AUTHORS NOTE: HOLLA READERS EVER WONDERED WHAT XAVIER'S POV WOULD SOUND OR FEEL LIKE? BUCKLE UP CAUSE YOU'RE ABOUT TO FIND AND AND IT WOULD PUT YOU ON YOUR TOES
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ALLURA POV
I got home in the evening, bone-tired and utterly drained from having to comfort Tasha. My mood, however, wasn't just low—it plunged into a state of wild, consuming insanity. I began trashing everything in my room with brutal, mind-numbing force.
Outside, the maids panicked, their frantic knocks on the door fading to a silent echo as I destroyed every object I could reach. I didn't stop until I saw the mirror. I punched it so hard that blood bloomed instantly on the spiderweb fracture.
Tasha's voice, laced with bitter venom, echoed in my skull. "I'm so jealous, Allura, so terribly jealous of you." Followed by the horrifying confession: "And I felt happy, truly happy, seeing you lying there, dead, shot multiple times at the mall."
What kind of people had I surrounded myself with over the years with Magnus? My life collapsed the very day I married him, yet everyone else thought we were the perfect couple.
Love was indeed blind and cruel. I thought, slamming the antique vase to the ground, its porcelain shards scattering across the room. I walked right over them, not feeling a shred of pain. It was the expected numbness before the crash. I desperately wanted someone to hug, someone to narrate my days to, but no one was here.
Suddenly, a loud crash—the door ripped from its hinges. I suppose it was loud, but my ears were completely useless at this stage, my hearing blocked by the high-pitched ringing of my own breakdown.
My eyes were weak and threatening to close, but I forced them open. The figure framed in the ruined doorway was unmistakable: Xavier.
What was he doing here? I thought, my mind struggling to form the coherent question. Wasn't he supposed to be at the company by this time?
My knees buckled. My legs gave way. I braced myself for the fall, but before I hit the floor, I felt strong arms lift me into the air. Xavier. He looked more than worried—he was livid, a fury directed entirely at himself.
He whispered urgently into my ear, his voice rough and immediate: "Darling, you're going to be fine. Allura, just keep your eyes open for me, alright?"
I thought I was hearing double. Perhaps the aftermath of my own personal explosion had taken a toll on me, but his presence was too good to be true. I wrapped my hands around his neck, sobbing uncontrollably. A deep, magnetic pull was consuming me. I didn't want to be separated from him. Not now. Not even after this contract ended. It felt selfish, maybe the emotional fallout of the night, but for one desperate moment, I wished Samantha would never wake up.
He held me, shushing me with a soothing voice. "Calm down. Take a deep breath. Tell me."
The dam broke. Emotions getting the better of me, I sobbed against his shoulder. "I'm so angry, Xavier! I feel like killing them! Both Magnus and Tasha, because of the deep hurt and damage they've caused me!"
He cursed under his breath, saying the name "Magnus" like a venomous spit. "He is a dead man walking. I promise you that."
I didn't try to stop him. I wasn't in the mood to defend my deceitful husband.
"They were dating behind my back," I admitted, the words tasting like ash. "While I was dating Magnus. And they had the audacity to keep dating even after we were married." I tightened my grip on him. "I didn't want to believe it at first when you told me he married me for my spot as the heiress, but Tasha confirmed it! She said he always compared her to me because I made the most money."
He rubbed slow, steady circles on my back. "Shh. Don't worry about anything now. Just keep quiet. Let me handle you first."
I sobbed harder. "The pain of losing a friend is much, but the pain of betrayal from the same friend whom you harboured zero grudges towards is far more painful than anything."
He listened, his grip firm. "I know, Allura. I know."
He began walking, shooing the gawking maids as he moved. "Look away," he commanded, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "You are making her uncomfortable." They obliged instantly, none daring to look at the powerful man carrying their bleeding mistress.
"We need a doctor, now," he said to me.
"No! I don't need a doctor, Xavier. Just… just let me bleed out!" I cried.
He growled fiercely in response. "Don't you dare say that. Not to me." He continued walking in the direction of his own room.
Finally, we were in his room. He gently placed me down on the massive bed and immediately went for the first aid kit. He began cleansing the wound.
I observed the space. It had the same sleek, dark aesthetic as his previous room in the main family house, but this one was different. It was massive, like a palace hall, and contained large, life-sized anime figures: Gojo Satoru, Sasuke, and many others I didn't recognize, alongside a Japanese ninja with a real-life katana. He also had a larger telescope, a massive library, a built-in red Ferrari model, and a huge slide. Did this dangerous Mafia boss actually play with all this, or was it just for show?
The room was vast enough to contain a small apartment, complete with its own walk-in closet.
I winced sharply when he cleaned the cut. He looked up, and I saw a tenderness in his eyes I'd never seen before. Then, the unmistakable sight: a tear. Was I seeing things? But no—the powerful Xavier, the Patriarch of a powerful Mafia family, was crying because of a mere woman he had a contract with and could dispose of at any minute.
"It aches," I whispered. "Please, be gentle."
He offered a small, sad smile, then leaned down and gently kissed the sole of my bleeding foot. A shiver went down my spine, not from fear, but astonishment—and something I couldn't yet name.
"Do you like it?" he asked, his voice low.
I managed a weak nod. He did it again, making me moan softly. He stopped instantly, then began tucking me into bed.
