Trapping His Cat

Xavier paced the length of his dim-lit study, each step a silent drumbeat echoing the tumult in his mind. Two full months had passed since that night with Cathleen—his wife, his supposed perfect sub—and now there was nothing but silence. Ridiculous. His fingers ached for his phone again, to try her number just once more, but he knew it was futile. She wasn't picking up; she was gone.

"Fuck!" The word erupted from him as he spun on his heel, whiskey sloshing against the sides of its glass prison. He slammed the drink down onto the rich mahogany on the table and fixed his gaze on the framed photo. Their wedding day. A mockery.

He sneered at the image, at the smiling faces that seemed to mock him from across the chasm of these past weeks. "Why the fuck did I fall for her after just one night of fucking? One fucking night, and I was a fucking goner!" Xavier's voice was a growl, self-loathing threading through the question like poison.

His hand closed around the glass again, the liquid fir