I dressed in record time, mostly out of pure fear that Xander really would storm back in and help me “put my clothes on,” as he so boldly threatened.

But I wasn’t planning to go anywhere. Not when he refused again to tell me where we were heading.

The moment he knocked on my door for the second time, I inhaled sharply, planting my hand on the doorknob and rehearsing my lie in my head like some bad actress preparing for a drama audition.

The door swung open.

Xander stood there, hands ...