“Xavier, huh? That’s a mouthful,” I said, lamely. “Just call me Xav, and you are…,” he asked. “Izzy,” I answered. “Izzy…you cer...ainly don’t look like an Izzy. Is that short for Izabelle?” he prompted. “Izabella,” I mumbled. Xav leaned back against the couch. His crisp, linen shirt pulled taut across his, in my opinion, massive chest. He just sat there, sat there staring at me. I almost felt like I was a science project, like he was studying me. By the time he spoke again, my stomach was in. He could have gone over the side for all I care. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve had a very long day.” “Don’t you care that there’s a killer somewhere in your factory?” “A killer? Listen, he probably drank too much ardour and did his heart in, that’s all.” “Right, that’s all,” I agreed, walking over to his door and pulling it open. “Only one thing troubles me,” I said, looking back over my shoulder. “And what’s that?” “I’ve never seen a heart attack leave that amount of blood on a floor.” I. More

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