The first light of dawn had barely kissed the horizon before Xavier's consciousness began to claw itself back from sleeping. His eyelids were heavy as he watched the steady rise and fall of Cathleen's chest. Her breathing was deep and steady in the stillness of the morning. With a calculated reluctance, as if he were shedding the weight of his own thoughts, Xavier let go of the bed sheet and swung his legs out onto the fluffy rug.The kitchen was silent, an empty stage waiting for the daily performance to begin. With a practiced movement, he reached for an apron, the fabric feeling rough against his hands—hands that were more used to closing deals than holding culinary tools. Yet here he was, on the verge of navigating the unknown territory of Cathleen's taste buds.Xavier stopped, the silence of the room pushing in around him. He wasn't sure what it was that Cathleen liked. But he did know what kind of woman she was—strong, unyielding, and precise. In much the same way as she was, th

Xavier stepped out of the walk-in closet. Every inch of him looked as if he had been carved out of marble by the hands of ancient craftsmen. His presence was commanding, drawing the very air of the room to him as if he were the rightful owner of it. Cathleen's sharp and discerning gaze remained fixed on him. She could not look away. She took in the tailored lines of his suit that hugged his broad shoulders and the way his dark hair framed a face that could launch a thousand ships or ruin as many lives."Enjoying the view?" Xavier's voice cut through the silence, a smirk on the corner of his lips.Cathleen's heart raced. But her face remained impassive, her lawyer's mask firmly in place. "It's hard not to," she admitted, her tone of voice laced with a challenge.When she had agreed to marry Xavier, it had been Finn's face she had imagined at the altar. A bait and switch of hearts. But Finn's betrayal of Avery—a wound that still festered—had changed the game. Marrying Xavier was her che

Xavier prowled to where Cathleen sat, his shadow merging with the bright afternoon light that spilled through the window. He was stillness incarnate, a sculpture of ice and disdain. A shiver danced down her spine as she sensed him beside her, yet she did not turn to acknowledge his presence. The silence stretched between them, broken only by the sound of his voice, as cold and edged as the winter air outside."One thing about you, Cat," he began, the words slicing through the tension, "is that you are always ready for a fight."The muscles in Cathleen's jaw clenched a testament to her control. She faced forward, eyes fixed on the scene beyond the glass—a world moving while she was bound to stillness."Today, I am not here to fight you," Xavier continued, his tone carrying a sharp note of sarcasm that belied his claim of peace.Cathleen's grip tightened on the armrests of her wheelchair, her knuckles whitening. She hated that he saw her at a disadvantage, but she wouldn't give him the

The chill in the room seemed to seep into Cathleen's bones, yet her skin flared where Xavier's hands lay beneath hers. The accidental touch sparked a current that neither of them could ignore, an electrifying silence stretching out as their eyes locked. She was a fortress of composure; even sitting in her wheelchair, she towered over him with her will.Cathleen's voice cut through the tension, precise and clear. "I'll take your offer."Xavier held her gaze, his own eyes like shards of ice, searching for cracks in her armor. But Cathleen was unbreakable, her resolve etched onto her face, not a flicker of doubt shadowing her determined expression."Alright," he began, a slow drawl that carried the weight of command, "and Cat, I am your husband. Even if we hate each other, I'd prefer you call me first when you need help or are in some sort of trouble other than my dad, as that makes me look like a husband by name."His words were a cold blade pressed against the thin veneer of their rela

The leather of the car seat groaned under Xavier as he shifted, his gaze lingering on the serene face of Cathleen. Her chest rose and fell in a silent rhythm, oblivious to the world's weight she so often carried. The vehicle's engine cut, the sudden quiet marking their arrival. He studied her—a warrior in repose—and felt an unfamiliar warmth spread through his chest.Xavier's hand moved to the door handle, a deliberate betrayal of routine. Caleb, mirror eyes wide in the rearview, watched as the door clicked open, self-sufficiency breaking the unspoken protocol between master and servant."Sir?" Caleb's voice held a question he dared not ask."Let her rest," Xavier replied, his voice low but spurred by the undercurrents of a brewing storm.Graceful despite his size, Xavier slipped from his seat, the night air crisp against his skin. With a protector's gentleness, he cradled Cathleen, lifting her with ease born from necessity rather than affection. Her head nestled against his shoulder,