By the time the car rolled to a stop in front of the mansion, the quiet hum of the night had settled deep into the air. The party lights, the noise, the questioning eyes—it all felt like a different world now. A dream he hadn't fully woken from.
Erin was asleep.
Her head had slumped against his shoulder somewhere along the drive, and he hadn't had the heart to shift away. Now, as the car idled at the gates of his home, he glanced down at her sleeping face. Her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks, her breathing steady. Her fingers had gone limp against her lap.
She looked… real. Too real. Like a person stripped of all pretense.
He didn't wake her.
Instead, he stepped out of the car and walked around to her side. With practiced care, he opened the door and slipped one arm under her knees and the other behind her back. She barely stirred when he lifted her. Just a faint sound—a soft sigh—escaped her lips. He held her close, shutting the door with his heel, and moved into the mansion without a word.
It was nearly pitch dark inside. The staff had already retired, and the silence felt deeper than usual.
He carried her all the way up the stairs, past the corridor she now called hers, and nudged open the bedroom door with his shoulder. Then he laid her gently on the bed, her body instinctively curling toward the warmth of the covers as he pulled them up.
Xander stood there for a while, eyes lingering on her. She hadn't let go in the car. And for once, neither had he.
His thoughts began unraveling the moment he was alone with them.
They were talking their relationship.
He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck.
His mother. His father. The Thornwells. The masked heir. The whole damn gala.
Everyone had been looking at them like some unspoken engagement had already been announced. As if choosing Erin as his partner tonight was some sort of declaration. It wasn't—not intentionally. But then again, nothing he did around her ever seemed intentional these days. Not the way he looked at her. Not the way he stepped closer when she leaned away. Not the way he wanted people to know she was with him, even if just for the night.
His mother's words still echoed.
"Let him choose love. The empire is strong enough."
Since when? Since when did she believe that? Since when did they ever let him choose?
They had orchestrated every part of his life, every calculated step from the moment he could walk. But tonight, they had played along as if this sudden connection was a natural progression.
And that made it worse.
Because Erin didn't know. She didn't know the kind of manipulation his parents were capable of. She didn't know how many people had fallen for their schemes—how many had lost everything while the Volkov name rose higher. And yet… she was here. In this house. In his life.
And she didn't even flinch when his mother basically gave them permission to be together.
He sat at the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees. The silence clung to his skin.
Cassian's call hadn't been wrong. She was the daughter of the very family his parents had buried. That wasn't just a theory anymore.
So yes—maybe she came for revenge. Maybe this whole thing was a long game, carefully played out.
But tonight, when she leaned into his arms and fell asleep like she belonged there, it didn't feel like manipulation.
It felt like something else. Something dangerous.
He didn't trust it. He didn't trust her. Not fully.
But he also didn't trust the narrative his parents had spun for years. The documents. The empire. The convenient scapegoats that had fallen one after another, just far enough removed from them to maintain their image.
If Erin was here to clear her family's name… then maybe they weren't enemies at all.
Or maybe they were just two people, trapped in legacies they didn't ask for, trying not to drown in them.
He looked at her one last time before standing up. She hadn't moved, but her brow was furrowed in sleep, like her dreams were keeping her awake even when her body had surrendered.
I don't know who you really are, he thought, fingers tightening slightly at his side, but you're not a threat. Not to me.
Not yet.
He turned off the light and closed the door softly behind him.
The hallway outside felt colder than it had before.