The morning seamlessly bled into the afternoon, golden sunlight pouring in through the large windows, casting a warm glow over the tangled sheets and the two bodies resting within them. The air still carried the remnants of their passion from the night before, the silence between them comfortable, heavy with contentment. Vivie stirred first, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks as she slowly woke. The first thing her eyes found was Ashton lying beside her, his bare chest rising and falling with each deep breath, his expression softer in sleep than it ever was when awake.

She couldn't resist. A small, adoring smile graced her lips as she shifted closer, pressing a tender kiss to his cheek, her fingers ghosting over his jawline before she quietly slipped out of bed. Her body ached deliciously, a reminder of the night they had shared, of the way he had claimed her again and again until exhaustion had taken over. Pulling on one of his shirts, which dwarfed her frame, she made her way to the bathroom, the cool water refreshing her flushed skin.

When she emerged, Ashton had woken. He sat on the edge of the bed, ruffling his hair before his gaze landed on her. His sharp eyes, still clouded with sleep, darkened slightly at the sight of her in his shirt. He said nothing as he stood, stretching his arms, before making his way to the bathroom. The moment he returned, a towel hung dangerously low around his waist, water droplets clinging to his skin, glistening under the sunlight.

Vivie was frozen where she stood, her mouth slightly parted, eyes locked onto him, mesmerized. He smirked knowingly, stepping closer, watching as she instinctively stepped back until her back hit the vanity. He caged her in, his damp scent filling her senses, making her dizzy. He leaned in, pressing a slow, teasing kiss against the pulse of her neck, his fingers tracing her waist. She shivered, heat pooling in her stomach, but just as she tilted her head to meet his lips, he pulled away with a chuckle.

"I have to go," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "An important meeting. Behave until I get back."

She pouted but nodded, watching as he dressed swiftly and left without another word. The house felt empty without him. Loneliness seeped in as the hours dragged on. With nothing else to do, she wandered down to the kitchen, where the maids were busy with their daily tasks. One particular maid, Clara, had always been kind to her, a warm presence in the cold mansion.

"Miss Vivie," Clara greeted her, a knowing smile on her face. "You look... well-rested."

Vivie's cheeks flushed at the implication, but she ignored it, instead settling down on a stool. "Clara," she said hesitantly. "Can you tell me more about Ashton?"

Clara paused, then let out a soft chuckle. "Ah, my dear, he is not an easy man to understand. But if he lets you stay this close, then you must mean something to him."

Vivie spent the rest of the day by Clara’s side, listening to the older woman speak about Ashton’s childhood, his past, the burdens he carried. The more she learned, the more her heart ached for him. As night fell, worry began to creep into her chest. Ashton still hadn’t returned.

She paced in their room, glancing at her phone every few minutes, her fingers itching to call him. When she finally did, there was no answer. Panic settled in her bones, her mind conjuring up the worst possibilities. She was about to try again when the sound of heavy footsteps in the hallway made her rush out.

Her breath hitched at the sight before her.

Ashton was being supported by two of his men, his shirt drenched in blood, his expression hard, unreadable. Her heart stopped, then started pounding furiously.

"Ashton!" she gasped, rushing toward him, her hands hovering as if afraid to touch him, afraid he would break.

But he barely looked at her. "I'm fine," he muttered, dismissing her concern with a wave of his hand.

"Fine?! You're covered in blood! What happened? Who did this to you?" Her voice wavered, but he didn't answer. Instead, he let the doctor inside their house tend to his wounds while she stood there, feeling helpless, feeling pushed away.

The moment the doctor left, Vivie approached him again, her heart hammering. She reached for his hand, but he pulled away.

Tears stung her eyes. "Ashton, talk to me. Please—"

He exhaled sharply, irritated, before grabbing her wrist and yanking her close. His lips crashed onto hers with a force that stole her breath, an angry, frustrated kiss. His fingers dug into her waist as if grounding himself, pouring everything he couldn't say into that kiss.

She whimpered, hands fisting his shirt, overwhelmed by the intensity. But when he pulled back, she saw the rage, the pain, the exhaustion in his eyes.

Tears spilled down her cheeks as she whispered, "I was scared... so scared to lose you."

For the first time that night, his gaze softened. But he said nothing. Instead, he wiped away her tears with his thumb, pulling her into his arms, holding her there, silent yet unyielding.

And for now, that was enough.