Red Night: Xavier's Delight

All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. For information contact: http://authorkittyking.com Cover Design by Gemini Cover Designs Editing by Susan Keillor and Roxanna Coumans ASIN: B0BY7N3NQH (eBook) ISBN : 979-8-9880503-0-8 (Paperback) First Edition: January 2023 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 Created with Vellum Contents Author’s Note Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Epilogue Acknowledgments About the Author Also by Kitty King Next in the Series… Author’s Note This dark romance work of fiction contains topics involving child rape, murder, and suicide (only mentioned and not in detail). Full list of content warnings on my website. Due to the graphic nature of the sex scenes and most certainly the mental content, would recommend for readers 18 and older. The hero isn’t necessarily heroic. He’s possessive and obsessive to a fault. It’s up to you to decide if he’s redeemable or not. Chapter One AN INVITATION “He said my last set was ‘mimicked copies of real work’ and ‘filled with emotional naivety.’” I mocked my advisor’s voice. James and I had been eating lunch on the dry grass in the quad. The wind smelled like autumn was well on its way, making me dread my upcoming classes. I would have to enjoy the break before the stresses of university sabotaged my peace. “Fuck ‘em. You’re a great photographer, baby.” James leaned over to peck my cheek while attempting to throw his empty paper bag in the recycling bin nearby. He missed, but a pledge from his fraternity caught it and put it in for him. “Hey, James!” James saluted the underclassman. “Hey, James’ girlfriend!” I smiled in reply as he wandered away. Snagging James’ jeans to get his attention, I continued, “I can’t ignore his critiques. He’s the Mr. Devon Hall.” My voice was whiny. “I’m supposed to be baking him cupcakes and licking the crumbs off his hairy chest or something. At least, that’s what Selyne told me last year. He’s already called me into his office this week for more roasting.” Over the last year, Mr. Hall often requested I visit his office hours, sighing with the heavy burden of having me as a mentee. I wasn’t great at art, but I tried my best. When I would bring that up, Mr. Hall suggested I visit his studio to watch him work. The way he sometimes looked at me had so far prevented my acceptance. James was checking social media on his phone, hearting pictures with a blaze of his thumb. He murmured, “Ignore him; keep being yourself. You have talent.” He paused on a photo of his friend Mack Donaldson with his new boyfriend. James unliked the image. Just don’t give a fuck was James’ philosophy. He could afford that privilege. After his undergraduate, he’d move to California, attend a fancy law school, and make partner at his father’s firm. He never had to worry about what he would do for money once he graduated. I wasted time and my parents’ money on an art degree. My father insisted I go to college while he would cover my costs. Art was the only thing I could think of to study. Dad warned me I would never make any money, but he was still supportive when I chose the major. The closer I got to graduation, the more my stomach knotted. I had no plan for what to do after. Maybe I could get a job at a ritzy coffee shop and become independent before the age of thirty-five. Or sell nude photos online before I lost my body. Rubbing the back of my neck, I glanced around the lawn at the groups of Northview University students lulling about in the sun. The buildings cast nebulous silhouettes on our side of the quad. I envisioned a series of architectural photos for next week’s project. While studying the prisms from a nearby stained glass, I was drawn to a tall, dark figure that emerged from the business building. Xavier Cardell had model looks with sleek black hair perfectly tousled in a way that made it seem as if some girl had just run her fingers through it–which she probably had–and a body that screamed “gym bro.” Heir to Cardell Enterprises, the business that owned the majority of town and most everyone in it, he was untouchable. By the way he carried himself, he knew it. Strolling up to James with a red envelope in his hand, the god himself approached with two leggy blondes by his side. Each woman grasped a muscular, tattooed bicep and appeared discontented, having to walk the same path as the peasants. “James Stevenson.” Xavier’s sculpted body stood over my boyfriend, casting a shadow on our little picnic. His darkness caused such an eclipse that I wondered if anyone’s light could shine through the void. James tried not to cough on his dill pickle and replied, “Uh, yeah. That’s me. Can I help you?” When he investigated the handsome face, James’ jaw fell open slightly. Xavier’s face held a chiseled jaw that looked like he was constantly sucking on something bitter. The blondes looked around for someone better to talk to. “Yeah, I’ve seen you around.” Xavier dropped the red envelope in James’ hand. “Hope you can join us. Oh, and make sure to bring your girlfriend.” Xavier nodded the top of his head toward me,