The Billionaire’s Bride: Our Vows Do Not Matter

The car’s engine hummed low, a soft growl in the stillness of the night. Xavier’s hands gripped the wheel; his eyes lingered in the rearview mirror. There she was-Bella. Wrapped in the quiet cocoon of the back seat, her face is a ghostly echo of Cathleen’s, yet unmistakably his.

“You just had to look like Daddy, huh, Bella?” He murmured, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. The car eased into the driveway, tires crunching gravel beneath.

Xavier killed the engine. He twisted in his seat, the leather creaking under him as he reached for Bella. His fingers were gentle as they unbuckled her from the baby chair, lifting her with a practiced ease that belied his rough exterior.

The house swallowed them whole, its darkness a tangible thing against Xavier’s skin. He moved through it, a shadow among shadows until he reached the sanctum of their bedroom. There lay Cathleen, a pale form beneath the sheets, her chest rising and falling in the rhythm of deep sleep. Xavier watched her for a moment, the rise and fall hypnotic.

“Cat,” he whispered, the sound barely a breath. She hummed in response, a subconscious acknowledgment. Xavier’s gaze held hers for a frozen second before he turned away, a mix of emotions swirling behind his steely facade.

The nursery door opened with a hushed click, revealing a room steeped in moonlight and quiet dreams. Plush toys stood sentinel on shelves, and pastel colors muted the walls. He laid Bella down in her crib, tucking her in with care, ensuring the world wouldn’t touch her here.

He pulled up a chair, the scrape of its legs a harsh whisper. Sitting, he watched Bella’s chest rise and fall-the same tranquil rhythm as her mother’s. A silent vow hung heavy in the air; he would not leave her. Not even for a minute.

But Cathleen… Cathleen needed him too. Reluctance clawed at him as he rose, each step away from Bella causing an ache in his chest. Back in the bedroom, Cathleen’s breathing hadn’t changed. Still asleep. Xavier loomed over her, a dark figure with a heart caught between love and something harder to name.

“Cat,” he whispered again, louder this time. Another hum-softer, more intimate. Xavier’s presence filled the room, as if his very being could command the shadows. He stood there, a man torn between the slumbering forms of the two who owned pieces of his soul-one by blood, the other by a bond far more complex.

He hovered, his breath hot on Cathleen’s skin. “Get up, Cat,” he commanded, a steel edge in his voice that brooked no argument.

She rose up to meet him, her back pressing against the cool headboard. Their gazes locked, battle lines drawn in the scant inches between them. Cathleen’s eyes were wide, vulnerable-an open book he intended to read cover to cover.

“Xavier…” Her protest died as his lips captured hers-an invasion rather than a caress. His tongue thrust forward, claiming territory with a boldness that left her gasping, yielding the taste of her own surrender.

Her fingers found his neck, nails digging into flesh. A primal sound escaped her-a moan mingled with desperation-as Xavier stripped away his shirt, revealing the taut canvas of his skin. The moonlight played over the ridges of his muscles, sculpting every sinew in stark relief.

Cathleen’s hands pushed against him, futile as a whisper against a storm. “I can’t stop now, Cat,” he growled, pinning her with the weight of his need.

“I hate you,” she spat, the words laced with venom and something else-something dangerous.

“I know,” Xavier replied, his voice a low rumble. “But right now, you want me.”

His mouth descended once more, a devouring force, as his hands roamed free. They traced the curve of her breast, bare and responsive to his touch. She wasn’t wearing any bra or panties-their absence was a silent invitation he eagerly accepted.

Cathleen’s dress fell away like a shed skin, leaving her exposed and raw under his gaze. He drank in the sight of her, the way her body beckoned him with its unspoken pleas.

“Xavier, please,” she breathed, caught in the snare of her own arousal.

“Please, what, Cat?” His voice teased, even as his hands demanded an answer from her flesh.

She writhed beneath him, a mix of anger and desire twisting in her gut. The heat of his body was a brand, marking her in ways she couldn’t-and didn’t want to-resist.

“Fuck you,” she hissed, but her body betrayed her words, arching into his touch like a flower to the sun.

“Later,” he promised, a wolfish grin splitting his features. “But first…”

His sentence trailed off, but his intentions were clear as crystal. Tonight, there would be no barriers, no holding back. They were two forces colliding-a tempest of flesh and need.