He lay down beside me, pulling me under his arm and wrapping his hand around my waist. Someone needed to tell me what was going on. Wrapping his hand around my waist had become Xavier's favourite habit. It was possessive, almost like his personal love language. Without either of us realizing it, we were falling into something dangerously real.
I tucked my hand into his hair, twirling his long black strands. My eyelashes drooped, blocking a significant portion of my view, but I could still see his handsome, captivating face.
He looked at me quizzically. "Stop looking at me like that. And stop touching my hair like that."
"How am I looking at you?" I asked.
He didn't reply directly. Instead, he said, his voice flat, "For safety purposes, let's honor the contract."
The words completely ruined the fragile moment. "You're the first person besides my father who has ever cared for me after the aftermath," I confessed, my voice shaky. "Magnus called me a wild animal. He said I deserved to be locked up in a cage."
I began to sob again. He pulled me closer, shushing me. "You are beautiful, Allura. You are not a wild animal. I don't see what he sees."
I knew this wasn't real, but it made me feel better. I wanted to believe it so badly that it ached.
"I see an intelligent, loyal, and beautiful lady, regardless of anything," he insisted. "That's why I chose to trust you in the first place."
I tried to hold back the tears, but it was impossible. All of a sudden, I felt his lips on mine, kissing me fiercely. It momentarily disabled all rational thought. I gave into the kiss, opening wider and welcoming his tongue. I usually liked dominance in kisses, but this time I gave up, letting him take the lead. I followed his pursuit, grabbing his hair and pulling him down as we devoured each other's lips like we were trying to claim something irreplaceable.
I felt his hand snake up to my breast beneath my clothes, and I instantly melted into the kiss. Just as I was getting lost in the feeling, he pulled away, breathing hard, his chest heaving as well as mine.
He spoke, his voice surprisingly calm. "You will sleep here tonight. Your room is unsafe for you at the moment. I will sleep on the couch."
I nodded, feeling suddenly small and childlike. "Will you sing me a lullaby?"
He didn't plead or question. He simply began to sing. His unexpected action made me wonder just how unpredictable this man was, and why I couldn't just be with someone like him. This moment made me understand Tasha's jealousy better, but unlike her, I couldn't kill for what I couldn't have.
XAVIER'S POV
I watched her face as she finally drifted off, her expression morphing from frantic pain to the clean, innocent look of a sleeping baby. Her small, button nose, which I adored, twitched slightly. I hadn't seen her this broken before.
I'd seen her at her best—fierce, witty, and stunning—and at her worst, even at the end of my gun. We had faced down genuine danger together. But never had she dissolved into such raw, visceral sobs. And the worst part? She wasn't crying because of me. She was weeping over the betrayal of a low-life like Magnus. The thought made my fingers clench, my knuckles white. I wanted to put a bullet right through his skull, but I couldn't interfere with her revenge. Not yet.
I lay there, utterly still, listening to her soft, even breaths.
God, I want to kill him.
I felt a low, constant vibration inside me—a tingling sensation that had started the moment I first kissed her a year ago in that hotel room. Back then, I dismissed it as a temporary itch, an unexpected flicker of attraction. But every time I tasted her lips again, every time I touched her, the sensation intensified. I simply couldn't get enough.
Samantha never had this effect on me. Never. Yet Allura, merely my contractual wife, held so much influence over my pulse, my temper, my every thought. My heart always seemed to beat a drum too fast whenever she stepped out in a new dress, whenever I caught her morning face, or even the small, pouty expression she made while snacking. But her crying face, that vulnerable, shattered look she wore tonight, brought out a beast in me—a protective, possessive need that I couldn't, and wouldn't, let go of.
The shift is undeniable. For months, it's been subtle, but now it's a roaring tidal wave. My feelings for Samantha, once the center of my universe, are fading into a distant, gentle ache. My love for Allura, this sharp, alive, and demanding woman, grows with each passing day. I could lay down my life for her, if the need arose.
I told myself it was because she had a striking resemblance to Samantha, a phantom comfort. But the truth is darker, deeper: I fell for her the very first day I saw her, long before the contract, long before the grief. I fell, and then I found out she was married.
A cold certainty settles in my gut. I have to face the inevitable.
FLASHBACK: A SECRET HOSPITAL ROOM, IN THE MANSION.
I stood by the bedside, looking down at Samantha's still, pale face. She looked peaceful, frozen in time, but the silence around her was deafening.
"Samantha," I whispered, my voice rough. "It's been too long. I don't know how to tell you this, but… I'm slipping."
I ran a hand over my hair, exhaustion weighing me down. "I love a version of you that's awake and kicking. I love Allura. I don't know how much longer this contract, this lie, is going to last."
My voice cracked. "You need to wake up, Samantha. You have to. Or I won't be able to hold on to the past. I'm choosing her. I'm choosing the one who breathes and fights."
I squeezed her cold hand before turning away. It was a warning. A confession to the air.
Flashback Ends
I gently kissed her button nose and checked the bandage on her leg. The cut wasn't deep, thankfully, but the sight of her blood still made me murderous.
I settled back onto the bed beside her, my face close to hers. I watched her until my own eyelids grew heavy, letting the familiar weight of her body pressed against mine be the only assurance I needed. She was safe. She was here. She was mine, even if the world didn't know it yet.
She is so much more than a contract. And I am ruined.