The Billionaire’s Bride: Our Vows Do Not Matter

Avery’s eyelids fluttered against the glare of a ruthless sun. Heat clawed through the half-drawn curtains, dragging her from sleep’s feeble grip. A smirk played across her lips, a plan already simmering in her mind.

She snatched her phone from the nightstand, thumb-jabbing at Xavier’s contact like a promise of chaos. She dialed his number, but the call failed. A beep, then silence. She tried again. Same damning beep. Frustration knotted in her chest; she tossed the device aside.

“Fuck this,” Avery hissed under her breath, the words sharp and bitter.

She got up and went into the bathroom. The room echoed with the hiss of running water as she stepped into the shower, shedding her nightwear like an old skin. Water pelted her flesh, yet it was nothing compared to the storm brewing within. Her plan was going as planned; she was receiving Xavier’s empathy.

She dressed to kill-or rather, dressed to fuck-she slipped into a dress that left little to the imagination. Hems rode high. Curves hugged tight. Intentions laid bare. She wanted him to look at her. She wanted to show Xavier that even she could be sweet like Cathleen. She drove to Knight Group International.

Knight Group International loomed ahead, a monolith of glass and steel. Avery’s heels clicked a staccato rhythm on the marble floor, each step a war drum heralding her arrival.

Upon her arrival, Avery saw Xavier taking the private elevator and then went to the receptionist. “Hi, I was just with Mr. Knight, not sure where he went.” She says, smiling at the woman at the front desk.

“Mr. Knight just took the elevator,” the receptionist informed without looking up, voice dripping with indifference.

“Tell him I was held up,” Avery lied smoothly, her eyes tracking the closing doors of Xavier’s private ascent. Without waiting for a response, she dashed to the elevators, stabbing the button for the last floor with a manicured nail.

The doors of the elevator slid open, and there he stood: Xavier, commanding and cold, his attention fixed on some underling who couldn’t quite meet his gaze. Avery watched an observer of his natural habitat, the predator among prey.

Slipping away unnoticed, she entered the restroom, the mirror reflecting a vixen’s grin. She put on her lipstick, a slash of crimson defiance, and painted her mouth. This was armor, not vanity.

“Showtime,” she murmured to her reflection, steeling herself with the visage of a woman who knew the game and how to play dirty.All rights © NôvelDrama.Org.

She came out of the restroom, a panther poised for the pounce. Each step towards Xavier’s office was calculated, an intruder cloaked in seduction and deceit.

“Control yourself, Avery,” she whispered, a mantra to quell the quake of anticipation. “This is just another game.”

Avery’s knuckles rapped against the door, her impatience an echo in the vast hallway. She didn’t wait for an invitation, crossing the threshold into Xavier’s domain with a nerve that was all pretense.

“Good morning, Xavier,” she cooed, lips curling into a smile that flirted with danger.

Xavier’s eyes cut through her like shards of ice. His presence dominated the room, an unspoken command for silence and respect, neither of which Avery granted.

“It’s Mr. Knight to you.” His voice was whip-crack, sharp and commanding. One hand remained casually pocketed, but his posture was anything but relaxed.

“Who let you in?” The question was delivered with frostbite severity.

“Do I need an appointment to have a word with my brother-in-law?” Avery taunted, testing waters she knew were infested with sharks.

“Yes, you do,” came Xavier’s clipped response, a verbal barricade erected in moments.

“The last time I checked, my wife cut all ties with you and your family.” Xavier’s words were guillotine, slicing through the tension. There was no warmth here, only the cold truth.

“Oh, come on, Xavy,” Avery purred, desperation lacing her tone. “You saw we were good the other day. Cathleen and I have been talking since. That’s why I’m here.”

“What is it that you are looking for? Because my wife wants nothing from you, and yet, you are here lying about talking to her.” His accusation was a gut punch, leaving her reeling.

Avery felt the color drain from her face, the taste of defeat bitter on her tongue. Change the topic. Regain control. That’s all she needed because this man in front of her wasn’t buying her act.

“Come on, big guy, it’s noon; let’s grab some lunch.” Her hand reached out, a viper camouflaged in velvet gloves.

“Don’t you dare fucking touch me ever again!” Xavier’s voice was a thunderclap, his reflexes swift as he batted her hand away.

Avery’s balance betrayed her, ambition giving way to gravity. Her ass met the floor with a thud that resonated deeper than the polished marble beneath her.

She rose, the sting of marble against her flesh a fleeting reminder of Xavier’s rejection. Fabric whispered as she smoothed down her dress, each motion calculated to regain some semblance of composure. Her eyes slinked towards him, glinting with a defiance that bordered on recklessness.

“I’ve been playing nice with you,” she hissed, closing the distance between them with predatory grace. “But it seems like you want me to play the hard way.”

She wrapped her arms around his torso, a serpent coiling around its prey, just as Cathleen’s voice echoed through the hallway-a siren call that Avery exploited in her desperate gamble. Xavier’s body tensed beneath her grip, steel wrapped in silk, his reaction not one of shock but a silent acknowledgment of Avery’s audacity.

The office door swung open and Cathleen sauntered inside. The sight that greeted her was a tableau etched with treachery. “Oh, Avery, you are here?” Her words dripped with feigned surprise, piercing the thick atmosphere as she placed homemade food on Xavier’s desk-a peace offering or perhaps a claim.

In a flash of movement, Avery disentangled herself from Xavier’s rigid form, her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and arousal, an act put on for prying eyes. Cathleen, unmoved by the display, ascended the desk with the ease of a queen claiming her throne. Legs crossed, hands clamped over knees-she was power personified, her smile an enigma that sent shivers down Xavier’s spine.

“So, what brings you here?” Cathleen inquired, the curve of her lips promising retribution or reward. Xavier couldn’t understand what Cathleen was up to. Avery let out a nervous laugh. “Cathy, it’s not what you think?” Cathleen cocked her head and looked at her stepsister. “What is it that you think I’m thinking?” Avery felt like a bucket of ice-cold water poured into her. Her plan wasn’t working!