When You Became My Home

Chapter Eight-Xander

Friday had been hell.

There was no other word for it.

Hell.

Meeting after meeting after meeting.

By the time my final meeting began, I was already exhausted.

A Japanese investor had flown in specifically for negotiations, and unfortunately, the man had no concept of a short meeting.

One hour became two.

Two became three.

By the time I finally left the building, it was almost midnight.

I checked my phone as I walked toward my car.

Nothing from Cairo.

I frowned.

I hadn’t seen much of him today.

Only briefly in the afternoon.

A few minutes.

That was all.

And somehow, after spending the entire day buried in work, that bothered me more than it should have.

Cairo was home.

He was close.

And yet I had barely spoken to him.

By the time I reached my house, it was twelve-thirty.

I showered.

Changed into comfortable clothes.

Poured myself a drink.

Then sat down.

I should have gone to bed.

Instead, I thought about Cairo.

He usually left the office around five or seven.

At least, that was what I had been told.

He liked working from home.

So perhaps he was asleep.

Or perhaps he was still working.

I picked up my phone.

Typed.

You up?

I waited.

A few minutes passed.

Then my screen lit up.

Yes, I’m up. Everything okay?

I stared at the message.

Something was wrong.

Cairo didn’t ask me if everything was okay.

Usually, his responses were short.

Yes.

I’m home.

I’m working.

That was it.

But tonight?

Everything okay?

My instincts immediately sharpened.

I called.

No answer.

A few seconds later, my phone vibrated.

I can’t talk right now.

My jaw tightened.

I typed.

Why can’t you talk?

Nothing.

I called again.

This time, he answered.

“Hello?”

I heard music.

Loud music.

Bass.

Voices.

Men laughing.

My entire body went still.

“Where the hell are you?”

There was silence.

Then Cairo hesitated.

“Uh…”

My grip tightened around the phone.

“I… we’re at a club.”

“Who is we?”

“Me and Caleb.”

My eyes closed.

Of course.

“Where?”

“Downtown.”

“What club?”

“It’s a new club.”

“What club, Cairo?”

He sighed.

“Xander, you don’t need to come.”

“I am not coming there to sit at the club with you.”

My voice dropped.

“I’m coming to pick you up.”

Silence.

“Where the hell is the club?”

Perhaps my voice had become too sharp.

Because Cairo finally gave me the name.

And the location.

I ended the call.

I grabbed my keys.

⸻

The drive downtown felt longer than it should have.

I didn’t know what bothered me more.

The fact that Cairo had gone out without telling me.

The fact that he was in a crowded club.

Or the fact that there were men there.

Men who could see him.

Men who could approach him.

Men who could touch him.

My hands tightened around the steering wheel.

I knew I was possessive.

I had always known.

But there were moments when even I realized how far it went.

Tonight was one of them.

I pulled into the club.

The music could be heard from outside.

I walked through the entrance.

People moved aside.

I didn’t notice them.

My eyes were searching.

And then I saw them.

Caleb was laughing.

And Cairo was sitting beside him.

My anger should have settled.

It didn’t.

Because Cairo was wearing—

No.

Absolutely not.

My entire body went rigid.

The outfit was made from soft, silky fabric, delicate straps resting against his shoulders.

His arms were exposed.

His neck.

His collarbones.

The smooth line of his shoulders.

Too much skin.

Far too much.

My jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

Cairo looked beautiful.

That was the problem.

He looked devastating.

And every person in that room could see it.

I hated it.

I hated the eyes that were wandering in his direction.

I hated the possibility of someone approaching him.

I hated the thought that another man might have spent the entire evening looking at him.

My blood felt hot.

I walked toward them.

Cairo noticed me first.

His expression changed.

Fear.

Then surprise.

Caleb looked over.

His smile disappeared.

I stopped in front of them.

“Get up.”

Caleb blinked.

“Xander, why—”

I looked at him.

Just looked.

He immediately stopped speaking.

He knew that look.

He had known it since childhood.

Then I looked at Cairo.

“Get up.”

Cairo swallowed.

“Xander…”

“Do you want me to repeat myself?”

He slowly stood.

I didn’t say anything else.

I turned and walked toward the exit.

After a moment, I heard his footsteps behind me.

Good.

⸻

Outside, Cairo followed me toward the parking lot.

He was carrying the Chanel bag I’d seen him buy.

Of course.

I noticed everything about him.

I always did.

When we reached the car, he stopped.

“I’m going home.”

I turned.

“I told you to get in the car.”

He hesitated.

Then opened the passenger door.

He got inside.

I walked around and got behind the wheel.

Neither of us spoke.

I started the engine.

My hands were tight around the steering wheel.

I could still see the outfit from the corner of my eye.

His bare arms.

His shoulders.

His neck.

I hated it.

I hated every damn inch of it.

Not because I didn’t appreciate Cairo’s beauty.

God knew I did.

I had spent years memorizing it.

But I didn’t want anyone else seeing what I saw.

That was the difference.

