CHAPTER 16: UNFOLDING

✦ 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓 ✦

I woke up the next morning staring blankly at the ceiling, my pulse still racing from a dream I couldn't quite catch.

Every time I closed my eyes, I was back in the study—feeling the firm, hot weight of Xavier’s hand clamped around my wrist, his thumb pressed right over my pulse point. He’d been fast asleep, breathing heavy and deep, but his body had reached out for me like an absolute reflex.

I sat up and dragged both hands down my face, letting out a rough exhale.

*It was just a reaction,* I told myself as I pulled on a pair of grey sweatpants and a dark tee. *He’s paranoid, he felt someone close to his desk, and he grabbed. That’s all.*

Except my skin was still buzzing where he’d touched me, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't scrub the feeling off.

When I walked down into the kitchen, the morning sun was cutting straight through the blinds.

Xavier was sitting in his usual spot at the head of the dark wood table. He was already wearing a tailored charcoal suit jacket, his dark hair damp from the shower, leaning back with a mug of black coffee in one hand while his other held his tablet. He looked big, broad-shouldered, and entirely too attractive for seven in the morning.

My mom was leaning against the island sipping tea, while Richard’s loud voice echoed down from his upstairs office.

"Morning, sweetie," my mom said with a soft smile. "There's fresh fruit and toast on the counter."

"Morning," I murmured, my voice a little raspy from sleep.

As I pulled out the chair across from Xavier, my eyes betrayed me. I caught myself staring directly at his hands—his broad palms, long veins running down his forearms where his sleeves were pushed up, and those long fingers that had wrapped around my arm like a vise last night.

Xavier didn't look up from his screen, but the second I sat down, he moved.

Without a word, his left hand reached across the table, sliding a full glass of cold orange juice right up to my plate. His knuckles brushed against my bare pinky finger as he pulled back, the brief touch sending a sudden spike of heat straight up my arm.

I frowned at the glass.

*Had he noticed I always drank orange juice in the morning?*

"Drink," he said. His voice was low and deep, rough with morning sleep. "You look exhausted."

My fingers tightened around the cool glass, my throat feeling dry. "I'm fine."

"Sure you are," he murmured, taking a slow sip of his black coffee, his grey eyes dropping down to my lips for a split second before going back to his screen.

He didn't mention the study. He didn't mention my laptop. He just sat there looking completely unbothered, taking care of me like it was the most natural thing in the world, and it drove me out of my mind.

By eleven, I was sitting in a private study room in the campus library with Adrian.

Spreadsheets and financial rubrics were laid out across the large oak table. Adrian was leaning back in his chair, tapping his laptop touchpad while running through our project outline.

"So if we handle the risk margin in section three," Adrian said, looking over at me, "we basically lock in an A on the midterm."

"Yeah," I said quietly, rotating my left wrist and pressing my thumb against the inner skin without realizing it. "That works."

Adrian paused, his eyes dropping down to my hand. "Did you hurt your wrist? You've been rubbing it since we sat down."

I froze, instantly jerking my hand under the wooden edge of the table and pulling my sleeve down over my palm.

"No," I said, clearing my throat and grabbing my pen. "Just stiff from typing."

"Make sure you stretch it," Adrian laughed softly, turning back to his screen. "I need your brain fully functioning for this section."

I forced a laugh and nodded, looking down at my paper. Working with Adrian was clean, easy, and completely normal. But sitting there in the quiet room, a heavy knot tightened in my chest.

I *wanted* to be normal. I wanted to focus on school and enjoy how easy Adrian was to talk to. But my mind was completely hijacked. I kept thinking about the way Xavier looked at me over his coffee cup, the way his jaw set when he was frustrated, and the suffocating heat of his hand on my skin.

"Hey," Adrian added, pulling me out of my head. "Do you want to head to your place to finish up the draft tomorrow afternoon? We can get that private study space your stepdad mentioned."

I held my breath, my fingers locking around my pen.

I knew Adrian was just repeating what Richard had said, but far more clearly, I remembered the dark, dangerous shift in Xavier’s eyes at the dinner table—the way he had put his fork down and walked out the second Adrian's name came out of my mouth.

"Actually," I said, giving him an apologetic look, "my stepbrother works from home a lot and takes heavy client calls. It gets pretty loud. It's way easier if we just stay here."

"Oh, no problem at all," Adrian said easily. "Library works for me."

I let out a slow, quiet breath. I told myself I was just keeping our study space quiet, but I knew what I was doing. I was building a wall between my normal life and the dangerous, possessive energy waiting for me at home.

By four in the afternoon, class was finally over. Leo and I walked down the stone library steps, the cool afternoon breeze blowing through our hair.

"I swear that finance professor speaks another language," Leo grumbled, pulling his jacket tighter. "I took four pages of notes and I still feel stupid."

"You just need to review the charts," I said with a laugh, slinging my bag higher on my shoulder. "It's not that deep."

