Xavier prowled to where Cathleen sat, his shadow merging with the bright afternoon light that spilled through the window. He was stillness incarnate, a sculpture of ice and disdain. A shiver danced down her spine as she sensed him beside her, yet she did not turn to acknowledge his presence. The silence stretched between them, broken only by the sound of his voice, as cold and edged as the winter air outside.
"One thing about you, Cat," he began, the words slicing through the tension, "is that you are always ready for a fight."
The muscles in Cathleen's jaw clenched a testament to her control. She faced forward, eyes fixed on the scene beyond the glass-a world moving while she was bound to stillness.
"Today, I am not here to fight you," Xavier continued, his tone carrying a sharp note of sarcasm that belied his claim of peace.
Cathleen's grip tightened on the armrests of her wheelchair, her knuckles whitening. She hated that he saw her at a disadvantage, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her riled.
"I love a good fight," he said, the smirk in his voice painting a vivid picture even without sight. "But not with a woman bound in a wheelchair like you."
The words hung heavy in the room, each syllable laced with mockery and the subtext of a challenge. She knew he expected her to react, to lash out with the same ferocity that had won her every legal battle she'd ever faced. But Cathleen remained silent, conserving her energy and calculating her next move like the seasoned lawyer she was. No matter how personal this confrontation had become, she would not allow herself to be baited so easily.
Cathleen's silence hung between them, a weighty shroud that seemed to absorb the air from the room. Xavier's patience frayed with each passing second, a low simmer of frustration threatening to boil over. He lowered himself, his knees bending in a deliberate crunch, until he was eye level with her, the proximity an unspoken challenge.
"Cat, what happened at that wedding?" His voice, though quiet, reverberated with a lethal calmness that belied the storm beneath. "You didn't do much to hide your shock that day, which shows you were not expecting me." The accusation sliced through the stillness, sharp and precise. "Who were you expecting?"
The intensity of his gaze locked onto hers, like a predatory bird eyeing its prey. Tension coiled around Cathleen, suffocating her as she met his stare head-on. Her mind raced, calculating each possible consequence like the moves on a chessboard. She knew better than to show weakness; her career is a testament to her ironclad control. But here, with Xavier's cold scrutiny dissecting her every reaction, it was a battle to keep her composure.
His presence filled her space, dominant and unyielding. She could almost feel the weight of his many conquests lingering in the air, the silent witnesses to his prowess. Yet in the office, devoid of any admirers or flashing cameras, Xavier Knight was nothing but raw, unabridged power. And despite the chaos he represented, Cathleen couldn't deny the allure of the unknown and the danger that came with playing with fire.
She steadied her breathing, refusing to be intimidated by the man who shunned the limelight yet commanded it without trying. Her voice, when it finally emerged, carried the edge of a well-used blade.
"Xavier, this isn't a courtroom," she said, her words tinged with ice. "You can't cross-examine me into submission."
They held each other's gaze, two forces colliding silently, a dance as old as time-power and defiance etched into the very air they shared.
Xavier's gaze didn't waver; the weight of his scrutiny was palpable in the stillness of the room. Cathleen, sensing the gravity of the moment, exhaled a heavy sigh that seemed to carry her confession with it. "You are right," she admitted, her voice tinged with a mixture of defiance and resignation. "I was to marry Finn that day. Seeing a new face was a surprise, especially a face I have never seen."
The air around them thickened with unspoken thoughts as Xavier rose slowly to his feet, his movements deliberate. He slid his hands into his pockets, anchoring himself in the fabric of his pants, his stare drifting away from Cathleen and fixing onto some distant point only he could see.
"Why did you want to marry, Finn?" His voice cut through the silence, sharp and precise, like the edge of a knife. The question wasn't just a query; it was a challenge, a demand for truth in a sea of deceptions.
Cathleen's eyes narrowed slightly, her lawyer instincts kicking in, measuring her words before they could betray her any more than she intended. "Do you still love him?" Xavier pressed, the man's cold demeanor wrapping around the question like steel around velvet.
The tension hung between them, a tangible force that threatened to shatter at the slightest provocation. Love, loyalty, betrayal-they weaved an intricate tapestry that both of them were entangled in, each thread a reminder of the broken promises and the violence of emotional wounds left raw and exposed.
Cathleen's fingers curled into fists, her knuckles whitening as she glared across the room at Xavier. "No," she said, her voice steely, a reflection of the unyielding resolve that had made her an undefeated force in the courtroom. "It was for revenge."
She wheeled her wheelchair before him, her actions measured and deliberate, feeling the weight of her own statement. Her laughter was bitter, tinged with irony. "I wanted to marry him for revenge. I wanted to make his life miserable." The words hung heavy in the air, laced with venom.
The laugh died on her lips, and she turned, fixing Xavier with a piercing look, her eyes sharp enough to cut through the silence that followed. "But instead, my life is now miserable for marrying you, isn't it?" There was accusation in her tone, a challenge laid bare between them.
Xavier tensed a little, a subtle shift of muscle beneath his tailored shirt, betraying the truth he'd never admitted aloud. He was the architect of her misery, a master craftsman shaping their twisted union with cold, ruthless hands.
"Why did you want revenge?" His question broke through the tension, his voice low and devoid of warmth.
Cathleen's gaze didn't waver; it drilled into him with unwavering precision. "I caught him balls deep inside my sister. By the time he was my fiance," her words were blunt, the raw honesty in them leaving no room for doubt or pretense.
The stillness that settled between them after her confession was fraught with the ghosts of betrayal and the unspoken violence of shattered trust.