The morning light spilled into the grand dining room, casting a judgmental glare on Cathleen as the guests streamed in. Eyes darted her way, and whispers hung in the air unspoken. The tousled hair, the flush on her cheeks, the slight disarray of her silk robe—all silent testimonies to the stormy scene that just happened a few moments ago before Xavier opened that door.

Cathleen's gaze flickered toward the bathroom door, longing for a minute to collect herself and wash away the evidence. But Xavier was there; his presence was a wall she could not bypass. His hand, firm on her lower back, made a claim that spoke volumes. Cathleen...