Chapter Twenty-Five
Xia
The Entertainment Hall, Pearl Paradise, CDS’ private beach resort, Madeira Island...
The lobby of Pearl Paradise was all golden light and salt-kissed breezes, where broken hearts felt even more exposed. Xia swirled the dregs of her mojito. The mint leaves clinked against the glass like tiny, desperate bells. One last drink. One last lie.
Cheri rested her elbows on the polished mahogany bar. With sharp eyes, she dissected Xia like the surgeon she was.
“How are you holding up, honey? That chat on the plane looked like Rex was either proposing or serving you divorce papers. Finally, the dance...” She wiggled her fingers and crooned, “Chef’s kiss of emotional whiplash.”
Xia exhaled through her nose in a half-laugh, half-sob.
“To be honest, I’m more confused than ever.
” The mojito was crisp, bright—a drink that promised escape but only delivered a sugar rush and a headache.
“One minute, he’s telling me I’m special, that he sees me.
The next?” She mimed a mic drop as she quoted him succinctly.
“‘The man who finally realizes that will be the luckiest bastard alive.’” Her voice cracked on the last word, and she took a too-big sip to cover it.
Cheri’s expression darkened. She snapped her fingers at the bartender, who flinched like he’d been caught stealing.
“Two double Macallans. Neat. And put it on Master R’s tab.” The barkeep hesitated, and Cheri rolled her eyes. “Go on, sweetheart. He’ll pay. In fact,” she chirped as she pointed at the top shelf. “Make it the most expensive one you’ve got. Might as well drink his guilt away, right?”
Xia snorted, but the sound was hollow. “Why bother? I’m done, Cheri.
Throwing in the towel. A long-distance thing with Rex?
” She shook her head. “What was I thinking? Two months of stolen weekends might have worked, but two years for a man like Rex?” She released a bitter laugh.
“Exactly the reason why I’m not a potential.
Yes, I could walk away from the job, but it is the most fantastic opportunity I’d ever get.
I finally have a company that offers me career growth with a well-defined path. I’d be a fool to give that up.”
“That’s fair, but if you even consider giving it up, I’ll box your ears, and I daresay, so would Rex, which is exactly why you’re not a potential in my POV.
” Cheri swirled her whiskey, watching the amber liquid cling to the glass.
“But the Universe has a funny way of sorting shit out. If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen. Even if it’s two years from now.”
“I doubt it.” Xia’s fingers tightened around her glass. “Like you said, he’s adamant to be married by Christmas.” She refused to dwell on it any longer. She had said her silent goodbyes to him during that dance on the plane. Since then, she had avoided him.
“Then he’s an idiot.”
“No.” Xia’s voice was quiet, final. “I was the idiot. He’s just..
. Rex.” She set her drink down with a sharp click.
“This is my last flight as his wife whisperer. I’m done.
And I’m going to make sure every single one of those six potentials gets a gold-plated invitation to his bed.
One way or another, he’ll find his Mrs. Perfect on this trip. ”
The words tasted like ash. Her chest ached, but she forced a smile that flashed bright but was as brittle as spun sugar. A woman could only take so much.
Cheri studied her for a long moment, then sighed. “So, that’s why you bailed on the treasure hunt?”
Xia’s smile turned razor thin. “I had no interest in watching him feast on every ‘treasure’ he found.”
“Can’t imagine he was thrilled about that.”
“I didn’t give him the chance to be.” Xia shrugged, the movement was casual but too practiced to be believed. “I vanished. Poof. Like a bad magic trick.”
Cheri barked out a laugh. “Clever girl.” Her voice softened. “You okay?”
Xia looked out at the ocean, where the waves rolled in like an endless, indifferent tide. “Not so much,” she said. “But I will be.”
Xia
Rex’s private beach villa, Pearl Paradise...
The path to Rex’s house stretched before her like a serpent’s spine of crushed stone and flickering light.
Xia’s steps were unsteady, not just from the alcohol she’d forced down—no, the real poison was the ache in her chest, the way her ribs seemed to splinter with every breath.
The garden lights blurred into halos around her, mocking her with their false warmth.
Fairy lights for a fairy tale. But she wasn’t the princess in this story.
She was the fool who had believed in the happy ending.
“Well, sure as hell not with him,” she mumbled. She had loved him. “No, not had... I still love him.”
The realization snapped in her gut like a venomous scorpion.
