Ann woke alone in Xavier's vast bed — silk sheets tangled at her waist, the pillow beside her still warm where his body had been. Morning sunlight poured through the tall windows, but it brought no warmth. Only the echo of last night's whispered threats and promises.
For a moment, she let herself imagine what life would be if she ran. If she packed a single bag, slipped past the guards, disappeared into a city that didn't whisper Xavier Blackwood's name like a warning.
But the thought slipped away as fast as it came. She knew better now — Xavier didn't lose things that belonged to him. And she… she had let herself become one of them.
A soft knock pulled her from the spiraling thoughts. She pulled the robe tight around her body. "Come in."
It wasn't a maid. It was Xavier himself — dark suit, perfect tie, crisp shirt hiding that scar she couldn't stop thinking about. He closed the door behind him, the click louder than it should be.
"You're awake," he said, his eyes tracing her face like he was memorizing every line for the hundredth time.
Ann forced a small smile. "You're dressed for war."
He chuckled, moving closer. "It's only a meeting."
"With men who'd rather see you buried than sitting at their table."
His grin faded, replaced by that dark softness he only ever gave to her. "Then they should learn to be afraid."
He sat on the edge of the bed, one hand finding her knee through the robe. His touch was warm, steady, the opposite of the storm in her chest.
"Come with me today," he said.
Ann's breath caught. "Why?"
His thumb brushed the inside of her knee, coaxing her closer. "Because when they see you beside me, they remember who I protect. And they remember what I'd do if someone tried to take you away."
She flinched. "You mean like a trophy?"
He leaned in, his lips ghosting hers but not claiming — not yet. "No. A warning."
His mouth finally met hers — soft at first, then rougher when she didn't pull away. He kissed her until she forgot her name, only remembered his.
Two hours later, Ann sat beside Xavier in the back of his sleek black car, her dress a deep wine red that matched the bruises he'd left hidden under her collar. Outside, the city blurred past, unaware of the war waged behind tinted glass.
"Do you trust me?" Xavier asked suddenly, his eyes locked on hers instead of the passing streets.
Ann hesitated. A lie would be safer. But she didn't lie to him — not when he asked her like this, voice so soft it almost made her believe he could be gentle forever.
"No," she whispered.
His lips curved into that cruel smile she knew too well. He brought her hand to his mouth, kissing her knuckles one by one. "Good."
At the private club, the meeting was worse than she expected. A long table of men in dark suits, expensive watches, polite smiles dripping with hidden poison. Their eyes flicked to Ann when they thought Xavier wouldn't notice — but Xavier always noticed.
He kept her close. One hand on her thigh under the table, fingers drumming softly against her skin as he spoke about deals worth millions, secrets that would ruin families if they slipped from his mouth.
At one point, a man across from them — older, sly-eyed — lifted his glass and nodded at Ann.
"Mr. Blackwood, your bride is quite the jewel. A shame to hide such beauty."
Ann froze. The entire table fell quiet. Xavier's thumb stopped moving, pressing hard enough to make her flinch. Then he laughed — low, dangerous, echoing off the marble walls.
He stood so suddenly his chair scraped back. The man across from him stiffened as Xavier leaned in close, voice too soft to be safe.
"Look at her again," he said, calm and cold. "And I'll take your eyes as payment."
The man's smirk vanished. No one else dared breathe wrong for the rest of the meeting.
After, in the back of the car again, Ann sat with her hands trembling in her lap. Xavier turned to her, his hand sliding under her hair to cup her neck.
"You're mine," he murmured, his forehead resting against hers. "They'll remember that now."
Ann's lashes fluttered. "And if I want them to forget?"
His laugh was soft — beautiful and broken. "Then I'll remind them louder."
He kissed her hard, swallowing her protests the way he always did — like they tasted sweeter than any promise he could ever make.
Back home, night fell over the city again. Ann lay in Xavier's bed, tracing the scar hidden under his shirt as he drifted half-asleep beside her.
"Where did you really get this?" she whispered. "The truth."
He cracked one eye open, studying her. His voice was raw when he answered. "Price I paid for choosing you."
Ann's chest ached. Her lips brushed the scar, a kiss and a question all at once.
"And what's the price you'll pay to keep me?"
He smiled — soft, dark, and terrifying. "Everything."
Outside, the city kept breathing — but inside Xavier's world, Ann knew her next breath belonged to him alone.