Chapter 22: Breakfast and Other Weapons

I lay still for a moment, sinking into a mattress so soft I almost forgot where I was. Then my body reminded me.

Every muscle ached. My thighs were sore, my shoulders felt heavy, and my skin was tender. The events of last night were impossible to ignore.

Xavier had been clear: I wasn’t signing a single thing until he was finished with me. The contract was still sitting on the desk across the room, unsigned. Apparently, he wasn’t finished yet.

The bedroom door opened without a knock. Mrs. Gable walked in with a stack of expensive, new clothes. She didn’t blink when she saw me in bed.

“Good morning, Miss Holloway. Breakfast is ready. I’ve picked something out for you.”

I pulled the sheet higher. “Where’s Xavier?”

“In his office with his lawyer.”

I checked the clock. “Still?”

“He’s been on the call for nearly forty minutes,” she replied.

The corner of my mouth twitched. Mrs. Gable remained composed, but her eyes flicked to the marks on my neck. She knew. Wonderful.

“Mrs. Gable, can we talk for a second?” I asked.

“I’m actually quite busy this morning.”

“Then let me help.” I swung my legs over the bed. “This place is massive. You can’t do everything yourself. Besides, sitting in a man’s bed waiting to be summoned feels pathetic. Let me be useful.”

Mrs. Gable sighed. “The kitchen is on the lower level. You can help with the final touches. But stay away from the stove.”

“Deal.”

***

Twenty minutes later I was downstairs in the borrowed clothes, hair still damp.

The kitchen was all marble and steel. Mrs. Gable moved through it like a general. I preferred it here. Moving gave my mind something to do besides thinking about Xavier, the unsigned contract, and the fact that my life now required a lawyer before breakfast.

I was slicing strawberries when two sets of footsteps approached. One belonged to Xavier. The other carried the heavier weight of a strong Alpha.

The man with him was tall, broad-shouldered, and polished in the way only old money managed. His dark suit was perfect. His eyes landed on me, then dropped briefly to my bare feet and the sweater that still smelled like Xavier.

“Ravenna,” Xavier said, expression unreadable. “This is Atticus Spencer. My lawyer.”

Atticus offered his hand. “Pleasure.”

I wiped my fingers on a towel before shaking it. “Ravenna Holloway. I hope you’re not the reason he looks like he hasn’t slept.”

Atticus smiled faintly. “I suspect someone else deserves that credit.” His gaze flicked to the mark on my neck, then back to my eyes. “I’m beginning to understand why this morning’s meeting was so urgent. The terms he’s pushing are unusually specific.”

That caught my attention.

Before I could press, Xavier’s hand settled firmly at my waist.

“Ravenna already has a full day,” he said. “She’s busy.”

I turned my head and looked up at him.

“Did I?”

The two words landed quietly. Atticus’s eyebrows rose a fraction. He glanced between us, clearly filing the exchange away, and the corner of his mouth twitched with private amusement.

I leaned slightly toward Atticus, just enough to feel Xavier’s fingers tighten once against my side.

“I was actually free this afternoon,” I said. “The clinic is quiet on weekends. I still bartend at The Rusty Anchor.”

Atticus looked mildly interested. “Bartending. Not the usual preference for someone in your current position.”

“I don’t have a usual preference,” I replied. “I negotiate.”

Xavier’s voice cut in, quiet and final.

“You’re not going to the bar today.”

I kept my eyes on Atticus a second longer before turning fully to Xavier. “No?”

“No.” His hand stayed exactly where it was. “You’re getting ready. I’m taking you with me tonight.”

Atticus’s expression shifted—subtle recognition mixed with something closer to caution.

I studied Xavier’s face. The event hadn’t been mentioned once during the night. Which meant he had already decided my evening while I was downstairs slicing fruit.

“Taking me where?”

Xavier held my gaze. “Vargnótt.”

The name settled in the kitchen like a drop in still water.

I felt Ciel go very still inside me.

Atticus looked down at his coffee, suddenly interested in the surface of the liquid.

Xavier continued, voice calm and absolute. “Attendance is expected of me. Under the arrangement, you will be there as well. You will stay where I put you, and you will remember who the contract is with.”

I stared at him. The playful edge I had been riding all morning drained away, replaced by something colder and sharper.

This was no longer just a power game in a private kitchen.

“You decided this before I even woke up,” I said.

“Yes.”

I set the knife down carefully.“Then I suppose,” I said quietly, “we should discuss what happens if I don’t survive the night.”

Xavier’s eyes didn’t leave mine. “You will,” he said. “Because I won’t allow otherwise.”

Atticus cleared his throat softly and reached for his coffee again.

I held Xavier’s stare. “Anything for you, Mr. Beckett.”

His expression didn’t change.

But Ciel whispered inside my head.

Ravenna… why does he sound like he already knows who’s hunting us?