Amaiyla
I barely remember stepping outside.
The air was sharp, biting through my coat, but Connor was already there — pacing near the edge of the terrace, hands buried deep in his pockets like he was holding himself together by force. Something was wrong. I felt it before he even turned around.
"They opened a file," he said immediately.
No greeting.
No hesitation.
"From overseas. Madrid."
My stomach dropped.
"What file?" I asked, though dread had already wrapped around my ribs.
Connor finally looked at me. His eyes were hollow, exhausted — the kind of look you get when something buried claws its way back to the surface.
"One that was sealed. One that was supposed to stay buried," he said quietly. "They didn't release it. They didn't have to. They let the implication do the work."
I took a step toward him. "Connor—"
"And then," he continued, voice tightening, "I got another notification."
He pulled out his phone, thumb hovering for half a second before handing it to me.
PUBLIC CONSOLIDATION NOTICE ENGAGEMENT CONFIRMED —
Amaiyla Hollingsworth & Xander Reyes
The world tilted.
My fingers went numb around the phone. "Connor, I—"
"You're engaged?" he said, the word sharp, disbelieving. "To him?"
The door behind us opened.
I didn't need to turn around to know who it was.
Xander stepped outside, calm as ever, coat perfectly straight, expression unreadable. He took in the scene in one glance — Connor's clenched fists, my pale face, the phone still between us.
"So it's true," Connor said bitterly, eyes locked on him. "You didn't even wait."
Xander stopped a few feet away.
Not confrontational.
Not defensive.
Just… present.
"The announcement went live an hour ago," Xander said evenly. "That's when you found out."
Connor laughed, short and hollow. "You say that like it's a calendar reminder."
I stepped forward. "Connor, listen—this isn't what it looks like."
"Then explain it," he snapped, turning back to me. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you were handed off like an asset."
Xander's gaze sharpened — not angry, but focused.
"She wasn't handed off," he said calmly. "She was targeted."
Connor rounded on him. "You don't get to talk about her like you're the authority here."
Xander didn't raise his voice.
"I am the authority in this clause," he replied. "Whether you like it or not."
The certainty in his tone hit harder than shouting ever could.
Connor stepped closer, fury vibrating under his skin. "You think hiding behind contracts makes you powerful?"
"No," Xander said. "Understanding them does. With or Without it i'm more powerful than you think.''
I could feel the shift — the way the air seemed to settle around Xander, not Connor. That terrified me.
"This isn't his fault," I said quickly. "I didn't choose this nor did he."
Connor's eyes softened for half a second. "Didn't you?"
Xander moved then — just one step, positioning himself slightly in front of me.
Not blocking me.
But shielding me.
"This conversation isn't helping her," he said quietly. "And you know it."
Connor's hands curled into fists. "You think you're protecting her?"
"I know I am." Xander's voice was so calm and dominant.
Connor shook his head, voice breaking now. "They're reopening files. They're threatening my career. My past. And somehow, you walk in and get rewarded?"
"This isn't a reward," Xander said flatly. "It's containment."
"Of what?" Connor demanded.
"Of fallout," Xander replied. "Yours. Hers. Everyone's."
I stared at him. "You knew about this."
Xander didn't deny it. "I knew it was coming."
Connor froze. "You knew… and you didn't say anything?"
"I wasn't allowed to," Xander said.
Silence fell — heavy, brutal.
Connor took a step back, running a hand through his hair. "So this is it," he whispered. "I lose her because I am … inconvenient."
"That's not what's happening," I said, tears burning behind my eyes.
But Xander spoke before I could continue.
"What's happening," he said calmly, "is that she's being removed from the line of fire. And you're too close to the blast radius to see it clearly."
Connor looked at me one last time. "Do you want this?"
My throat closed.
Before I could answer, Xander's phone buzzed at the same time as mine.
CLAUSE 21 — IMMEDIATE COMPLIANCE REQUIRED DESTINATION: VALENCOURT ESTATE, SOUTH OF FRANCE DURATION: 7 DAYS REASON: PUBLIC CONSOLIDATION
My chest tightened.
Seven days.
With him.
Alone.
"This isn't consolidation," I whispered. "It's isolation."
"Yes," Xander said quietly, eyes already calculating. "That's the point."
Connor let out a bitter laugh. "You win."
Xander met his gaze, unflinching. "No. I endure."
Connor turned away without another word.
And just like that, the cage closed — not with bars, but with contracts, distance, and a view too beautiful to escape.
Xander — POV
What He Isn't Saying.
I don't like Connor.
Never have.
Men like him believe proximity equals ownership. That love excuses recklessness. That wanting someone is the same as protecting them.
It isn't.
Connor is emotional.
Volatile.
Easy to provoke.
Exactly the kind of man leverage feeds on.
And yet… I pity him. Just a little. Not enough to slow me down, not enough to interfere with my decisions. But enough to know that beneath the bravado, beneath the anger, he's drowning. That he's already half-broken by what he doesn't realize yet.
What I didn't say—what I couldn't say—was that Madrid wasn't a coincidence. The file didn't resurface for justice or truth. It resurfaced because I allowed it to. Because pressure reveals everything. And I wanted to see how long he could last before he became exactly what I needed him to be.
Connor — Aftermath
Alone.
The apartment was too quiet.
Connor stood in the middle of the room, jacket still on, his phone crushed in his hand as if it had personally betrayed him.
Engaged.
The word echoed again and again, a dull impact behind his ribs.
Amaiyla's laugh resurfaced—her voice, the way she used to say his name when she was tired. When she trusted him.
He had been protecting her. Or so he believed.
But protection meant nothing once power entered the room.
He opened the Madrid file again, eyes tracing details he hadn't allowed himself to linger on before. Dates. Names. Connections. One decision that should have stayed buried—and one leverage point that had never been fully used.
They hadn't exposed him.
They'd contained him.
And at the center of it all stood Xander Reyes—untouched, composed, already positioned as the solution. A man who preferred clean endings and sealed agreements.
Connor set the phone down this time. Carefully.
"This isn't over," he said—not as a threat, but as a conclusion.
Because now he understood.
Xander hadn't stolen Amaiyla.
He had claimed her.
And men who claimed people like assets always overlooked one thing: assets could be moved.
Connor's jaw tightened, something patient and calculating settling in his chest.
If Xander believed this ended in France—If he believed contracts erased history—If he believed Amaiyla was safer without the full truth—
He was wrong.
Connor had learned how power worked.
And when the time came, he would use it differently.
Xander Reyes would discover the difference between control and inevitability.