His velvet obsession

PROLOGUE: The Point of No Return

  The silk of my gown felt like a second skin, but Xavier’s hands felt like fire.

  We were in the library, the heavy oak doors locked against a house full of people who thought we were family. Outside, the gala hummed the clinking of champagne flutes, the soft orchestra, my father’s booming laugh. But inside, the air was thick with a sin I couldn’t take back.

  "Astrid," he groaned against the hollow of my throat. His voice wasn’t the one I grew up with. It was dark. Hungry. Rougher than the silk slipping off my shoulder. "Look at me."

I did. And in his eyes, I didn't see the stepbrother who had been gone for three years. I saw Xavier Mattoe a man who had been waiting a lifetime to break me.

  "We can’t," I whispered, even as I arched into him, my heart hammering against my ribs. "Xavier, if they find us… my father will kill you.

  Your father doesn’t own you anymore," he rasped, his grip tightening on my waist, pulling me flush against the hard, demanding heat of his body. He leaned down, his lips brushing mine, tasting of expensive vanilla cake and dangerous promises. "I do. I own every breath you take in this house."

  That was the night I realized some rules aren’t just meant to be broken. They are meant to be incinerated .

  (Six Months Earlier)

  I don’t remember the first day I realized my mother wasn’t coming back. She was gone the moment I took my first breath, leaving me with a debt of grief I never knew how to pay.

  Maybe it was always there this soft, empty space in my life that no one wanted to talk about. I grew up with a name I didn’t understand, a silver picture frame beside my bed that felt cold to the touch, and a father who gave me everything except the answers I craved.

  Her name was Rina Lyrien. Mine is Astrid. My father picked it because he said it sounded expensive. He always had a thing for appearances, for things that shimmered on the surface regardless of how hollow they were underneath.

  Today, I turned eighteen.

  I should feel older. Freer, maybe. But I woke up in the same silk sheets, with the same tight feeling in my chest that whispered I was running out of time. Nothing about me feels grown. Nothing about this house feels like home anymore. It’s too big. Too perfect. The kind of place where you hear clocks ticking in the silence, counting down the seconds of a life pre determined by men in dark suits.

  Sometimes I imagine what she might’ve been like. A soft voice. Kind eyes. Maybe the kind of woman who brushed my hair before bed and kissed my forehead without rushing out the door. I don’t know if that version ever existed, or if I simply invented her to fill the echoing hallways of this mansion.

  All I know is this life no matter how many carats or silk threads it’s draped in—feels empty without her.

  I finished college early. That’s what happens when you’re homeschooled by the best tutors and don’t have any real friends to distract you. My life was planned before I even knew what a choice was. I was a project to be completed, a piece of the family legacy to be polished.

  I walked down the hallway like I always do barefoot, quiet. You’d think I’d be used to marble floors and crystal chandeliers by now, but it still feels like I’m walking through a museum instead of a home. Everything is spotless. Like no one really lives here. Just ghosts and footsteps.

  My father was already in his office. He doesn’t sleep much; he prefers to watch his empire grow in the dark. He’s always been… distant. Not cruel, just cold. Always in meetings, always building walls I couldn't climb.

  He looked at me this morning for the first time in weeks. His eyes softened for a split second, a flicker of something human behind the CEO mask.

  “You’re eighteen now,” he said. No smile. Just the words.

  I nodded, clutching my silk robe tighter. “I know.”

  “I’m proud of you, Astrid. You’ve become exactly what this family needs.” He paused, checking his gold watch, the movement precise and clinical. “Which is why I’ve made sure your security is settled. Xavier Mattoe is arriving this afternoon. He’s finished his business in London, and he’ll be staying in the East Wing permanently.”

  The name hit me like a physical blow, stealing the air from my lungs. Xavier. My stepbrother. The boy who was all sharp edges and dark promises. The one person who knew exactly how to make me tremble with a single look. I hadn't seen him in three years, not since the night he was sent away the night I realized that his "protection" felt a lot like possession.

  “He’s a man now, Astrid,” my father continued, already turning back to his computer. “Not the boy you used to follow around. Stay out of his way. Xavier has… changed. He’s ruthless, even by my standards.”

  I walked back to my room, my heart hammering against my ribs. I thought I was safe. I thought I had grown up and buried the memory of the way Xavier used to watch me from the shadows of the staircase.

  But as I looked at my reflection in the floor to ceiling mirror, I didn't see a woman celebrating her birthday. I saw a girl who had just been told the wolf was back at the door. And this time, there was no one left to protect me from him.