As Xavier walked out of the clean white room, the smell of the hospital lingered on his well-tailored suit. He had a rare grin with the corners of his mouth turned up. The harsh hospital lights cast sharp shadows over his chiseled features. "At least she's up," he thought to himself, enjoying the thought of Cathleen's strength. For a while now, his world had become dull and boring because he had so much power over it. "No one dares stand up to me... except for that prostitute wife of mine."He talked to himself in a quiet growl, recognizing that Cathleen had a strong personality. It was a spirit that was like him, a dance of rebellion and power that interested him more than it should have.The sight of his mouth moving in a faint smile made his cold blue eyes flinch. Caleb, who was always on the lookout, saw the strange face."Boss, are you okay?" Caleb couldn't quite get the question out, and there was doubt in every word. Xavier didn't smile very often, and this one was the only one
The untouched plate of food sat on the table, a silent accusation between them. Cathleen's eyes, sharp as the knives she wielded in court, cut towards it and then away. She wouldn't touch anything Xavier had touched—not after his venomous words had burned her trust to ashes."Are you going to starve yourself to death, then?" Xavier's voice, cold and flat, betrayed none of the anxiety that knotted his insides."Better than risking whatever spite you've cooked into that meal," she spat back, her tongue a whip he'd felt many times before, though never like this—never when she was so vulnerable, confined to the confines of her wheelchair.Her eyes fell to her own hands, useless for the moment, and her legs were a betrayal beneath her. The thought of needing help with something as intimate as bathing twisted her stomach with humiliation. In her mind, she saw herself as strong and indomitable, not this... husk. A tear betrayed her, carving a path down her cheek—a silent cry of new-found hel
Xavier rose to his feet, the lines of his body taut with control, as he wheeled Cathleen into their bedroom. As he stripped off his shirt, sharp light filtered through the half-drawn curtains, painting stripes across his bare chest. The swelling of his muscles made Cathleen's breath catch, and her cheeks burned with a flush that belied her composure."Wha-what are you doing?" She stammered, her eyes wide and unguarded.He shot her a look that was as sharp as a cut piece of glass. "What does it look like I'm doing?" His voice was a low growl, rumbling with impatience.On the outside, Xavier had been the picture of a devoted husband and wife. On the inside, he was like a caged lion, with power simmering beneath every move he made. He disappeared into the walk-in closet and emerged in a pair of gray jogging pants and a vest that did little to hide his formidable physique.Cathleen's brow furrowed, and the furrows on her forehead were a sign of her concern. "You do know that we are not al
The clock struck midnight, its chiming a solemn whisper against the stillness of the night. Cathleen's eyelids fluttered open in the dim glow of the moonlight filtering through the gauzy curtains. Xavier's rhythmic breathing was the gentle counterpoint to the stillness—an anchor in the great sea of stillness.She watched him. The rise and fall of his chest were steady and calm. Sleep had softened his features and peeled away the layers of frost that had enveloped Xavier Knight during the day. In his rest, he was a boy once more, untouched by the harsh demands of the world and untainted by the cutthroat nature of his reality. The kind of boy who'd trade anything for the simple pleasures of the candy shop.Cathleen's heart swelled, a feeling similar to that of warmth and belonging wrapped around her. Here, with the sleeping man beside her, she could almost forget the biting edge of his waking hours—the relentless drive that left him cold, the ruthless streak that kept him dominant.But
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
Water droplets cascaded down Xavier's chiseled frame as he stepped out of the steam-filled shower. His hand reached for the absent comfort of a towel, only to grasp at the void. The stark realization dawned on him: the towels lay in a heap in the laundry room, all bearing stains and wrinkles from their use the night before. "Fuck," he spat out, his voice a low growl reverberating against the cool tile.He paused, the stillness of the room prickling his skin. 'Argh, Cathleen is still sleeping, after all.' Xavier's thoughts cut through the silence like a knife. He was accustomed to control, to having everything in its place—his firm under the management of his nephew, his public image shrouded in secrecy. But this, this was an oversight, a ripple in his otherwise placid existence.With a dismissive shrug that shed water from his body, he stepped with purpose out of the bathroom. The air outside was cooler, carrying the lingering scent of jasmine from Cathleen's perfume. It was then that
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
As Xavier looked at the sticky proof of his cum his breath caught, giving him a brief moment of weakness. With a resigned exhale, he slid a cloth across the mess in a way that seemed mechanical. There was no tenderness in the act before it. As he walked back to where he was bathing Cathleen, the silence in their shared bathroom was thick with unspoken words. Her presence was a silent challenge to his detached existence."Time to dress up, cat," he said, his voice flat, as if he were dictating a schedule to an indifferent boardroom rather than addressing his wife.The bathroom tiles were cold and impersonal under Xavier's bare feet as he gathered a towel, its plushness a mockery of comfort in the sterile space. He approached Cathleen with the calculated steps of a man who had mastered control, though the world often mistook it for indifference. She was bound—not by love or desire, but by the cruel twist of fate that left her wheelchair-confined. He scooped her up effortlessly, his arms