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?"
Xavier strode into the sleek vacation house, his mind a tangle of conflict and desire. The moment the door clicked shut behind him, an involuntary groan escaped his lips as a surge of unexpected arousal pulsed through him. He scowled, fists clenching at Cathleen's clothes, unable to fathom the hold Cathleen had over his body."Damn you, Cathleen," he muttered under his breath, every inch of him rebelling against the fact that she, of all people, could elicit such a carnal response from him.He paced like a caged animal, each step heavy with the weight of betrayal. His father's machinations, Cathleen's cunning—they were chains binding him to a life he never chose. Xavier knew the fire in Cathleen's eyes, her sharp tongue, and her calculating mind. She was not a victim. She was the architect of this twisted reality, where he found himself shackled to her by marriage."I can't even touch my own wife," he spat out to him, his voice laced with venom. "Because every time I want to, it feels
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
The scent of Cathleen's aroused panties hit him again as the water ran down Xavier's body. He shook himself free of the feeling that was about to take over his entire being. The scent of Cathleen's arousal was a trigger—unexpected and powerful—a scent that should have been a side effect but instead was the trigger for a primal reaction in him. It was the height of madness, he thought, and he had no idea why. He couldn't make sense of the sudden rush—the visceral need spurred on by a mere whiff of her presence—but it had completely knocked him out. If Cathleen were ever to find this moment of weakness, her sharp tongue would lash out with words like knives, slicing through his excuses with the same precision she wielded in the courtroom. The water from the shower beat against his skin, hot and punishing, as if it could wash away the guilt that was now mixing with the soap and the sweat. He turned off the tap. The silence was heavy and oppressive. He grabbed a towel and rubbed the dro
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
The silence was oppressive, a thick shroud that seemed to smother Cathleen's calls for help. Thirty excruciating minutes had crawled by since she woke up, and Xavier was nowhere to be found, and the room felt colder with each passing second. Lying there, immobilized by the accident, she cursed her own body's betrayal."Xavier," she hissed under her breath, her tone laced with venom. But the name evaporated into the stillness, unanswered. The pain reminded her she was alone, truly alone—no husband to come to her aid, no confidants to rely upon. Her eyes scanned the sterile room; it was a cage of luxury, each piece of furniture a reminder of the facade her life with Xavier had become.Cathleen's mind raced, calculating her next move with the precision she would have used in a courtroom. It wasn't defeat but frustration that gnawed at her—a predator she couldn't outmaneuver. She needed assistance, yet the woman who'd offered it was as anonymous as a ghost. In a place where names held pow
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
Sunlight streamed into the vast garage, casting long shadows over the gleaming collection of sports cars. Cathleen's fingers tightened around the knob of her walking stick as she edged forward, a calculated motion that bore the weight of her newfound independence. The hunger for fresh air and the bustle of the city beyond these walls gnawed at her insides. She hadn't savored the aroma of a restaurant or the murmur of a crowd in what felt like an eternity.Xavier's fleet sparkled under the fluorescent lights, each car a testament to his cold precision and love for speed—a stark contrast to the slow, deliberate pace Cathleen now embraced. Her gaze drifted toward the corner, where dust and neglect cloaked the sharp lines of a G-wagon. It stood like a relic, untouched and unappreciated.She let out a deep sigh. Xavier's hiding spots were like a maze that she had no energy to navigate at the moment. His secrets, always just beyond her grasp, taunted her with their quiet teasing.Turning pr