CHAPTER 6
She flinched at first in hearing it. Maybe it was just in her head. But her heart suddenly raised, and she felt her body awake in excitement from assuming that she actually heard him.
"Alisson?"
Her eyes snapped open, and she raised her head. Her hazel eyes scanned the darkness in that direction. A man was blocking the little lights in the far distance, which made his silhouette clearer. His broad shoulders and tall frame were sharper. She blinked at him. She wasn't imagining it after all.
Xavion's voice reached her, hesitant and uncertain if it was really her. He stood several meters away, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the darkness around her chair. When she lifted her face, he let out a long breath, full of relief.
He walked closer, taking out his phone. "I found her," he said into it. "She's safe. We'll be back shortly." After that, he ended the call and put the phone in his pocket.
He paused next to her chair, brows slightly furrowed. "Aunt couldn't reach your phone. Everyone's looking for you. You made everyone worry." His voice was deep and steady, but there was an undeniable urgency beneath it.
Alisson didn't reply right away. She just stared.
His suit jacket hung casually over his arm. His white dress shirt and black vest fit him perfectly. He looked neat, precise, and striking. A few strands of his sleek hair brushed across his brow from the ocean wind.
He seemed like the type of man anyone would approach with caution—capable and composed, with a dangerous charisma. But when he looked at her, his expression held concern, not predation.
She tilted her head slightly, a teasing smile forming on her lips. "Including you?"
Xavion blinked, caught off guard.
Her smile widened. He really was a fine man. More than fine. His calm and grounded approach felt refreshing. Most men she met were either boastful or annoyingly bold. Many jumped straight into flirting or made unwanted physical contact.
But he? Even earlier, when she had pulled him by the arm for photos, he hadn't tried to get closer than necessary. He never took advantage of their proximity.
It impressed her. Rarely did any man show such restraint around her. She could count them on one hand.
And now here he was, looking at her with confusion and concern, unaware that he was making her curiosity grow.
Xavion tilted his head down and caught the faint curl of her lips. She was teasing him, obviously. Up close, her features seemed almost unreal. Angelic. But when she smiled like that, she looked like a seductress pretending to be an angel.
He gulped, cleared his throat, and looked away toward the dark stretch of ocean. "Of course," he said, his voice low. "You're family now."
"Hmm." She nodded, barely acknowledging it. "Right."
She still wasn't sure how to feel about that. Should she be amused, irritated, or just accept fate as it was?
Her gaze drifted back to the water while she wrapped her arms around herself for warmth.
"Do you feel better now?" he asked.
That caught her off guard. Not Are you okay? Not What happened? Just a straightforward, grounded question.
She looked up at him, but he was already watching her as he extended his suit jacket toward her.
The fabric brushed her cheek.
"Take it," he casually said, like a command.
She blinked at the jacket, then at him, her expression slowly shifting to mild amusement.
He frowned a little. "It's cold," he insisted, pushing the jacket closer, almost hitting her nose.
Alisson found it thoroughly entertaining. Her brows furrowed, not of irritation.
Most men would have dramatically draped the jacket over her shoulders like some cliché romantic scene. Unasked, unnecessary, and overconfident.
But this man? This dangerously attractive, perfectly composed gentleman?
He practically shoved the jacket at her like he was handing over a hostage.
It was unintentionally adorable. She had to press her lips together to hold back her laughter.
Instead of taking the jacket, Alisson slowly got to her feet, smoothing her dress as she rose.
Xavion straightened up instinctively. For a brief moment, he wondered if the wind had shifted or if something else had changed between them.
He slowly brought his jacket back to his side. He didn't know what she had on her mind.
Alisson moved to the side to stand right before him. They stood against each other at arm's length. The sea was right behind her, wind blowing her hair, but it didn't obstruct her face.
Then she extended her hand toward him, delicate but firm, elegant but bold.
"Alisson McKenzie," she said, introducing herself formally, as if they weren't at a beach in the fading light but at a private gala.
He looked at her hand momentarily before he took out his own from his pocket. He accepted her hand. His own closed around hers, warm and steady. "Xavion Isidor," he replied, equally formal.
She took a step forward, cutting the distance between them in half, invading a proper personal space. There was only a step before her boots touched his shoes. "It's a great pleasure to meet you, stepbrother."
She flashed a dazzling smile, the kind that could knock the air out of anyone foolish enough to look directly at her.
His breath hitched—just barely, but enough for her to notice.
The wind blew through her hair, sending soft waves cascading behind her like she'd stepped out of a slow-motion film. Her surreal beauty hit him all at once.
Xavion wasn't sure if the pleasure she mentioned applied to him, or if he should be mildly alarmed that a woman like this was now, technically, related to him.
His silence stretched on too long.
Her radiant smile slowly turned into a small pout. "Aren't you glad to have a sister like me?" He could somehow see the mischief in her eyes and sense it in her tone.
Before he could come up with a coherent response, she moved half a step closer, still holding his hand.
And he didn't let go either.
She tilted her chin up to look at him properly, her eyes shimmering with challenge, curiosity, and maybe amusement. And only then did she realize how tall he really was. With her three-inch platform boots, her posture was confident and commanding. Yet even with the height boost, he still towered over her by almost a foot.
She liked it. A lot. She had to tilt her head back higher to meet his eyes.
Xavion's heart thudded once—loudly.
Glad? He had no idea how he felt. He only knew one thing: This woman was trouble.
The beautiful, impossible, dangerously enchanting type of trouble.
And her hand fit a little too well in his.