The Billionaire’s Bride: Our Vows Do Not Matter

Cathleen’s fingers hovered over the collection of leather-bound tomes that lined her study, the silence broken by a buzzing phone against the rich mahogany desk. She snatched it up, her eyes narrowing at the caller ID-her father-in-law’s name lit up on the screen. A rush of thoughts flooded her mind: had Xavier told his father that she wasn’t at their matrimonial house? But as she answered the call, his gruff and demanding voice surprised her with a request for a family lunch the following day. Cathleen ended the call with a sharp nod and a heavy sigh, dreading the inevitable awkwardness of the gathering.

“Damn you, Xavier,” she muttered, the very thought of him igniting a wildfire within her. The scent of his skin, the strength of his hands-they haunted her, a ghostly caress that left her reeling. Yet the image of him entwined with another, especially Olivia seeped poison into the fantasy. It was the fear of becoming just another conquest in his gallery of women that kept Cathleen at bay.

With resolve steeling her spine, she bypassed her closet entirely, leaving behind the trappings of her usual meticulous preparations. Her car ate up the miles back to the house she shared with Xavier, a place where shadows of their tempestuous past loomed large. As the gates loomed before her, a tremor shook her frame, not from the chill of the evening but from the uncertainty of what lay beyond.

“Get a grip, Cathleen,” she chastised herself, pushing through the iron-wrought entrance. Her heels clicked a staccato rhythm on the pavement, abruptly silenced as she slipped them off, opting instead for stealth. With each step towards the sitting room, her heart pounded a fierce battle rhythm.

The inky darkness closed in around her, smothering her senses and making her heart race. With a trembling hand, she reached for the familiar light switch and flicked it on, revealing the opulent room before her. In the center of it all sat Xavier, lounging like a panther on his throne of supple leather. His dark eyes glinted with amusement as he held a glass of amber scotch in one hand, his other arm draped lazily over the armrest. A sly smirk spread across his lips, betraying the underlying danger that lurked beneath his composed exterior.

“Hello, Cat,” he drawled, each syllable dripping with insolent familiarity and an underlying challenge.

Cathleen’s throat tightened, her practiced composure wavering under the intensity of his gaze. His presence was a physical force, a maelstrom of desire and danger that threatened to sweep her away.

“Xavier,” she said, her voice a blade sharpened on the whetstone of countless courtroom battles, yet it wavered ever so slightly in his presence.

“Skipping out on me? That’s unlike you.” His tone mocked her, the smirk never leaving his face as he savored her discomfort.

“Family matters,” she retorted, meeting his gaze head-on, refusing to show the storm raging beneath her calm exterior.

“Of course, darling. Family is everything,” he said, the words rolling off his tongue like honey laced with venom.

The air between them crackled, charged with unspoken words and unresolved tensions. Cathleen stood her ground, even as every instinct screamed at her to either flee or surrender to the tumultuous passion that always seemed to ignite between them.

An overwhelming urge took hold of her, urgent and intense. Cathleen’s heart raced as she tried to dart towards the safety of the bathroom, but Xavier’s hand grabbed her wrist with a strong grip, stopping her from escaping. She didn’t even know how he left the couch; he was fast.

“Are you running away from me, little Cat?” His voice was a taunt, a velvet caress that somehow both soothed and burned.

A shiver ran through her body, a feeling that had nothing to do with the natural urges of her body. Cathleen struggled with the quaking in her bones, fighting against the unfamiliar reaction that turned her fear into an unexpected surge of arousal. She was on the brink, balancing between desire and self-control.

“Let go,” she managed through clenched teeth, each word hitched with effort.

Xavier’s eyes narrowed, holding her captive in more ways than one. “Scared to speak? Afraid your voice will give away your secrets?”

She took a step back, her teeth sinking into her lip until the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. The pain helped to keep her grounded, a necessary distraction from the intense emotions that his mere presence stirred within her. She clenched her legs together, trying to control the tumultuous feelings he always seemed to incite in her.

‘What is this?’ Cathleen’s mind raced, her thoughts spinning and searching for the logic that always governed her actions, but she found none at this moment. She looked at him-really looked. Xavier stood before her, a vision of sinewy grace and smoldering intensity. His dark clothing draped over his tall frame like a warlock’s cloak, invoking spells of dark desire. He was intoxicating, a potent elixir that she knew she should refuse, but she couldn’t resist the pull he had on her every fiber. As if under a spell, she was drawn to him with an insatiable craving.

But then there was Olivia, who might be somewhere, lurking in these very halls, marking her territory with invisible lines Cathleen had no right to cross.

“Enough,” she spat out, defiance lacing her tone as she shoved against his chest with a lawyer’s precision, targeting the weak spot in his armor. He staggered back, the surprise flashing across his features more satisfying than it should have been.Têxt belongs to NôvelDrama.Org.

Cathleen didn’t wait for his recovery; she didn’t pause to savor the small victory. She walked past him, her stride purposeful, heading for the guest bathroom on the ground floor. Behind her, she could feel his gaze, heavy and hot, tracking her every movement like a predator fixated on its prey.

Inside the cool, marble-clad room, she leaned against the closed door, her breath coming in ragged gasps. ‘Control,’ she willed herself, summoning the steel that laced her spine in courtrooms and boardrooms alike.

“Get it together, Cat,” she muttered. Her reflection in the mirror was like that of a stranger caught in the midst of a tempest, eyes wild with a passion that refused to be named.

Cathleen’s heels clicked a rapid staccato as she fled the confines of the guest bathroom, her heart slamming against her ribs like a caged bird desperate for escape. Each step carried her further from the tempestuous storm that was Xavier. The air felt cooler here, away from the heat of his presence, and she clung to it like a lifeline. She scanned the living room. Xavier wasn’t there; he was gone.

Her ascent up the stairs was a blur; the opulent hallway was nothing but a streak of color in her peripheral vision as she made for the sanctuary of her room. Her pulse thrummed in her ears, drowning out all else-a frantic drumbeat heralding her retreat.

With a practiced motion, she slammed the door shut, the solid sound echoing through the chamber of her chest. Relief cascaded down her spine as she leaned back, the cool wood of the door a stark contrast to the feverish warmth of her skin.

“Safe,” she whispered, an incantation meant to soothe the disarray of her nerves.

But safety, it seemed, was a capricious lover tonight.

She reached out, her fingers grazing the light switch with trembling resolve. Artificial daylight flooded the space, and there he stood-Xavier, a stark figure of masculine desire etched against the soft backdrop of her bedroom. His nudity was flagrant and unashamed; every line and angle of him was a silent challenge.

“Miss my cock, little Cat?” His voice, laced with dark mirth and something far more dangerous, snaked its way into the very marrow of her bones. As he strokes his dick, looking at her, daring her to run,

Cathleen’s breath hitched, the air turning viscous around her. This was no husband greeting his wife; this was a predator laying claim to his territory. Her body betrayed her, responding to the raw edge in his tone-the implicit promise of pleasure wrapped in barbed wire.