaze away from Xander and his… date? Or whatever she was. Forcing a smile, I gave a tight nod. “Thank you,” I muttered, barely managing to get the words out.

I took the order quickly and turned quickly, trying to escape before they could see the pain etched on my face. I needed to leave before I got caught, before I allowed myself to break.

***************

Seated in the dining room, a champagne flute in my hand, nearly filled to the brim, I stared blankly at the dinner in front of me. My appetite had completely disappeared, replaced by a gnawing emptiness in my chest that I couldn’t shake off.

The sudden sound of the door beeped, pulling me from my thoughts. I blinked, slowly turning my gaze toward the sound, and heard Xander’s familiar voice call out, “Amara?”

I looked up just as he appeared in the hallway, his tall frame standing in the doorway. He walked toward me, his usual warmth radiating from him. “How are you home?” he asked, his voice gentle as he came over to kiss my cheek. “You should have told me, so my driver could pick you up.”

I forced a smile, not wanting to ruin the moment, though it felt hollow. Xander never offered me love—not the kind I wanted. I had no right to be upset. None.

“I did call you, but you didn’t answer,” I replied as I stared at his face, searching for any sign of guilt or acknowledgment.

Xander pulled his phone from his pocket and scrolled through it for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly before he slipped it back into his pocket. “I was in an important meeting.”

With Isabelle, I thought bitterly.

I couldn’t stop myself. “You usually text whenever you’re in an important meeting,” I pointed out softly.

Xander pulled out a seat beside me and sat down, casting a quick glance at the food on the table before letting out a soft chuckle. “Please tell me you didn’t make this.”

I followed his gaze, unable to hold back a small laugh myself. “Of course I didn’t,” I replied dryly. I had spent so much time trying to take care of myself from a young age that I’d never bothered to learn how to cook. Cooking just wasn’t in my skill set.

“I’ll quickly take my shower and come down,” he said, completely ignoring my earlier remark. He gave me a gentle kiss on the temple before standing up and heading toward the stairs.

I stayed seated for a moment, but curiosity gnawed at me. Instead of waiting for him to come back, I stood up and followed him upstairs. Maybe it was just the need to fill the silence, maybe I was just looking for answers to questions I hadn’t yet asked.

As I walked into the room, I quietly made my way to the closet, reached for the jacket he just wore out, picked it up and slipped my hand into the pocket.

The crinkling of paper caught my attention, and I pulled out an invoice from JK Jewelry. My heart skipped a beat as I read the details: Necklace – Paid in full.

He bought a necklace. For whom? Was it for me?

Brows furrowing, I quickly searched through his pants, but when I didn’t find the necklace, I grew even more uneasy. My steps took me to the drawers next. Part of me still didn’t want to believe that Xander could have bought it for Isabelle, but deep down, I knew it was starting to make sense.

When I didn’t find the necklace anywhere in the room, that sinking feeling in my gut told me what I didn’t want to admit—I might have been right.

He might have actually bought the necklace for Isabelle.

I placed the invoice back in his jacket pocket, trying to shake off the ache in my chest. Almost out of the closet, I froze as I heard his phone chime from the bedside table. I didn’t touch it—there was no need to. The message was visible on the screen, clearly readable without unlocking it.

It was from Isabelle.

“THANK YOU FOR TODAY, AND THANK YOU FOR THE GIFT, I REALLY LOVE IT AND I LIKE THE FACT THAT YOU REMEMBERED WHAT TODAY WAS. I WON’T FORGET NEXT WEEK, IT IS A DATE.”

Next week? What the hell was happening next week? What was she referring to?

I heard the sound of the bathroom door creaking open, and in a panic, I quickly turned off the phone screen and rushed back to my side of the closet, trying to steady my breath.

I heard his footsteps shuffling, and then they abruptly stopped. “Amara?” He sounded surprised to find me there. “I thought you’d be waiting in the dining room.”

I grabbed a sweater off the shelf, waving it in his direction. “I was feeling a bit cold,” I lied.

“Cold?” His hand touched my shoulder, and I stiffened slightly at the unexpected warmth. “I can warm you up.”

Not tonight. Not after everything I had learned. “How about we get through dinner first?”

He kissed my hair softly, a gesture that used to melt me but now felt hollow. “Sure.”

Pulling out of his hold, I walked briskly out of the closet, hoping that by the time he joined me, I could bury this sudden heaviness and convince myself it didn’t matter.