The Maybach's engine fell silent, a stark contrast to the pulsing heartbeat in Cathleen's chest. Before her, she sat frozen, her eyes locked onto the towering glass structure that sprawled out in front of them. The house was a vision of extravagance and wealth, its transparent facade gleaming under the sun like a crystal palace. Each pane reflected the light in a dazzling display, creating an illusion of grandeur and mystery. It stood as a symbol of luxury and hidden riches, a fortress of untold stories waiting to be uncovered."Quite a place," Cathleen muttered, her words laced with a lawyer's skepticism, her eyes tracing the lines where modernity met extravagance.Her husband shifted uncomfortably beside her, his silence a heavyweight in the luxurious cabin. He was a simple man, or so he had claimed, born of soil and toil. Yet here they were, staring at a glass castle that should have been beyond the reach of a man who grew up on the farms."Tell me again, how did you afford this?"

Every move Xavier made was precise and calculated, like a well-rehearsed dance. Despite his rugged appearance, he handled the delicate figure in the tub with gentle care, his muscles straining under the weight. As the drops of water dripped down her body, they seemed to sizzle on his skin, stirring up unwanted desires that he tried desperately to push away. He gently wrapped her in a plush towel, his large hands wrapping around her small frame as he did so. With careful steps, he carried her to the bed. His touch was gentle and tender, like that of a man who knew how to break and heal hearts."Rest," he murmured, more to himself than to the unconscious form now sprawled on the sheets. He needed to distance himself to block out the intimacy he had not sought but found himself trapped in. The stinging spray of the shower was a blessing. But it did little to cleanse the thoughts that clung to him like Cathleen's scent. Xavier Knight, the man who had commanded empires, was now grappling

Xavier's consciousness clawed its way back from the depths of sleep, his body's arousal a jarring contrast to the stillness of dawn. It was a primal urge, this morning’s hardness, yet it felt foreign alongside the warm curve of Cathleen's slumbering form. He lay there for a moment, the silence of their bedroom hanging heavy like a verdict.He slipped from the sheets, a shadow moving with silent urgency. The cool air of the room kissed his skin, whispering secrets only solitude could keep. In the bathroom, the sharp scent of antiseptic snapped him further into reality as he relieved himself, the sound of a steady drumbeat against porcelain—a reminder of life's mundanities even amidst inner turmoil.He faced his reflection, the lines of his face carved with years and cold dominance. With bristles rasping against his jaw during the ritualistic dance of toothbrush over teeth, he avoided his own gaze. He couldn't afford the introspection that came with looking too deep.The shower's hiss f

Cathleen traced the condensation on her water glass; the cold droplets were a contrast to the warmth that the first week had promised. A month at Xavier's vacation house—a gleaming fortress of solitude—and the walls between them only thickened. The staff bustled in the kitchen, their efficiency a silent reminder of Xavier's decision to put space where there might have been conversation, companionship, or something more."Your lunch, Mrs. Knight," the chef announced, placing a meticulously arranged salad before her.She offered a tight-lipped smile, her gratitude genuine, if not for the food, then for the presence of another human being. "Thank you."The chair opposite her remained empty, as it had for the past three weeks. Xavier's absence loomed larger than his brooding figure ever could. Cathleen speared a cherry tomato, its skin giving way with a soft pop—like the fragile bubble of hope she had nurtured upon arriving here.Xavier skirted the dining hall's entrance, a shadow passing

Cathleen's fingers traced the rim of her porcelain cup, a delicate dance of apprehension and resolve. Around her, the restaurant hummed with the quiet cadence of morning routines, yet within her chest, a storm brewed more bitter than the dark roast she reluctantly sipped."Did you know?" Her words cut through the murmurs, eyes fixated on the man across from her.Her father, William, met her gaze with a wearied resignation that belied his stoic front. The air thickened between them, laden with the weight of unspoken truths and the sharp tang of betrayal."Did you know I wouldn't be marrying Finn that day, but his uncle?" The question hung in the air, accusatory and demanding. Her voice was steel-wrapped in velvet, as authoritative as any closing argument she'd delivered in the courtroom.William's nod was almost imperceptible, but to Cathleen, it roared like thunder. "Mr. Knight called me before the wedding," he began, his voice steady despite the tremor Cathleen detected—a lawyer's da