Cairo didn’t understand.

Maybe he never would.

He glanced at me once.

Then looked out the window.

A few minutes later, he glanced at me again.

I caught him.

He immediately looked away.

He was frightened.

I knew.

And some part of me hated that.

Another part thought he should be careful when I was angry.

We drove in silence.

⸻

The gates to my house opened automatically.

I drove inside.

Stopped.

Turned off the engine.

Then looked at Cairo.

“Calm down.”

My voice was firm.

He immediately lowered his shoulders.

He wasn’t saying anything.

We got out.

Walked inside.

The moment the door closed behind us, I finally looked at him properly.

“What the hell are you wearing?”

Cairo looked down at himself.

“Xander…”

“What is this?”

“It’s just an outfit.”

“Just an outfit?”

He nodded.

“It’s appropriate for the club.”

I stared at him.

“Why the hell is that appropriate?”

His expression became uncertain.

“It was just what I wanted to wear.”

“Do you want other men to see you?”

He looked at me.

“What?”

“Do you?”

“No.”

“Then why are you dressed like that?”

His eyes widened.

“Xander, it’s just an outfit.”

“That isn’t just an outfit.”

My voice rose.

“That’s revealing clothing.”

Cairo took a small step backward.

I saw it.

The panic.

I stopped myself.

But I was still furious.

I couldn’t understand him.

How could someone so gentle be so stubborn?

How could he not understand what happened when he walked into a room dressed like that?

How could he not know what people were thinking?

“I want to go home,” he whispered.

I stared at him.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

“Home.”

“Do you want to piss me off more?”

He went silent.

“I’m already pissed enough.”

His eyes dropped.

I took a breath.

“Go upstairs.”

He looked at me.

“I said go upstairs.”

“Okay.”

He turned.

“Go to bed.”

He started walking.

Then I remembered something.

“My room.”

He stopped.

“What?”

“Go to my room.”

He stared at me.

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

He hesitated.

Then quietly walked upstairs.

I watched until he disappeared.

The house became silent.

⸻

I paced.

Once.

Twice.

Again.

Forty-five minutes.

I couldn’t stop.

I was furious.

Jealous.

Possessive.

And completely aware that I had no business feeling entitled to any of this.

But knowing something was irrational had never made me stop feeling it.

I kept seeing him in that outfit.

How many men had looked at him?

How many had smiled?

How many had imagined touching him?

My fists tightened.

I hated the thoughts.

I hated the jealousy.

Most of all, I hated that Cairo had no idea what he did to me.

He had no idea how long I had spent wanting him.

How long I had watched from a distance.

How many years I had forced myself not to interfere.

And now he was back.

And suddenly every boundary I had carefully built around myself was disappearing.

I stopped pacing.

I looked toward the stairs.

Maybe he was awake.

Maybe he was angry.

Maybe he was afraid.

I didn’t know.

Eventually, I went upstairs.

I opened the bedroom door quietly.

And stopped.

Cairo was asleep.

Completely asleep.

He had curled himself into a small ball on one side of my bed.

His face was half-hidden against the pillow.

His breathing was slow and peaceful.

As though he hadn’t spent the last hour driving me insane.

I stood there.

Silent.

Looking at him.

How could someone so small cause so much chaos inside me?

I had spent years dealing with billion-dollar negotiations without losing my temper.

I could walk into a hostile boardroom and remain perfectly calm.

I could negotiate with people twice my age and never blink.

But Cairo?

One outfit.

One night out.

One unanswered text.

And I was standing there questioning my sanity.

I walked closer.

He didn’t wake.

His eyelashes rested against his cheeks.

His face looked even softer in sleep.

Beautiful.

Peaceful.

Mine.

The thought came naturally.

Mine.

I stared at him for another moment.

Then stepped back.

He was sleeping.

I wasn’t going to wake him.

Not tonight.

I left the room and closed the door quietly.

Back downstairs, I poured another drink.

I stood by the window.

The city was quiet beneath me.

Cairo was upstairs.

In my room.

Under my roof.

Safe.

That should have been enough.

It wasn’t.

Because the truth was simple.

I didn’t want Cairo merely safe.

I wanted him close.

I wanted him protected.

I wanted to know where he was.

Who he was with.

Who had his attention.

Who had the privilege of seeing that smile.

And yes—

I wanted to be the only man who could look at him and feel the way I did.

I knew how obsessive it sounded.

I knew how controlling it was.

But I had never pretended to be normal where Cairo was concerned.

I had loved him for too long.

Wanted him for too long.

Waited for him for too long.

Four years had been my limit.

Cairo was home now.

And whether he understood it yet or not, everything had changed.

He could fight me.

He could be angry with me.

He could tell me I was being unreasonable.

Perhaps he would.

But I wasn’t going anywhere.

Not now.

Not when he was finally within reach.

Not when four years of distance had finally ended.

I took another sip of my drink and looked toward the stairs.

Cairo was asleep upstairs.

For tonight, that was enough.

Tomorrow, I would deal with everything else.