The Billionaire’s Bride: Our Vows Do Not Matter

The rich, savory scent of freshly cooked food wafted through the dimly lit room, filling Xavier’s senses. He carefully placed the tray on the nightstand and took a moment to admire the delicate shadows dancing across the walls, cast by the flickering light of a single candle. The cozy bedroom seemed to embrace them in its warm embrace. As he gazed upon Cathleen, her face serene in sleep, he couldn’t help but feel grateful for this quiet moment together. The soft rise and fall of her chest with each breath was like a lullaby, calming his restless mind.

“Cat,” he called softly, his voice a deep rumble that seemed to vibrate through the stillness. Her body stirred, a small crease forming between her brows, and for a fleeting moment, Xavier’s lips twitched into a semblance of a smile. She was always so composed, every word calculated, but now, in slumber, she seemed almost vulnerable.

He leaned closer, the scent of her hair mingling with the food’s steam. It should have been a moment of peace, yet the grumble from her belly broke the silence, betraying her need. Despite himself, he felt a burst of satisfaction that he’d anticipated her hunger, preparing something she could stomach when Dora’s cooking had failed.

“Cat,” he urged again, louder this time. With a sly grin, he added, “Wake up; the house is on fire.”

Her reaction was instantaneous. Cathleen’s eyes snapped open, her body launching off the bed like a spring released. Xavier crossed his arms over his chest, the ghost of amusement flickering in his cold eyes at her readiness to face danger.Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

“Argh!” she spat fury sparking in her gaze as she took in her surroundings-no flames, no smoke, just him, an immovable force smirking at her distress. “I really do not like it when people wake me up for pranks like this, Mr. Knight,” she growled, her sharp tongue slashing through the tension. “You better sign those divorce papers so we can part ways. You are so annoying.”

Her words were a whip crack in the silence, and Xavier felt a familiar tug in his chest-a blend of irritation and a perverse pleasure in their verbal sparring. She wanted out, but every barbed comment only tightened the knot that bound them, a knot wrought from mutual disdain and undeniable desire.

Xavier’s command sliced through the room’s stillness, as impersonal as the gleam of moonlight on steel. “Well, eat first so I can sign the divorce paper. I see you hate me so much that you want to break free,” he said, his voice empty of warmth, an arctic breeze in the tense air between them.

Cathleen’s hands were steady as she lifted the tray from the nightstand. She began eating, the silence punctuated by the soft clink of cutlery against China. Xavier looked at her, his gaze sharp enough to cut glass.

“When is your next check-up?” His question, as casual as if discussing the weather, held an undercurrent of something more.

“Check up on what?” Her reply was guarded, like a chess player wary of her opponent’s strategy.

“Baby Checkup,” he stated, each syllable a measured step across a minefield.

“Why do you want to know now?” The challenge in her voice was clear, and Xavier’s patience frayed at the edges.

“Forget it,” he snapped, turning away to hide the flicker of frustration that threatened to surface.

The clock ticked on, marking the passage of time in a room that seemed suspended. Cathleen’s meal came to an end, and she glanced at the digital display-2:00 a. m. A pang of guilt twisted within her; he’d cooked for her at this ungodly hour. The realization unsettled her, stirring up something she couldn’t name.

Her gaze returned to Xavier, who seemed carved from shadow and moonlight, an enigma wrapped in the guise of a man. As if pulled by a magnetic force, she leaned toward him, drawn in by the gravity of their complicated history. Eyes closed, she aimed for his lips-a silent apology, a wordless plea.

But Xavier’s eyes opened just as hers fluttered shut, their breaths mingling in the scant space between them. Her heart stumbled over its rhythm; her excuse was ready on her tongue. “You had something on your face,” she lied, her voice a hoarse whisper, betraying her intent.

Yet, before she could retreat into the safety of distance, Xavier’s hand shot out, the strength in his grip undeniable. He yanked her close, his lips claiming her with an intensity that left no room for doubt. It was a slow, searing kiss, with passion interwoven with power. When he finally released her, leaving her breathless and reeling, there was nothing but the echo of their mingled heartbeats in the air.

The tension remained, a tangible presence in the room, as they both faced the chasm that lay between desire and disdain.

“Xavier, I…” Cathleen’s voice wavered with emotion, on the brink of revealing her deepest secrets to Xavier. But he remained stoic and unyielding, a fortress of restraint with an ironclad will. His heart was guarded by thick walls, impenetrable to all but the most persistent of foes. She had fled from him once before, taking with her seven precious months of whispered promises and lullabies meant for their unborn child-seven months that he could never get back. The emptiness left behind by her absence was a constant reminder of what he had lost.

“Sleep,” he commanded, cutting through the tension with a voice that brooked no argument. His gaze flickered over her form, the swell of her belly a reminder of the life they had created-a life he vowed to protect, even from his own smoldering desires.

“I want-” she started again, her voice low, laced with threads of unspoken yearnings.

“You want nothing; sleep!” The words erupted from him, a growl born of frustration and concern. Xavier towered over her, his presence an undeniable force.

Cathleen’s frown etched deeper lines into the air between them, her body awash with need. “Why?” she dared to ask, her challenge hanging heavy in the silence.

“Maybe drive to the baby daddy,” Xavier sneered, his eyes glinting like shards of ice. “I’m sure he will be more than happy to fuck you, right?” The venom in his tone was potent enough to wound, and yet, it was a lie draped in cruelty meant to deflect from the truth he saw mirrored in her eyes.

“What, baby daddy, you are the Fa-” Her words splintered, a near slip that she clamped down on with all the strength her pride could muster.

Xavier already knew and savored even the admission she fought to keep buried. But he played the fool, feigning ignorance. “Sleep,” he repeated, a finality in his tone as he turned away. A smirk touched his lips, invisible to her, knowing full well how effortlessly he could draw out her most primal desires.

In the darkness of the room, the only witness to their twisted dance of longing and loathing, Xavier relished the power he held. For now, he would let her rest and let her believe she had the upper hand. But soon, very soon, he would remind Cathleen exactly who controlled the game they played.