Taking Care of Cathleen

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