ALLURA'S POV
Xavier shocked me in every possible way this evening. It was like I was getting to know a new, dangerous man right before my eyes. When we got home, he didn't say much other than asking me to shower immediately.
I walked into my room, shedding my clothes, and stepped into the bathroom, turning on the water. The warm spray poured over my skin. I couldn't figure out how long I stood there, trying to wrap my mind around everything: the constant threat from the Valkovs, my parents' death, and my missing sister. There was no way I was laying all this on Xavier. He had his own battles—Lucas, the shipment, and his ugly-looking grandfather.
I turned off the water, stepped out, and wrapped myself in a white robe. I changed into a white silk singlet and short nightwear, braided my hair at the vanity, and added a touch of cherry and almond perfume.
Downstairs, the dining table was already laid out, laden with dishes of all kinds.
Xavier was still in his pristine white shirt, sleeves rolled up, his tie hanging loosely, and the top three buttons undone, revealing a sliver of chest muscle. He wore white suit pants. The scent of the food wafted through the air, making my mouth water with anticipation. I headed quickly toward the table.
He smiled, a faint curve of the lips that didn't quite reach his eyes, and pulled out a chair. "It smells amazing," I said, sliding into the seat.
"Taste it," he prompted.
I immediately sliced a piece of steak. It was juicy and tender, unlike anything served in a five-star hotel—rich with the unique flavor of garlic, ginger, and natural spices. I ate, then tried the omelette rice and mango juice. His food always made me smile.
"Seriously, this is incredible, Xavier. Thank you."
He merely smirked. "I'm glad to help. I don't want you frowning or crying over Magnus."
I scoffed. The name Magnus felt far from important. "Don't worry. Magnus is not on the list of my worries," I retorted. "I wasn't crying about him. It's just… remembering how I was used for three years. That's what makes me want to cry."
His hand shot out, holding my jaw with a firm grip. His ocean-green eyes stared right into my grey ones with laser focus, as if searching my soul.
"Listen to me, Allura," he commanded, his voice low and intense. "I don't care about Magnus or whatever happened. But if you must cry, it should be for me. And if you must smile, it must be only for me, and no one else."
The possessiveness in his words cut deep and tainted the air, a thrilling and dangerous energy.
No doubt, despite the contract, I loved when he got possessive and protective. It made me feel reassured and safe, a feeling I hadn't experienced since my father passed.
Tears streamed down my cheeks. A mix of emotions—surprise, concern, perhaps a flicker of tenderness—plastered itself on Xavier's face. He didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned in, his tongue sweeping the salty tracks from my skin. He licked my tears away, then kissed both my eyes.
I gasped, pulling back from the contact. "Xavier! That's… disgusting. You didn't have to do that." My heart was beating like a wild drum in my chest.
He didn't respond. He simply turned and walked away in the direction of his room, leaving me in stunned awe.
I felt my chest tighten. Had I made him upset? Did I reject him? Guilt washed over me, a feeling of being lost at his sudden departure. I touched my eyes, and every time, my heart skipped a beat.
A few minutes later, I finished my dinner and quickly made a black coffee with no sugar, just how I knew he liked it. I really wanted to talk to him and, at the very least, see his face before bed.
When I reached the wing where his room was, the door was slightly ajar. Maybe he'd forgotten to lock it. I peeked through the opening.
He stood with water glistening on his pale skin. His intricate Azure dragon tattoo seemed to stare right back at me. His long black hair was wet, cascading over his shoulder, and he was in nothing but a short black boxer.
He turned. His sculpted abs were on full display, along with a tapestry of scars: a stab wound, several gunshot wounds, and a lion tattoo on his right breast and two names Samantha and Catalina written close to it.
He walked toward the door. Panic seized my heart—it was trying to climb up my throat. He opened the door wide, and my eyes widened in response as the coffee cup slipped from my fingers, spilling hot liquid and shattering everywhere.
He stepped over the shards without a wince, scooping me up in his arms and carrying me inside. He tossed me gently onto the bed, and I scrambled to sit upright.
"How long were you planning on standing outside, Allura?" he demanded, his voice a low growl. "Staring at me like a pervert?"
I couldn't answer. I'd never considered looking at a handsome man's body—especially my husband's—as a perverse act.
"Answer me. When were you planning on answering my questions?"
I only faced down. He grabbed my jaw, his touch possessive but not rough or painfully sadistic. "I've told you on several occasions," he said, forcing me to meet his gaze, "never to look away from me. Never to be afraid."
I finally retorted, looking him straight in the eyes. "I'm not afraid of you. But you looked angry when you walked away. I wanted to see you."
He laughed, a flash of his immaculate white teeth gleaming in the light. "I wasn't angry, mia cara. I just needed a moment away from you, or I might have done something I wouldn't be able to forget."
Seizing the opportunity, I asked, "Like what?"
