ログインXavier’s POV The candlelight flickered across the table like it knew exactly what it was doing—casting her in that soft lavender glow that made every inch of her look edible. Astrid sat there picking at the last of her velvet cake, the silk of her gown stretched tight over her breasts with every shallow breath. That damn slit kept flashing thigh every time she crossed her legs, and I was one second away from dragging her onto my lap and forgetting the whole “civilized dinner” pretense. She’s still fighting it. My little enemy captive, the one who used to glare at me like I was the devil himself. Now she’s wearing the color I chose for her, blushing because I fed her from my spoon. One week away and she’s already cracking. Good. I want her addicted before she even realizes she’s mine. I leaned across the table again, spooning another slow bite of cake. “Open for me, Velvet.” Her dark eyes flicked up, a mix of defiance and something hotter. “You’re really enjoying this power trip, a
Xavier's POV The silence of the penthouse was usually a sanctuary, but tonight, it felt like a pressure cooker. I had burned through the week like a man possessed, trying to scrub the memory of her defiance and that phone call out of my system. The flight back had been restless. Even after the distractions of the city, my skin felt like it was crawling. I’d discarded my clothes the moment I stepped off the jet; the scent of the club, of other women, felt like a sickness. The only scent I wanted was the one that belonged to the girl currently haunting every corner of my mind. I stood by the window, Georgia skyline a jagged line of gold and shadow. I had been waiting since 6:00 PM. It was now 7:30 PM. The soft click of heels on marble echoed through the dining hall. I turned slowly, and for a moment, the air simply vanished from my lungs. She was descending the stairs like a vision carved from my own
Astrid’s POV The steam from the shower was still clinging to my skin, mirroring the fog in my brain. I stood in the middle of my walk-in closet—which was basically a small apartment for shoes—wrapped in a plush white robe that felt like a cloud. Ava had dropped the bomb an hour ago: He’s coming back tonight. And for some reason, my heart had decided to run a marathon ever since. I was currently staring at a row of silk dresses as if they held the secrets to the universe. Why did I care? He was my jailer. He was the man who had spanked me and locked me up. I should be wearing a burlap sack and scowling. Instead, I was biting my lip, wondering if he liked emerald green or midnight black. "Why do I even care so much about what to wear?! Ahhhhhhhh!" I screamed in pure, unadulterated frustration, throwing a stray hanger at the mirror. "Princess, why are you acting like a mad woman?" Ava’s voice drifted in, followed by the woman herself. She was leaning against the doorframe, covering
Astrid’s POV The chime of the electronic lock didn't sound like a threat this morning. It sounded like a symphony. I was already standing by the door, dressed in a pair of soft black leggings and a cropped tank top, my heart hammering against my ribs. When the door swung open, I didn't see the shadow of the Reaper. I saw Ava, leaning against the doorframe with a look that was remarkably less lethal than usual. "Xavier says you can go out now," she said, her voice dry. My breath hitched. "You mean... out? Out of the gate? To the street?" I asked, my voice rising in a frantic, hopeful pitch. I could almost taste smog, and God, even the smog sounded better than this filtered, expensive air. Ava gave me a flat look, the kind you give a puppy that thinks it’s going for a walk but is actually going to the vet. "No, princess. Just inside the penthouse. The lockdown on your bedroom is lifted, but the front gates are still a 'no-g
Rated 🔞 Xavier’s POV The steering wheel of the Cullinan groaned under the white-knuckled pressure of my grip. My chest felt like it had been hollowed out, filled with a volatile mix of residual adrenaline and a dark, suffocating need for quiet. I reached for my phone, the screen illuminating my face with a cold, ghostly pallor. I hit the speed dial for the one person I trusted to hold the line while I was wading through the wreckage of my own making. Ava picked up on the first ring. She didn't say a word; she knew better than to offer platitudes when the air around me was still thick with the scent of a fresh kill. "Let her out of her room tomorrow," I commanded, my voice sounding like gravel grinding against steel. "Let her roam the penthouse. But Ava—if she so much as breathes on the latch of that front gate, if she goes missing for even a second... you’re dead. Do you understand me?" I didn't wait for her to confirm. I didn't want to hear her voice. I ended the call and to
Xavier’s POVThe basement of the industrial warehouse in East London didn't smell like the penthouse. There was no scent of expensive scotch or cedarwood here. It smelled of stagnant water, rusted iron, and the sharp, acidic tang of terror.I stood in the shadows, my coat draped over my shoulders like a shroud. I hadn't slept in four days. My eyes were gritty, my jaw tight enough to snap bone, and my soul felt like it had been scraped raw.In the center of the concrete floor, Robert—the man I had trusted to run my Australian interests for five years—was stripped of his dignity and his clothes. He was trembling so violently that his knees knocked together, the sound echoing in the high-ceilinged room. Surrounding him were twelve of my most elite Bratva enforcers, their faces carved from stone, their silenced submachine guns held with casual, lethal familiarity.I stepped forward, the light from the single overhead bulb catching the sharp edge of my silhouette."Please... Don Xavi
Xavier pov Stay down!" I roared back. The first 'Cleaner' rounded the corner, a faceless shadow in tactical gear and a gas mask. I didn't hesitate. I squeezed the trigger, the suppressed thud-thud-thud of my weapon echoing in the small room. He dropped before he could even raise his gun. Two m
Xavier's POVThe steel door of the bunker groaned as I disengaged the manual deadbolts. I shouldn’t have had to do it. This mountain was a fortress of my own design—triple-redundant encryption, biometric locks that required my specific pulse, and sensors sensitive enough to detect a hawk landing on
Xaviers povThe silence of the bunker was a living thing, heavy and suffocating. Every breath I took felt like a betrayal to the quiet, a jagged serration against the stillness she had finally found in sleep. I watched her—the rise and fall of her shoulders under that rough wool blanket—and felt a s
Xavier’s POVThe penthouse was too quiet.After the rhythmic thrum of the helicopter and the echoing screams of the mountain, the stillness of the city at 3:00 AM felt like a physical pressure against my eardrums. I stood in my office, the only light coming from the glowing monitors on my desk. I w







