Marking His Cat

The dawn had barely broken when Xavier's voice cut through the stillness of the manor. "Take the day," he instructed the household staff, his tone brooking no argument. They dispersed with quiet nods, leaving the mansion to its master and mistress.

Retreating to his quarters, Xavier stripped away the remnants of the night, the water cascading down his body in rivulets as he showered. Each drop seemed to invigorate him, fueling the anticipation of how the new day would unfold.

Freshened up and dressed in crisp casuals, Xavier descended the grand staircase. The scent of something being prepared wafted from the kitchen, guiding him. There, he found Cathleen, her silhouette accentuated by a dress clinging to her curves beneath an apron. Desire surged within him, unbidden yet undeniable.

"What are you making?" he queried, stepping into the kitchen, his eyes drinking in her form.

Silence answered him; a wall of resentment built from the night before hung between them. Her focus remained on