He didn't say anything, just turned to face his vanity mirror. I pestered him, kicking my legs like a frustrated child on his bed.
"Leave, Allura," he finally said, his reflection meeting my gaze in the glass.
"No! I want to hear what it was," I insisted. "I'm not going anywhere."
For a moment, something raw flashed in his eyes. I walked toward the vanity mirror, standing right behind him. He stared at my reflection, and without warning, he smashed his lips onto mine.
I swore I felt butterflies in my belly. He didn't stop. Our tongues danced, and my head began to spin with dizziness. I couldn't breathe, but I didn't want to pull away. He groaned into the kiss, and I melted into it as his tongue traced my lips, then plunged into my mouth, sucking desperately as if I were water itself.
My knees felt weak. I wrapped my hands around his neck for support. His hands dug into my skin, and I knew a bruise would bloom there by morning, but I loved it.
He pulled back, our eyes meeting. His green orbs had darkened with hunger and desire. He traced a stray strand of hair from my face before locking lips with me again. This time, it was both exciting and punishing.
He lifted me, and instinctively, my legs wrapped around his waist. He pushed me against the wall. I moaned as my back hit the plaster, but I didn't dwell on it, kissing back with equal ferocity. He bit my lower lip, then, like a vampire, he sucked on the small wound.
Finally, he pulled away slightly, whispering something in Italian I didn't understand, except for "Mia Cara."
He kissed the tip of my nose. His hand was already beneath my singlet, massaging both my breasts as if they were his favorite toy, earning a sharp moan from me. He smirked seductively.
"You should see the way you look right now," he whispered in my ear. "Perfetta. Proprio perfetta per me." He continued his assault before pinching my nipple harder than expected, making me throb harder below.
He gently dropped my feet, steadying me. "You should leave. Leave and forget that this ever happened. Right now, let's just stick to the contract and no strings attached except in public."
My face flushed with heat. I spun around, walking out of the room before shutting the door. I raced to my own room, banging the door shut, utterly embarrassed at how my simple request to talk before bed had turned me into a nervous wreck.
Allura, what's wrong with you? Teasing him and asking him like that? I scolded myself, tugging at my braids. What were you expecting? With all the romance novels you've read, couldn't you tell asking him such a question was quite dangerous?
I didn't think much of the burning heat between my legs. With a mix of anger and frustration, I threw my bedsheets over my head before going to sleep.
The Next Day, Gordon Ramsay Restaurant
The atmosphere of the restaurant was luxurious and lively, with excellent staff and a warm reception. I had rented the full building, so no one was allowed inside today except for the person I was waiting for. I sat at a round table, the hotpot stove cooking gently.
I was dressed in a white sundress, white platform heels, a black Gucci sunglasses, a black clutch decorated with stones, and classic golden jewelry. My black hair cascaded over my shoulder as I sipped my tea, awaiting my guest.
The waiter came with his book to take the payment. I handed him my black card, and a soft ding signaled the successful transaction. His eyes widened—perhaps he'd seen the account details and realized who I was—but he wasn't going to talk. I'd paid them all for their silence.
While he walked away, I continued sipping my tea, watching a lady make her way toward me. She wore an orange jumpsuit, a black long-sleeve Spandex top underneath, black Zara platforms, bold round golden earrings, a necklace, a Chanel purse, and a large sun hat that obscured a fraction of her face. A black nose mask covered the rest.
She took a seat opposite me. I set my cup down, a calculated smirk tugging at my lips.
"Welcome, Tasha. I didn't believe you'd make it, given the incident yesterday."
Tasha removed her nose mask, keeping her large sunglasses on. "How could I not make it, Allura?" she replied, her voice smooth and appreciative. "To see my biggest benefactor after the tremendous help you gave me yesterday? I've always wanted to get rid of Magnus, and now you've helped me do it."
I couldn't help but smile—a smile that only plastered itself on my lips and clawed painfully at my heart. "Haven't you heard? Helping a friend in need gives you the perfect sleep."
She applauded softly. "Well said. Now Magnus's reputation is ruined, and I'm painted as a saint. Precisely what I wanted."
"Good," I said, leaning forward slightly. "Now that there's unrest at the company, given Magnus's… incident, the company needs a stable person to handle its finances and activities."
"And who would that be, except for the Vice President, Mr. Young Kim?" she countered, a hint of suspicion in her tone.
"Yes, but it's not impossible to make you the CEO," I stated clearly. "But first, I need you to follow my instructions carefully, as I have laid them out."
She nodded, but her question returned. "Why are you helping me, Allura? We haven't known each other that long."
"Helping my friend is a dream I've always hoped to fulfill," I replied, a picture of false sincerity.
She smiled. We raised our teacups and offered a cheer. She took a sip of her tea. I smiled into my cup, thinking: Tasha, you and Magnus have no idea what's coming for you.