8. Duties

[Xavier's POV]

Her body writhed under my mouth, every sound she made burning me alive. She was so close—too close. I could feel it in the way her thighs trembled, in the way her fingers tugged my hair like I was her lifeline.

And then I stopped.

Her gasp was sharp, her pout instant. “Why…?” Her voice cracked, half-cry, half-demand.

I kissed the inside of her thigh instead, rolling my sleeves down with a curse under my breath. “Because you’re drunk, Laila. And tomorrow, you’ll hate both of us if I don’t stop tonight.”

Before she could argue, I scooped her up into my arms bridal-style. Her head fell against my chest, her body already heavy with exhaustion. She mumbled my name, soft, needy, and it carved straight through my chest.

“Sleep,” I whispered, carrying her through the halls.

The maid hurried to open her door. I gave her a single look. “Change her into something comfortable. Make sure she rests.”

The girl nodded quickly, and I laid Laila gently on her bed before leaving. My fists clenched as I walked away, the drug still clawing at me, my body screaming for release. But my wife would never be just a mistake blurred by whiskey and poison. Not with me.

---

The Next Morning [Laila’s POV]

The first thing I felt was pain—sharp, pounding in my skull. I groaned and forced myself upright. My mouth was dry, my head spinning, and on the side table sat a glass of water with a small white pill beside it.

A note in bold handwriting read: Drink me.

I frowned. Did Alice put this here? Or Xavier?

I swallowed the pill, trying to ignore how strange it felt to follow an order written on paper, then dragged myself into the bathroom.

And that’s when I screamed.

Hickeys. Everywhere. My neck, my collarbone, my chest—dark bruises blooming like proof of a night I couldn’t remember.

“Holy shit—what happened?” I pressed my fingers over the marks, panic flooding me.

My feet carried me before my brain could catch up, storming down the corridor, straight to Xavier’s study.

His secretary rose at once, flustered. “Madam, Sir is in a meeting right now. An online conference. Perhaps you should wa—”

I cut him off with a sharp look. “Did you just ask me to wait? His wife?” My tone cracked like a whip. “Step aside.”

The poor man paled and stumbled back.

I didn’t knock. I slammed the door open and strode inside. Xavier sat at his desk, eyes fixed on a screen, voice low and commanding as he spoke to someone on the call.

“Xavier!” I screamed, my voice cracking. He looked up, eyes flashing at my interruption.

I didn’t care. “What the fuck happened last night?”

My voice cracked through the study like thunder. Xavier’s head turned slowly from the glowing laptop screen, his expression carved in stone. “What are you talking about?”

I laughed—a sharp, broken sound—and yanked at the belt of my robe. The silk slid off my shoulders, pooling around my elbows. His eyes flickered, just for a second, when I bared my neck and chest, covered in deep purple marks.

“All of these.” My voice shook as I pointed at the bruises, at the evidence carved into my skin. “Who did this to me?”

He rose from his chair, unhurried, each step deliberate. My pulse hammered with every move he made until he stood in front of me, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body.

“Who do you think would dare touch you,” he said lowly, “if not me?” His eyes locked onto mine, unwavering. “Are you forgetting you’re my wife?”

My mouth fell open. “You—you bastard!”

His jaw flexed. A humorless smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, so you’re blaming me now?” His voice dropped, dark and dangerous. “Last night, I told you twice. You were begging me to not stop. Over and over.” He leaned closer, his breath brushing my ear. “Good thing I did. Because if I hadn’t… who knows? You might not even be able to walk right now.”

Heat rushed to my face so fast I thought I’d faint. My entire body burned, not from shame alone, but something I couldn’t name. My knees nearly buckled as his words replayed in my head, twisting, teasing, painting pictures I couldn’t shake.

“You’re lying,” I managed, but my voice was weak, breathless.

His eyes darkened as if he’d heard the crack in me. Then his hand came up, rough but gentle, covering my mouth before I could speak again. My breath caught under his palm, my eyes wide.

“Careful,” he murmured, his thumb grazing my lower lip. “Your face is red, wife. What are you thinking about right now?”

I squeezed my eyes shut, but it didn’t stop the warmth flooding every inch of me. The marks on my skin throbbed like they remembered his touch. My heart slammed against my ribs, and no matter how much I wanted to deny it, my body betrayed me.

Xavier’s hand slid away from my mouth, but he didn’t step back. If anything, he leaned closer, trapping me between his body and the edge of his desk. His voice was steady, but his eyes burned into mine.

“Last night you were pretty upset with me not paying attention to you,” he said. “Let me clear this up for you, Laila. Celeste and I are nothing. Never were. Never will be. She’s the daughter of my mentor, that’s it. You’ll never feel alone in a crowd like you did last night—not while you’re with me. Last night I left you alone, and I am sorry for that. You are my responsibility.”

My breath caught. His words shouldn’t have mattered. They shouldn’t have carved into me the way they did. But they did.

“You don't owe me anything and I don’t care who you’re with,” I snapped, though my voice shook. “After all, this marriage was against both our wills. And after what my sister did to yo—”

“About that…” His tone shifted, low and unreadable, shutting me up instantly. “I want to take you somewhere this evening. Be ready.”

Before I could ask what he meant, he leaned in until his lips brushed the shell of my ear. His whisper sent a shiver down my spine.

“And don’t cover those marks,” he said, his breath hot against my skin. “They look good on you.”

My chest rose and fell too fast, my heart thundering loud enough I was sure he could hear it. I wanted to yell, to shove him away, to remind him I hadn’t asked for any of this. But my body betrayed me—my face flushed, my stomach twisted, and my skin burned everywhere his words touched.

I hated him for it.

And yet, deep down, some traitorous part of me… didn’t.