Xavier strode into the sleek vacation house, his mind a tangle of conflict and desire. The moment the door clicked shut behind him, an involuntary groan escaped his lips as a surge of unexpected arousal pulsed through him. He scowled, fists clenching at Cathleen's clothes, unable to fathom the hold Cathleen had over his body.
"Damn you, Cathleen," he muttered under his breath, every inch of him rebelling against the fact that she, of all people, could elicit such a carnal response from him.
He paced like a caged animal, each step heavy with the weight of betrayal. His father's machinations, Cathleen's cunning—they were chains binding him to a life he never chose. Xavier knew the fire in Cathleen's eyes, her sharp tongue, and her calculating mind. She was not a victim. She was the archite
