The Billionaire's Virgin(19)

“My place is right at the top,” Xavier said casually as he came to stand beside her. “You’ll like it. Got views forever.”

She tipped her head back to see what she hadn’t been able to in the car—the top of the building pushing upward into the night sky. And an odd dizzy feeling caught her, like she was falling upward into the blackness above her head. She swayed, for a second overcome, and then felt something warm and strong and steadying settle in the small of her back. Xavier’s hand.

Her brain tried to tell her muscles to stiffen and flinch away, but nothing was obeying her at this particular moment in time. Instead, horribly, she felt herself lean against that hand as if she needed it for support.

“It’s okay.” The quiet certainty in his voice wound around her, soothing something inside her. “Take a minute.”

But she didn’t want to take a minute. She wanted him not to be touching her because she didn’t like all these new feelings crowding for space inside her. Didn’t like how some deep part of her wanted to lean further back into his hand and take the support he was giving her. Which was stupid and dumb. Trust no one, hadn’t she learned that over and over again?

It took effort to pull away from him and it was far harder than she wanted it to be. And when she did, there was a cold spot where his hand had been, as if her body missed the warmth.

No, stupid and dumb to think like that. Just like she was stupid and dumb for not eating, because that’s where the dizziness had come from, no question.

“You said you wouldn’t touch me,” she snapped, putting more space between them.

“Sorry.” He sounded not sorry at all, amusement glittering in his blue eyes. “I didn’t think you’d want to fall over onto the pavement and crack your head open.”

She gave him a fierce look. He was laughing at her and she didn’t understand why. What was so funny about not wanting to be touched?

He sobered after a moment. “I apologize. Seriously. Now come on, let’s go inside and get you out of those wet clothes.” A pause, and for a second that amusement was back. “Do you know, that’s the first time I’ve ever said that to a woman and literally meant that she needed to get out of her wet clothes.”

She scowled at him. What the hell was he talking about?

“You know, because I was worried about her getting pneumonia and not because I wanted to bang her.” He shook his head, pushing his hands into the pockets of his overcoat. “Never mind. Let’s just get inside shall we?”

He led the way and again, she had the strange experience of yet another man pulling a door open for her as the doorman rushed out to greet them.

“Good evening, Mr. de Santis,” he said, smiling at him while giving her a suspicious glance.

“Good evening, Joe.” Xavier grinned. “This here is Mia—?” He paused and glanced at her questioningly.

She stared back, not sure what he was asking her. Because if it was for a surname, she pretty much didn’t have one, or at least not one she remembered.

An awkward silence followed and then Xavier went on, smoothly covering the moment as if it had never happened. “Like I said, this is Mia. She has free run of the building tonight, understand?”

Joe didn’t even blink, the suspicion in his face dying out. “Sure. Anything you say, Mr. de Santis.”

Luckily Xavier didn’t seem to need her to speak, ushering her through a vaulted foyer that seemed to be all white marble and glass and over to a bank of elevators. He pressed a button and the door opened immediately, revealing a mirrored interior.

The sight of herself was a shock, because apart from a little bathroom time in the shelter, she never had opportunity to look at herself in the mirror. Quite frankly, she never wanted to either, since she had more important things to worry about than her appearance. But now, stepping into this elevator, her own reflection hit her across the face like a slap.

Small, hollow-cheeked, pale. Dark circles under her eyes. Dirty orange hat. Dirty brown overcoat.

A terrible feeling of shame overcame her and she had to look away, stare at the floor as the doors closed, because she didn’t want to see that person in the mirror. She’d always prided herself on keeping clean, on washing her hair and her body when she had the chance. But apparently being clean didn’t matter when you were wearing clothes you couldn’t wash and when you couldn’t get enough sleep because of the cold or because you were worried someone might creep up on you and murder you in the night.

Xavier said nothing as the elevator began climbing up the floors, making her ears pop. She could feel him looking at her, studying her. What must he think of her now? In the bright light of the elevator car? She’d never given other people’s opinions much thought, not when her own survival was much more important. Yet for some reason, right now, she kind of cared what he thought about her.