Xavier's patience frayed, the leather of the steering wheel groaning under his tightening grip. Hours ticked by, each minute sharpening his anticipation to a keen edge. The Thompson mansion loomed, indifferent to his vigilance. Finally, the heavy oak door creaked open.
Cathleen emerged, her stride faltering, exhaustion etched in the shadows beneath her eyes. "I'm sorry, Mr. Knight; my client was rather too energetic." Her voice carried a brittle cheer, a veneer over steel.
"Understandable," Xavier responded, his tone smooth as the silk of her blouse. "Men like Thompson-all bluster, no stamina. You might have done the fucking all by yourself." His lips curled into something that could pass for a smile. It didn't reach his eyes.
She parted her lips, perhaps to argue, but he silenced her with a gesture, opening the door of the SUV with deliberate slowness. A wordless command-get in. She complied.
With the engine purring, Xavier guided the vehicle onto the road, the night swallowing them whole. "Mrs. Knight, where would you like to go next?" Formality was laced with mockery.
No answer came.
A glance revealed her head lolling against the window, breaths even deep. His smile turned predatory, and he reached for his phone.
Caleb was still at the Knight's house when his phone rang. Xavier's face popped up on the screen, irritation evident even through the digital blur. "Am I ever going to find a wife when you keep calling?"
"Bring the jet," Xavier commanded, his voice as sharp as a whip crack. Discussion over.
The line went dead.
The SUV growled, a beast in Xavier's command as he raced towards the private ramp. The night air, sharp and cold, clawed at his skin when he stepped out, every line of his body taut with anticipation.
Cathleen, still lost in slumber, unknowingly entrusted her weight to him. He lifted her up, her body a soft contrast to his hardened form. Caleb watched a silent witness to the act that defied the woman's fiery spirit. "May I never fall in love because that is crazy," he muttered, shaking his head at the audacity and sheer madness of it all. He knew there was no way his madam would let his boss carry her. She was fire, and he was ice. The two don't mix.
Inside the jet, the world faded to the hum of engines and the hush of luxury. Xavier laid Cathleen on the bed with calculated care, her breathing steady and undisturbed. His gaze lingered, tracing the contours of her face and the rise and fall of her chest. He reached for her hand, her fingers cooling against his fevered touch.
"You've been a bad girl, Mrs. Knight," he murmured, his voice a low growl. "And bad girls need to be punished." The words hung in the confined space, a promise laced with danger.
He retreated to his seat, feeling the shift in power even as she lay dormant. Then, the piercing ring of a call sliced through the silence.
"Mr. Knight, the procedure worked," the voice on the other end reported, clinical yet carrying the weight of a miracle. "Bella can breathe on her own. She's even started taking formula."
Xavier's facade cracked, a single tear betraying the fortress of his composure. Emotions surged like a tidal wave, crashing against his insides. He had braced for loss, for the shattering of his world, but hope... hope-was a crueler blade. He didn't know what to do, so all he could do was let out a scream. He cried that his baby girl had made it.
"Turn the jet back. I'm going home to my daughter," he choked out, his command raw as he fought the sobs that wracked his body. Curses and prayers tangled on his lips, a litany to a God he wasn't sure he believed in-until now.
Exhaustion marked her every feature. Cathleen was a statue of sleep, oblivious to the world's whispers. Xavier, his jaw set and eyes stormy, lifted her from the jet as easily as if she were made of air, her head resting on his shoulder, her breaths quiet and even. He prowled across the tarmac like a beast with precious cargo and slipped into the night.
The house loomed, dark and silent. He carried Cathleen through shadows that clung like cobwebs up the stairs, and each step created an accusation. In their room, he laid her down, a sacrificial offering to their bed of secrets. Her lashes fluttered, undisturbed dreams beneath.
There was no time to linger. There is no time for remorse. Xavier bolted from the room, his heart a drumbeat in his chest. The car drove the distance to his father's house, each mile consumed with desperate urgency.
He burst through the door, his raw energy propelling him forward. The sight unfolded-a tableau of tenderness in the harsh light of reality. Old Mr. Knight cradled Bella, singing a lullaby that was dancing on his lips, Bella's tiny fingers grasping at the air as if trying to catch the melody.
"Hello, Bella," Xavier said, voice broken, tears carving tracks through the grime of his soul.
"Your faith," the old man whispered, his wise eyes soft as he gave the fragile bundle into Xavier's trembling arms, "really saved my granddaughter's life." The old man replied.
Xavier held Bella, her smallness a weight heavier than the world. His tears fell like rain-bitter, sweet, cleansing-as he kissed her forehead, each drop a silent vow. "Daddy failed you, but Daddy will never fail you again. I will protect you and your mother at all costs, my little sunbeam." Xavier promised his daughter as he sat on the chair and hugged her.
"Thank you for fighting, my little sunshine. Thank you." Xavier says this to his daughter as he continues to kiss her.
"You need to take her home." Old Mr. Knight said this to Xavier, and Xavier nodded.
"I actually came to fetch her so she could meet her mother. My wife has suffered, Father. Cathleen could hardly eat. She was forming into a strong woman, but I knew what she was going through. I don't know how she's going to act when I tell her the whole truth. But this was for the best." Xavier says, and the old man hugs him. "Now go home." The old man commanded.