The Incest

Chapter eleven

Xavier’s POV

The car ride felt like it lasted forever. Not because of the distance, nah — it was because of her.

Cora sat on the farthest side of the backseat like I carried some contagious disease. Headphones in, knees tucked up, staring out the window as if the scenery suddenly became her new best friend. I couldn’t even see her reflection in the tinted glass because she angled her head so damn hard away from me.

And the worst part? I knew why.

It’s been days since she’s barely spoken to me. No side-eyes. No sarcastic comments. No stupid little “ugh, Xavier” whenever I teased her. She just cut me off cold. Like I was invisible. And for the first time in my life, being ignored didn’t feel peaceful — it felt like torture.

I leaned back in the leather seat, stretching my legs just to irritate her, tapping my sneaker against her sandal deliberately.

“Seriously?” she muttered, shoving my foot away without looking at me.

I smirked. “Finally. A word.”

Nothing. She tugged her hoodie strings tighter and pressed her cheek harder to the glass.

Okay. Cold war continues.

But I wasn’t gonna let it end like that. Not here. Not when we were about to be trapped together on this so-called “vacation” Mom was ridiculously excited about.

I bent closer, just enough that my breath brushed her ear. “You’re mad cute when you’re pretending I don’t exist, you know that?”

She flinched, pulling her hood up higher. Still no glance.

Her silence was starting to eat at me. I wanted her to snap, to roll her eyes, to fight back. Anything but this damn quiet.

So I kept talking. Low, teasing. “Bet you were praying I’d miss this trip, huh? Sorry, princess. You’re stuck with me for days. No escape.”

Her hand balled into a fist in her lap. Got her.

The driver cleared his throat like he could cut the tension with a knife, but I didn’t even care. My eyes stayed locked on her profile — the way her lips pressed thin, the way her jaw flexed like she was trying not to react.

And deep down, it made my chest feel like it was on fire.

Because I wasn’t saying this just to annoy her. I meant it. Every damn word.

She was stuck with me — and I was stuck with her.

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The car finally rolled to a stop, gravel crunching under the tires. I didn’t even wait for the driver — I hopped out first, stretching my arms like I’d just escaped prison. The air was different here, lighter, carrying that faint salty tang from the ocean down the hill.

The villa loomed in front of us — all white stone, glass walls, and balconies that practically begged for trouble. Mom had picked it out, of course. “Relaxing and quiet,” she’d said with that bright smile. Yeah, sure. More like a stage she unknowingly set for me and Cora to kill each other.

I turned just in time to see her step out, tugging her hoodie tighter like she wanted to disappear into it. The driver offered to carry her bag — she shook her head, muttered a quick thanks, and hauled it herself. Always stubborn. Always “I don’t need help.”

“Cute,” I said, watching her nearly trip over the uneven stone path with the suitcase wheels. “You planning to wrestle the luggage the whole week, or you want me to be a gentleman?”

“Don’t start,” she muttered without even glancing at me, dragging the suitcase harder like she was trying to prove something.

I let her go a few steps ahead. But I wasn’t about to let her shut me out completely.

Inside, the villa was stupidly gorgeous — high ceilings, open space, sunlight flooding through every corner. The kind of place people post on i********: with the caption living my best life.

I watched her eyes flick around, just for a second, before she caught herself and shoved the awe down like she didn’t care. She dumped her suitcase near the stairs and crossed her arms.

“So… which side of the mansion are you taking?” she asked flatly.

I smirked, leaning on the railing. “Whichever one keeps me close to you.”

Her eyes snapped to mine, wide for just a beat, then narrowed into a glare. “You’re annoying.”

“And you’re lying,” I shot back, taking a step closer.

Her throat bobbed as she looked away, mumbling something I couldn’t catch. Probably another curse aimed at me.

Perfect. At least she was reacting now.

I brushed past her, deliberately close, my hand brushing her waist for the quickest second. She stiffened but didn’t move away. My pulse spiked.

“Relax,” I murmured near her ear, “it’s just a vacation.”

Her sharp inhale told me exactly how much she didn’t believe that.

And honestly? Neither did I.

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