Morning sunlight poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, casting golden stripes across the silk sheets. Elara stirred slowly, the warmth of the duvet cocooning her in a sense of comfort she hadn't felt in weeks.
And then she realized—she wasn't alone.
Xander lay beside her, one arm slung lazily across her waist, his chest rising and falling in even, calm breaths.
They hadn't crossed that line—not yet—but they had crossed something else, something deeper: a boundary of trust. Of choosing to stay.
Elara turned her head slightly, watching his sleeping face. He looked… peaceful. Vulnerable, even. It was a side of him few had probably ever seen. The powerful CEO was still there beneath the surface, but in this moment, he was just Xander. Her husband.
Her enemy.
Her… maybe-something-more.
She let out a quiet breath. "What are you doing to me?" she whispered to the room.
Xander woke to the scent of jasmine—Elara's shampoo—and the gentle rhythm of her fingers drumming softly on the blanket.
"You stayed," he said groggily, blinking away the haze.
"I did," she murmured. "Should I not have?"
He turned on his side, propping his head on one arm. "No. I'm glad you did. I…" He hesitated. "I like waking up with you next to me."
She smiled softly. "That almost sounded romantic."
"Don't let it get to your head."
A light laugh bubbled out of her, and it struck him how easy this moment felt—how unguarded. He wanted more of it.
Later, over a quiet breakfast—no formal dining room, no staff—Xander surprised her again.
"I want to take you somewhere this weekend."
She blinked. "Somewhere… romantic or strategic?"
He smirked. "A little of both."
"Do I get to ask where?"
"No."
She narrowed her eyes. "Is this one of those CEO power-play things?"
"It's a husband-making-an-effort thing," he replied, and for once, there was no sarcasm in his voice.
The rest of the week moved in a blur.
For the first time, Elara began to see glimpses of a man beneath the cold exterior. At the Thorne Corporation events, he stayed closer to her. When Lucinda made one of her veiled jabs at Elara's social standing, Xander cut in with a pointed compliment about his wife's strategic mind. Elara didn't miss the glint of fury in Lucinda's eyes—or the flicker of admiration in several board members'.
In private, he opened up in small, unexpected ways.
A story about his childhood and a treehouse he'd built with Julian before their father tore it down for being "impractical."
A confession that he hated the color of their penthouse walls but had never bothered changing them.
A soft admission that he didn't like sleeping alone.
Every shared truth made the space between them shrink. And it terrified Elara more than she wanted to admit.
Because she was starting to fall for him.
And if this whole thing ever came crashing down, she didn't know if she'd survive the wreckage.
Friday night arrived.
"Pack light," Xander said, handing her a garment bag. "Something formal, something casual. No questions."
"You're bossy."
"I'm efficient."
Elara rolled her eyes but obeyed.
They left the city just past sunset. The car ride was quiet, filled with the low hum of classical music and occasional sideways glances. Xander didn't reveal the destination until the car rolled into the private drive of a coastal villa.
It was stunning.
Perched on a cliff overlooking the sea, the villa was all glass walls and warm wood, with the rhythmic sound of waves crashing below. The scent of salt and pine mingled in the air.
"This place," Elara said, breathless, "is beautiful."
"It used to belong to my mother," Xander said quietly. "Before she passed."
She turned to him, surprised. "You brought me to your mother's villa?"
He met her eyes. "She would've liked you."
Elara's heart did a full somersault.
Dinner was served under the stars—just the two of them, candlelight flickering between wine glasses and the occasional crash of the ocean beneath.
Xander poured her a glass of white wine and raised his glass in a quiet toast. "To second chances."
She clinked hers gently against his. "And to honesty."
They ate slowly, savoring not just the food, but the comfort of each other's company. Somewhere between the lemon-grilled scallops and the chocolate mousse, Elara found herself smiling in a way she hadn't in a long time.
"Tell me something no one else knows about you," she said, tilting her head.
Xander paused. "I keep a sketchbook."
"What?" she laughed. "You sketch?"
"Don't sound so shocked. I'm not terrible."
"I'm sorry," she giggled. "I just… you don't strike me as the 'let-me-draw-a-tree' type."
He chuckled. "I mostly draw buildings. Landscapes. It calms me down."
"That's… unexpectedly adorable."
He rolled his eyes. "Your turn."
She thought for a moment. "I can't swim."
He stared. "Seriously?"
"Yep. I panic the second my feet don't touch the ground."
"Well," he said with a mischievous gleam, "good thing we're at the ocean."
"No, don't even think about it—Xander—"
But it was too late.
He stood, walked around the table, and in one swift motion, lifted her into his arms.
"Elara Thorne, it's time you faced your fear."
"You wouldn't dare!"
"Oh, I would."
The villa's pool was warm, surrounded by glowing lanterns and misty moonlight. Xander stepped right into the shallow end with her in his arms.
Her fingers clutched his shoulders, her heart racing. "I swear, if you drop me…"
"I won't."
"Promise."
"I promise."
Slowly, he let her feet touch the pool floor.
She gasped. "I'm not sinking."
"You're not."
He guided her hands to his shoulders. "Now breathe. Just… trust me."
And she did.
For the first time, she let go. Of fear. Of anger. Of the icy wall she'd built around her heart.
She floated—barely—but enough.
Xander held her steady, his eyes never leaving hers.
"You're incredible," he said quietly.
Elara's breath hitched.
She didn't respond with words. She simply leaned in.
And kissed him.
This time, she initiated.
This time, there was no confusion, no fight for dominance, no resistance.
Just heat.
And something dangerously close to love.