As we reached the campus gates, Leo suddenly cut himself off, nudging my arm with his elbow. "Look who's playing chauffeur again."

I looked up, and my heart did a strange, sudden flip in my chest.

Parked right by the curb was the sleek black SUV. But Xavier wasn't sitting inside behind the dark glass this time. He was standing outside against the driver's door, leaning casually with his ankles crossed. He was wearing dark dress pants and a white button-down with the top two buttons undone, his dark sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing his forearms.

He stood out like a sore thumb against a sea of college kids—tall, muscular, dangerous, and impossibly sharp.

"He really hates the idea of you taking the bus, huh?" Leo muttered under his breath.

"Apparently," I murmured, my stomach twisting.

As we walked up, Xavier lifted his head. His sharp grey eyes locked onto mine first, holding my gaze with a heavy, unreadable intensity before shifting over to Leo.

"Hey, Xavier," Leo said, giving him a quick nod.

"Leo," Xavier replied. His voice was deep, smooth, and commanding, giving a brief, polite nod back.

"I'm gonna hit the student lot, Julian," Leo said, giving my shoulder a quick squeeze. "Text me those notes later!"

"Will do," I said.

Leo walked off, leaving me standing alone on the sidewalk with Xavier. I took a step closer, stopping right in front of him. Up close, he smelled like expensive cologne, cedarwood, and cold fresh air.

"You're standing outside today," I said, looking up at him.

"Car was hot," he said quietly, his gaze dropping to my mouth for a fraction of a second before meeting my eyes.

Before I could reach for the door, Xavier stepped in. His tall frame hovered over mine as his arm reached past my shoulder, his broad chest brushing lightly against my back as he grabbed the handle and opened the passenger door for me.

The proximity made my skin prickle with goosebumps. It was a simple gesture, but the way he closed the distance felt entirely deliberate—possessive, heavy, and impossible to ignore.

"Get in," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, right by my ear.

"Thanks," I swallowed, stepping quickly into the leather seat.

I told myself he was just being polite.

For some reason... it didn't feel polite.

Xavier shut the door behind me, walked around the front of the car with long, confident strides, and slid into the driver's seat.

The drive back was dead silent, but the air inside the car felt thick enough to cut with a knife.

I leaned my head back against the leather headrest, looking out the window as the campus faded into quiet residential streets. Out of the corner of my eye, I couldn't stop watching him—the sharp angle of his jaw, the muscle ticking in his cheek, and the way his large hands gripped the leather steering wheel, veins standing out against his skin.

He was overwhelming. He filled up the entire space around him, and it made my chest ache in a way I couldn't explain.

"Do you ever actually take a break?" I asked softly, breaking the quiet.

Xavier didn't turn his head, but his thumb traced a slow circle over the steering wheel. "No."

"Why?" I turned my body slightly to face him. "You were up past midnight last night working, and you were fully dressed before seven this morning."

Xavier was quiet for a long beat. He hit the turn signal, taking a slow corner down our tree-lined street.

"If I slow down, Dad finds two more things to pile on me," Xavier said. His tone was flat, but there was a raw, exhausted edge underneath it. "Moving keeps him off my back."

I blinked, completely caught off guard by his honesty.

It was the first time he had ever let his guard down, even just an inch. Sitting there in the quiet car, watching the tension in his shoulders, a strange realization hit me: Xavier wasn't just this dark, controlling force trying to take over my life. He was trapped under the exact same roof, dealing with the exact same suffocating pressure from Richard that I was.

"He does that to everyone, doesn't he?" I murmured, my voice softening.

Xavier glanced sideways at me, his grey eyes softening just a fraction, holding my gaze for one long, breathless second before looking back at the road.

"Yeah," he said, his voice low and quiet. "He does."

By nine that night, the house was dead silent.

I was sitting at my desk with only my desk lamp on, throwing warm light across my open notebooks. I was supposed to be typing up my data analysis, but I hadn't touched the keyboard in twenty minutes.

My eyes kept pulling to the corner of the desk.

There sat my laptop, fully charged, connected to the white cable plugged neatly into the wall outlet—the exact cable Xavier had taken out of my bag and set up for me while I was in the shower.

I leaned back in my chair, staring at the dark window.

It didn't make any sense,It was only a charged laptop.Only a hand grabbing my wrist in his sleep-Only a glass of orange juice pushed across the breakfast table.

None of those things should still be stuck in my head.

Yet somehow... they were.

I let out a quiet laugh and rubbed the back of my neck.

"You're seriously losing it, Julian."

I looked back at my laptop and forced myself to read the report on the screen.

Three paragraphs later, I realized I hadn't understood a single word.

Somewhere down the hallway, a door clicked shut.

My head lifted automatically.

I frowned.

*Why am I listening for him?*

I couldn't answer that.

Instead, I sighed, closed my laptop, and reac

hed for my phone.

Sleep would probably do me more good than pretending I could concentrate…….