4. Hot Kiss

"You truly are a devil, Xavier!" Elara cried out as she struggled to break free from his grip, fleeing the room with suppressed rage.

Xavier watched her go, a smirk spreading across his face. He brushed his thumb over his bottom lip. "This devil is the one who will give you pleasure, Mama!"

Tonight, the Vaughn estate felt more suffocating than usual. Elara stood before the large mirror in her room, her fingers trembling as they touched the black choker wrapped tightly around her neck. It felt like an invisible chain, a constant reminder that wherever she went, Xavier was watching.

"Elara? Are you in there?" Maximilian’s voice called from behind the door, followed by the soft hum of his electric wheelchair.

Elara quickly adjusted her silk nightgown—a flimsy thing chosen by Maximilian that always made her feel practically naked. Maximilian looked different tonight. There was a glint of triumph in his eyes, which were usually filled only with frustration.

"Come here," Maximilian commanded.

Elara approached, her heart sinking as she watched Maximilian attempt to lift one leg. The movement was minuscule—just a slight twitch in the tip of his toe—but for a man who had been completely paralyzed, it was a miracle.

"Do you see that? The doctor said this latest therapy is showing results remarkably fast. It’s all thanks to you, honey," Maximilian reached for Elara’s hand, pulling her to sit on the edge of the bed. "I feel alive again, Elara. And when I can finally stand, the first thing I will do is give you a true Vaughn heir."

Elara’s stomach churned. The thought of carrying this man's child felt like a living nightmare. However, her fear peaked as she remembered Xavier’s threat. Her phone, sitting on the nightstand, suddenly vibrated—a single notification.

She knew it was from Xavier. He was likely watching through the tracker or perhaps even bugging the room.

"Why are you so pale?" Maximilian squinted, his hand creeping toward Elara’s neck, touching the new choker. "This is beautiful. Who gave this to you? I don't recall buying it."

Elara’s heart nearly leaped out of her chest. "I-it... I bought it this afternoon after leaving the office. I thought you would like it."

Maximilian gave a dry, raspy chuckle. "I do like it. It looks very fitting on your neck. As if you belong to me entirely."

Maximilian’s hand began to stroke Elara’s shoulder, slowly pulling the strap of her nightgown down. "Elara, even if I can't move much yet... I want you to do something for me tonight. I want to see your beauty."

Elara froze. "Maximilian, you haven't fully recovered. The doctor said—"

"To hell with the doctor!" Maximilian snapped, his emotions volatile. But a second later, he softened again. "Just... let me look at you. Take off your clothes."

At that exact moment, Elara’s phone rang. Not just a vibration, but a full call. The name flashing on the screen made Elara’s breath stop. She had saved the contact as "Son of a Devil."

"Who’s calling this late?" Maximilian asked, eyeing the phone with suspicion.

"It’s just a bit of office business... Uhm, urgent documents," Elara grabbed the phone with a shaking hand. "I have to take this on the balcony, Maximilian. It’s very important."

"Answer it here. Put it on loudspeaker," Maximilian ordered coldly. His authority as the head of the house had returned.

Elara had no choice. With cold, sweaty palms, she pressed the accept button and turned on the speaker.

"Hello?" Elara’s voice was almost gone.

"Stepmother," Xavier’s voice came through the line, casual yet laced with poison. Elara could imagine him leaning back in his chair, sipping whiskey. "Forgive me for interrupting your 'steamy' night. But I just reviewed the financial reports you compiled this afternoon. There is a fatal error. You need to fix it right now. I know you're still adjusting, but if this isn't corrected, the risks are massive."

Maximilian grunted. "Xavier! This is our wedding night. Can’t it wait until tomorrow?"

"Unfortunately not, Father," Xavier replied, his voice turning icy. "This mistake could cost us millions. You were the one who asked me to teach your beloved stepmother, weren't you? Besides, Father, you need your rest so your nerves don't tense up again. Let Elara come to my study upstairs."

Maximilian stared at Elara with dissatisfaction, but his ego regarding the Vaughn business empire was always larger than his lust. "Fine. Go. Finish it quickly and get back to this bed immediately."

"Yes, Maximilian," Elara stood up, feeling as though she had just escaped an execution, only to walk into a den of a much fiercer beast.

Elara climbed the stairs to Xavier’s second-floor study with heavy steps. When she opened the door, the room was dark, lit only by a dim desk lamp. The scent of cigar smoke and alcohol filled the air.

Xavier was standing by the window, holding a crystal glass. Once the door clicked shut and locked automatically, he turned around.

"You were about to give him quite a show, Elara," Xavier hissed. He walked toward her, his aura predatory. "Did you really think I’d let him touch your skin?"

"He is my husband, Xavier! You're the one who put me here! So you have to accept it if he demands his rights!" Elara cried out under her breath.

Xavier slammed his glass down and lunged at her, pinning her against the hard wooden door. He grabbed the choker on her neck, yanking it until their faces were inches apart.

"I put you there to torture you, not to share you with another man—not even my own father," Xavier kissed her neck wildly, right above the collar. "Every time he touches you, I feel it here," Xavier pointed to his head. "And it makes me want to burn you both alive. Your marriage is a punishment. Whether it's you or my father, the two of you will never be together, legal or not."

Xavier suddenly hoisted Elara up and sat her on the cold desk. Her silk gown hiked up, exposing her thighs.

"Xavier, don't... Maximilian is waiting downstairs," Elara pleaded, but her body trembled violently as Xavier’s hand began to explore the inside of her thigh.

"Let him wait. Let him dream about legs that can walk and a manhood that can rise again, while his wife is in here moaning my name," Xavier stared into her eyes with pure obsession. "Tell me, Elara. Who is your true owner? That paralyzed old man, or me?"

Xavier didn't wait for an answer. He silenced her lips with a kiss that was rough and demanding—a kiss fueled by revenge, hunger, and a love that had rotted into a dark obsession.

"Xavier... Ouch, don't..." Elara gasped as his touch moved further without breaking the kiss.

Xavier smirked, breaking the kiss for a moment but staying dangerously close. Their breath mingled in the narrow space between them.

"Don't what? 'Don't stop,' you mean?" he asked, before pulling her back into another deep, bruising kiss.

To be continued...