As Becca set the table and removed her apron, Xavier pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her in a warm, lingering embrace.
"Didn't you miss me, love?" he teased.
Becca blushed, her cheeks tinged pink. "I guess you did," she said quietly, slipping out of his embrace. "Let's eat now, I don't want the food getting cold," she added with a cough, trying to hide her fluster.
Xavier's eyes lingered on her, amused by her awkward charm. Love? The word echoed in Becca's head like a mocking bell. Had she heard him right? Wasn't she just his pet? The same man who claimed love was an illusion—did he think she'd forgotten those cold declarations he made with Raymond?
He chuckled softly at her expression and settled into his seat while she served the food—rice and chicken stew, flavored with Filipino fish sauce and fresh veggies.
"I hope you like smoothie and sausage rolls for dessert," Becca said, glancing at him. "We ran out of fruits while you were away. I had a little fever… so I basically ate up the whole stash."
Xavier raised a brow and leaned back with a smug grin. "Slight fever, huh? Sounds like you were sick in love with me."
Becca choked, nearly dropping a spoon. Here he goes again… Sweet words from a man she had every reason to hate. But still, her heart thudded against her ribs like it didn't get the memo.
She kept reminding herself—she wasn't supposed to love her master. She was just a slave. His to use. To command. To tame.
And yet… aside from the rough sessions in the dark room, Xavier had been nothing but kind. He spoiled her, pampered her. If only he were cruel all the time—it would be easier to hate him.
After dinner, Xavier stood and thanked her, his smile softer than usual. "Leave the dishes. Mia will handle them," he said. Then extended his hand. "Come with me."
Becca hesitated. She'd seen that lust-filled gaze during dinner. She knew what was coming.
Her legs trembled as they entered the elevator. The moment the doors opened again, Xavier led her down the hallway to a door that scanned his pupils.
"Welcome," said an android voice as the door clicked open.
Becca's heart sank.
Inside, the room looked like a scene from Fifty Shades of Grey—whips, cuffs, toys. Her skin crawled with anticipation and fear.
"Welcome back to my dark room," Xavier said. He turned toward her and noticed her tremble.
"Hey… don't misjudge this stuff," he said gently. "They're for pleasure, not pain. I know I never explained that before… and you probably don't remember the other times. But I want you to understand that now."
He took her hands in his, squeezed them, then kissed them—softly, reverently. Electricity sparked through her veins.
"O-okay," she whispered, overwhelmed.
Xavier picked her up and placed her on the black leather bed. His lips pressed against hers slowly, as though he were savoring the taste of her. She didn't resist—she couldn't. He wasn't forcing her this time. He was taking his time. Unraveling her.
His hands roamed her body, and soon, her clothes disappeared like mist. Her skin tingled under his touch. She gasped as he explored her, tasting and teasing. Her body betrayed her, arching under his mouth, aching for more.
He whispered against her ear, "You're so wet for me, baby…"
Before she could respond, he had her bound—not cruelly, but carefully—her wrists and ankles linked to the corners of the bed with padded cuffs. His eyes never left hers as he undressed.
"I want you," he said, voice low and rough. "Not just your body. You."
Then he entered her, slowly, filling her with every inch of him. Becca moaned, the sensation stretching from pleasure to pain and back again. He kissed her, touched her like he needed to memorize every inch. His thrusts grew deeper, harder, more frantic, and yet his lips never stopped their worship.
Becca cried out as her body convulsed, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave. Xavier followed, groaning her name as he spilled inside her, his head buried in her neck.
But he didn't move. He stayed inside her, lips tracing soft kisses across her collarbone. He held her. Not as a master to a slave—but as a man holding someone he didn't want to let go.
As the cuffs came undone, Xavier pulled her into his arms under the covers.
"I missed you," he whispered against her hair.
Becca blinked. "You did?"
He nodded. "And I don't know why it feels like this with you. I've never…" His voice trailed off.
"You never thought you'd care," she finished for him.
A pause.
"I want to be better," he admitted.
Becca rested her head on his chest, fingers drawing circles against his skin. "I see it," she whispered. "Even if I don't understand it yet."
Their hearts beat in sync. For the first time in what felt like forever, Becca wasn't afraid. Maybe it was foolish. Maybe it was temporary. But for now, tangled in shadows and tender truths, it felt real.