The door clicked shut behind the doctor, and silence folded over the room like a thick, judgmental blanket. Xander stood still for a moment, jaw clenched as Erin gave him that maddening "I told you so" look from the bed. He didn't reply. Couldn't. Because, frankly, he didn't know what had come over him. The doctor had said it was just a hangover — nothing serious, nothing life-threatening — and yet he'd called like she was on the verge of collapse. The urgency in his voice, the panic… it had been real.
He ran a hand through his hair, frustration brimming. He ducked into the bathroom under the pretense of needing space, but the truth was simpler — he couldn't bear the way she'd looked at him just now, like she was amused. She had every right to be.
He leaned on the marble counter, staring hard at his reflection. "Why the hell did I react like that?"
This wasn't like him. Not even close. He had always been composed, always in control. Especially around women.
But Erin… Erin was something else.
Last night, when she climbed into his bed — drunk, barely coherent, clinging to him like he was her safety net — he should've gotten up. Should've called someone. Should've done anything except what he did: let her stay.
Her grip hadn't even been that strong. He could've pried her off without effort.
But he hadn't.
Because something about her warmth, the softness of her against him, the way her head nestled under his chin like it belonged there — it disarmed him. It pulled at something raw and buried inside him. Something dangerously close to… yearning.
He'd told himself it was innocent, that he was protecting her — and maybe part of him had believed that. But another part… another part had reveled in it. In her scent. In her nearness. In the way her breath tickled his neck.
He closed his eyes and exhaled shakily, the memory far too vivid. Her messy hair brushing his chest, her bare shoulder exposed under his shirt, her sleepy murmur as she shifted and pressed closer. His body had reacted, traitorously, and he'd had to battle himself to keep it together.
And yet — and yet — he hadn't moved. He'd lain there, stiff with restraint, until at some point… he fell asleep. That was what stunned him the most. He didn't even know how.
Now, alone, he stared into his reflection, lips tightening at the thought.
"The things you do to me," he muttered, almost in disbelief.
He shook his head and splashed cold water on his face. He needed to pull it together. He was the CEO of Volkov Empire. He had a legacy to uphold, a company to run. Not to mention a thousand eyes watching his every move.
And yet here he was, unraveling over a woman who hadn't even been in his life for a full month.
But she wasn't just any woman.
She was Erin.
And that… that terrified him more than he cared to admit.
...
Back in the room, Erin rested against the pillows, the light from the window creeping in gently. Her head throbbed, dull and persistent, but it wasn't just the hangover making her feel off—it was the look in his eyes. The panic in his voice earlier. The way he had rushed to call the doctor like her life depended on it.
Why?
She turned her face toward the empty space where he had stood just minutes ago, his presence still lingering. He hadn't said much—just hovered with worry etched into his every breath. That wasn't the Xander she knew. Or thought she knew.
He looked… scared. She'd seen the fear flicker behind his usually unreadable eyes. Not annoyance, not indifference—but fear. For her.
She bit her lip and shook her head quickly, as if trying to shake the thought loose from her brain.
"No," she whispered. "Don't go there."
Whatever that was—whatever he felt, or didn't feel—it wasn't her business. And it wasn't her mission. She hadn't come here to be doted on or confused by fleeting moments of kindness. She came here for justice. For answers. For the truth.
She reached for the necklace hidden beneath her collar and gripped it tightly, grounding herself in its weight.
This wasn't the time to get distracted.
Once she was back on her feet—once she stepped out of his line of sight—she would send word to the others. Her friends who had lost just as much. Friends with faces etched by the same grief. Families torn apart by the same cause. They were counting on her to see this through.
And she would. No matter what looks Xander gave her. No matter how safe she somehow feel when around him.
It was all just a distraction.
She exhaled, long and steady. When the time came, she'd do what she came here to do.
No second thoughts.