“Do you want me to stop?” His voice, roughened by desire, clawed at the walls she had built around herself. “Or do you want me as much as I want you?”

A tear-lone and defiant-trailed down Cathleen’s cheek, a silent testament to the chasm that grief had carved into their lives. Yet, beneath the sorrow, embers of longing still smoldered, stoked by his presence, his touch, his scent enveloping her in a cloak of familiarity and yearning.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered, the words barely escaping her lips, yet they shattered the last of her resolve.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Xavier pushed forward, entering her with an intensity that bordered on reverence. A gasp tore from Cathleen’s throat-not of pain, but of the piercing realization of how much she craved this connection, this merging of two broken halves seeking solace in each other’s imperfections.

He moved within her, each thrust measured and deep, his hips rocking side to side in a rhythm as old as time itself. She clutched at him, nails digging into the firmness of his flesh, grounding herself in the undeniable reality of him.

“Xavier…” Her voice was a ragged whisper, blending with the symphony of their bodies moving together.

“Cat,” he murmured back, his breath hot against her ear. The pace built slowly, inexorably, with each movement a dance of controlled passion as he claimed her mouth once more, his tongue dueling with hers.

Cathleen felt the tremors begin deep within-an earthquake of sensation that threatened to rip her apart. She clung to Xavier, her anchor in the tempest, and her safe harbor in the chaos. And then it broke-a scream tore from the depths of her being as she came undone, her body convulsing in waves of pleasure that milked him for all he was worth.

He followed, his own release tearing through him with the force of a tidal wave, their cries mingling in the charged air.

Panting, Xavier collapsed onto her, his kiss tender, a stark contrast to the ferocity of their union. “I love you, Cat.”

She turned her face away, her heart aching with the weight of emotions she couldn’t voice. Love was there, tangled amidst resentment and hurt-a knot too complex to unravel in the aftermath of their daughter’s death.

“Come with me to the shower,” he said, his voice a low rumble that resonated through her.

Wordlessly, she followed, her mind and body still echoing with the remnants of their tempestuous clash. Together, they stepped under the spray, the water cascading over them like a cleansing ritual, washing away the sweat and evidence of their intimacy, but not the scars that remained etched upon their souls.

Steam curled up from their bodies, engulfing the bathroom in a hot mist. Cathleen’s nightgown clung to her like a second skin, damp spots darkening the fabric across her chest. Xavier’s gaze lingered there, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.

“Cat, why is your nightgown wet?” He asked, his voice low and rough.NôvelDrama.Org holds © this.

She pulled the fabric away from her body with a frustrated jerk. “I was pregnant,” she spat out, bitterness lacing her words. “And I was supposed to breastfeed. It’s been like this all the time-you just never noticed.”

“Shit.” The word sliced through the humid air, a sharp contrast to his earlier tenderness. Xavier’s smile was a curve of irony. “It hasn’t been long since we lost Bella.” Cathleen folded her arms defensively, feeling exposed under his scrutiny-a raw nerve laid bare. But then he was moving, reaching for her hand with that same firm grip that could either comfort or control her.

“Come with me,” Xavier commanded, not a request but an expectation, as he pulled her toward a door at the end of the hallway.

“Where are you-” Her question died on her lips as the door swung open, revealing a room bathed in soft light.

“Oh my God, Xav,” Cathleen gasped. The nursery was a vision of pastel dreams, every detail meticulous, every corner filled with love-love that seemed absurdly out of place in their fractured world.

“You made all this? She-she would’ve loved it,” she murmured, her voice catching on the words, on the name they’d given to a daughter who’d slipped through their fingers like silken shadows.

“She loves it,” Xavier corrected, his tone certain, almost defiant.

Confusion clouded her thoughts. Cathleen’s fingers tightened around the teddy bear, the plush toy a poor substitute for the weight she yearned to hold. But Xavier was already striding across the room; the energy around him was electric and dangerous.

“Meet Bella Knight,” he said, his voice a whisper of revelation.

As Cathleen turned, her world tilted-there, in Xavier’s arms, wrapped in delicate blankets, was a living, breathing miracle. The teddy bear that Cathleen was holding hit the floor with a soft thud, forgotten.

“Xavier…” The words were a choke, a plea, an accusation-all the fight draining from her as she stared at the baby, at her husband, at the impossible reality he’d conjured from the ashes of their despair.