Are you gonna deny it?

CHRISTOPHER

The sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows was offensive. Clothes were a trail of breadcrumbs leading from the door to the oversized mahogany desk and, eventually, to the rumpled expanse of the bed.

I was already leaning against the marble kitchen island, wrapped in one of discarded silk robe.

Xavier emerged from the bedroom a few moments later, looking infuriatingly composed for a man who had been undone only hours ago. He stopped when he saw me, his expression snapping back into that familiar, unreadable mask.

"So," I started, my voice still raspy from the night before. "Let’s get the script out of the way, shall we? Is this the part where you look me in the eye and tell me last night was a momentary lapse in judgment ? "

I set the mug down with a soft clink and leaned forward, my eyes dancing with mockery.

"Are you going to call it a mistake, Xavier? Or are we going with 'stress-induced anomaly' today? I just want to make sure I have the right terminology before you kick me out of your fortress."

Xavier froze, his fingers hovering over the last button of his shirt. He looked at me, his gaze dark and simmering with a heat that hadn't quite cooled yet.

"You think everything is a game, don't you?" he said, his voice dropping an octave as he started walking towards me.

He walked towards the island, stopping just far enough to maintain that invisible wall he loved so much. He didn't reach for the coffee. Instead, he leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest.

"A mistake implies I didn't intend for it to happen, Christopher," he said, his voice smooth. "I’m rarely unintentional."

"It was an itch," he continued . "One we’ve both been remarkably loud about. We scratched it. Now, the noise is gone. I’d say that’s a successful resolution, wouldn't you?"

"Don't overthink it. It was exactly what it needed to be. Nothing more, nothing less."

I felt the spark of irritation flare in my chest. "An itch?" I repeated, my voice dropping into a dangerous purr as I set my mug down. "That’s funny. Because from where I was sitting—or pinned, rather—it felt a lot more like an exorcism."

"An exorcism," Xavier repeated, his voice devoid of any warmth. "Let’s be clear, Christopher. Yesterday afternoon, we signed our names to a merger disguised as a marriage. We stood in that cathedral to satisfy our fathers' legacies, not our own desires."

"Last night was the physical manifestation of that contract. It was a release of tension that has been building since the day our families decided we were the price of their latest acquisition. Calling it anything more than a biological necessity is a fantasy I thought you were too smart to indulge in."

He leaned in, his shadow eclipsing the bright morning sun. "We are partners in a corporation now, not a romance. If you’re looking for a post-coital confession of hidden feelings, you’re in the wrong penthouse. I gave you exactly what the 'honeymoon' required. Don't mistake my stamina for affection."

I felt the gold band on my finger grow cold, a heavy shackle of a reality I had momentarily forgotten in the heat of the library.

"Efficiency is my brand, Christopher," he hissed, his eyes tracking the pulse jumping in my neck. "I suggest you find yours before the photographers show up for the 'happy couple' brunch at noon. Or do you need me to draft a memo on how to fake a smile?"

"A performance review, then? Fine. Let’s talk KPIs," I purred, my voice dropping into a boardroom tone. "If we’re treating last night as a 'biological requirement' for the merger, I have to say, Xavier — your execution was surprisingly thorough for a man just checking off a clause."

I reached out, my fingers hovering just an inch from the top button of his shirt, teasing the fabric but never touching the skin.

"I’d give you high marks for stamina and 'resourcefulness' against that library door. Very hands-on management style. However," I paused, tilting my head as my smile sharpened into something lethal, "your post-game analysis is severely lacking. It’s a bit cliché, don't you think? The 'it meant nothing' speech? It's a tired trope for a man who was literally shaking in my arms three hours ago."

I picked up my coffee again, swirling the dark liquid. "If that was you being 'efficient,' I’d hate to see what happens when you actually put your heart into a project. Or wait—I forgot. That wasn't part of the initial investment, was it?"

I looked him dead in the eye, my mockery masking the sting of the gold band on my finger. "Don't worry about the brunch. I’m a fantastic actor. I’ll tell our fathers the 'consummation' was a roaring success for the shareholders. I might even tell them you cried a little. It adds a nice touch of 'wedded bliss,' don't you think?"

Xavier’s hand suddenly clamped around my wrist, his composure finally fraying at the edges. "Careful, Christopher," he hissed, his eyes flashing with a dangerous, dark heat. "You’re playing with a fire you haven't learned how to put out yet."

"Six months," I said, the words cutting through the tension.

Xavier’s grip tightened, his eyes narrowing. "What?"

"Six months," I repeated,"That’s the window. We play the part, we attend the galas, we let the press photograph us looking like the pinnacle of dynastic stability. By then, the merger will be locked, the stocks will have stabilized, and our parents will have their pound of flesh."

I looked down at his hand on my wrist, then back up into his dark, unreadable eyes. "Then, we file for an irreconcilable difference. Quietly. No scandals, no drama. Just a clean break from this 'itch' you’re so concerned about."

"I assume that fits into your 'efficiency' model, doesn't it? It gives you a clear exit strategy. You get your empire, and I get my life back. We just have to survive one hundred and eighty days of pretending we don't want to kill each other or whatever it was we were doing against that door last night."

"Six months," he echoed, his voice dangerously low. He stepped back, straightening his jacket as if the very idea of a deadline had restored his composure. "Fine. Consider the contract amended. But don't think for a second that makes you any less mine until that clock runs out."