Her fingers curled into fists with her nails biting into her palms, hard enough to draw crescents of pain.
It wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough to drown the hollow ache in her chest, and the way her ribs seemed to cave inward around the absence of him. She loved him, and he—
A shudder wracked her body. She pressed a hand to her sternum, as if she could physically dig out the bond that had formed between them that night in the cage.
The way his soul had twisted into hers, and how their breaths had hitched in time with each other.
She had known—deep in her bones—that he had felt it too.
“Except I fooled myself. He felt jack shit!”
The words tasted like copper on her tongue. She had seen the way he looked at her sometimes—like she was a puzzle he couldn’t quite solve, rather a problem to be managed. But never like she was his. Never like she was enough.
She stumbled as her heel caught on an uneven stone. For a breathless second, she thought she might fall. But no. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her broken. Not like this.
An hour. That’s all it took that night. An hour of him cuddling her close before severing the last fragile thread of hope. She had known it for weeks—that it was a trick of desperation and her own pathetic need to believe that someone like him could want someone like her.
And tonight, he was going to prove her right.
Just thinking of him bringing another woman here to the beach house, of the way his hands would move over her body and the way his voice would roughen with pleasure—was a blade twisting in her gut.
But maybe that was what she needed. Maybe the sight of him with another woman would finally burn away the last of her foolish hope and sever the bond from her soul.
She swallowed hard, forcing the tears back. She refused to cry. Not for him. Not ever again.
“So, I’m going to stay awake and watch him fuck another woman. That way I might just be able to finally send him to hell... and walk away.”
The soft vow chased after her in the night air. The path seemed to stretch endlessly, and the fairy lights blurred into streaks of gold as her vision swam. She quickened her pace, desperate to reach the beach house before the pressure of her own thoughts crushed her.
Xia froze as she felt it—an invisible shift in the air.
Her breath hitched, and her fingers curled into the fabric of her dress.
The back of her neck prickled with the same icy dread she had felt that night after barhopping with Cheri.
That night, she thought someone had been watching her. Following her.
No. Not again.
She turned slowly. Her pulse beat a staccato drumbeat in her throat. The path behind her was empty—just shadows and swaying palms. The distant crash of waves was the only sound. But the silence was wrong. Too heavy. Too aware.
Her skin crawled.
“You’re imagining things,” she reprimanded herself softly.
But she wasn’t.
A twig snapped.
Xia’s breath left her in a rush. She spun and looked around with her heart hammering against her ribs, but there was nothing. No one. Just the whisper of the wind through the trees and the distant hum of the ocean.
Run. Fucking RUN!
The words clawed their way up her throat. She didn’t hesitate. She bolted, her sneakers skidding on the loose gravel as she broke into a sprint. The beach villa loomed ahead, the porch light was a beacon in the dark. Almost there. Almost—
Footsteps.
Right behind her.
Her lungs burned and her legs screamed, but she didn’t dare look back. She didn’t dare slow down. The railing of the porch was within reach—
A hand clamped over her mouth. White-hot, blinding pain exploded at the base of her skull. The world tilted and her knees buckled when darkness swallowed her whole.
The last thing she heard before oblivion took her was the low, amused chuckle of a man who had been waiting for this moment for a very, very long time.
Please note: Triggers from here until the end of this chapter. Violence, forced climax, forced fisting, cruelty.
Dominic Drake
Rex’s private beach villa, Pearl Paradise...
The air in the house was thick with the scent of salt, sweat, and the rot of old wounds—Dominic’s wounds. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. His gaze was fixed on the woman bound to the Saint Andrew’s cross. Xia. The little brunette angel. Rex’s latest pet, soon to be his whore.
Beneath the salt and sweat, beneath the sting of fresh humiliation, festered the slow, gnawing hunger of a man who craved vengeance.
His lips curled.
She was still unconscious with her head lolling forward as her breath coming in shallow gasps. For a moment, he wondered if he’d hit her too hard. Not out of concern—no, never that—but out of annoyance. A dead woman was useless. A broken one, though? A broken one was art.
He checked his watch. Rex would be back from the treasure hunt soon. Thirty minutes, give or take. Plenty of time to play.
Dominic pushed off the wall and stalked toward her. He reached out and gripped her chin, tilting her face up. Her skin was warm with her pulse fluttering beneath his fingers.
“Ah, the little slut is alive. Good.”