XAVIER'S POV
The moment my hand settled on Samantha's lower back, pulling her away from Magnus, I felt the tremors running through her. Her body was rigid, coiled, a vibration of contained fury. She had held it together, but her moment of near-break had been obvious when she saw that foolish suit—a physical manifestation of her wasted years. I had to intervene then, a necessary measure disguised as temporary possession.
"Walk, Samantha," I murmured against her temple, keeping my voice utterly devoid of emotion, a low, steady command she would instinctively obey.
She moved, propelled by my guidance. We swept past the dwindling crowd, a perfect portrait of an elegant couple leaving a failed engagement, oblivious to the ruins we had left behind.
Magnus, ignoring the stinging slap from Tasha, was yelling, his voice cracking with panic.
"No, Mr. and Mrs. Giovanni, don't go! Wait! This is a scam! It's a frame-up to discredit me! Stay! Xavier, you can't believe this filth!"
I didn't even glance back. He was already irrelevant.
"Listen to that, Allura," I stated, ushering her through the heavy mahogany doors and onto the cold stone steps. "The sound of a man realizing he's just bet his life savings on quicksand."
She finally found her voice, a harsh, brittle whisper. "He deserves worse than quicksand. He deserves to choke on his own pride."
"And he will," I assured her, opening the rear door of the black sedan. I waited until she was settled, her knuckles white as she gripped the leather seat, before getting in beside her.
The driver pulled away smoothly. I didn't lean back; instead, I settled forward, radiating a coiled tension that filled the entire space.
I reached out, my large hand cupping her jaw firmly, forcing her to look at me. My thumb traced the sharp line of her cheekbone. She was shaking slightly beneath my touch, but she held my gaze.
"Look at me, (my darling)mia cara," I commanded, the mafia accent coloring the Italian phrase, reminding her of the realm we operated in. "You are mine, for this purpose. You held yourself together because you had me next to you. Understand this: from this point forward, your calm is tethered to my presence. If I feel you slip, I will take control. Do not test my limits tonight."
My gaze bored into hers, asserting ownership not of her body, but of her composure—the key to our success.
"I understand," she breathed, the word a submission to the necessary darkness.
I released her jaw, but immediately captured her hand, linking our fingers together, a permanent, binding gesture.
"The financial transaction is irreversible," I stated, focusing on the tactical victory. "By sunrise, when he is going to think to he's rich but by sunrise,' he'll find the accounts closed and the company dissolved. He will be professionally disgraced and financially ruined. We own him now."
I squeezed her hand. "Revenge is a blood sport, Allura. Are you satisfied with the first draw?"
Her head turned slowly, her gaze meeting mine in the dark, the sharp, dangerous glint of the avenger burning brightly.
"It's a good start, Xavier," she said, her voice dropping to a low purr. "But the main course is retrieving what he stole from me, and seeing him break."
I smiled, a slow, wolfish expression. "Then let's discuss the retrieval plan. Tonight, we solidify the ties that bind us to this victory."