Chapter 4

KIMBERLY'S POV "Kimberly, wait!" I froze mid-stride, rain soaking through my clothes, plastering my hair against my face. My suitcase dragged behind me, its wheels squeaking in protest as it struggled over the cobblestones. Slowly, I turned, my breath catching as I took Xavier in, with an umbrella over his head, eyes wide open in piercing awareness and fixed to mine. "Are you okay?" he asked calmly, the aftertaste of concern still caught in his tone. Rain was clinging to the tailored suit, but he didn't act like he cared about it. I stood up and refused to let any emotions out. "I am fine. I don't need your pity." He stepped closer, yanking me under his umbrella out of the downpour. "I'm offering no pity. I am offering assistance because you looked like you needed someone tonight." I laughed, the bitterness high in my voice. "Well, I don't. I've handled my family for years, and I can handle walking away from them on my own.” "Handled them?" His brow furrowed and his voice dropped. "They bullied you, didn't they? Your father, your brothers, even Madison. They have done this to you before, haven't they?" I stuttered, taken aback by the depth in his voice. "Why would you care?" I asked, turning to evade. His eyes softened but his voice was firm as he said, "Because you're my wife, Kimberly, and whether you believe it or not, I'll always take care of you." I froze-the word "wife" hung there like some weight too heavy to be borne. "Don't call me that," I snapped. "We both know this marriage is just a formality. You should be with Madison. She's the perfect Harrington daughter, isn't she? Polished, refined, obedient-all of the things I will never be." He stepped closer, and the umbrella canted forward, droplets of rain hitting his shoulder. "Madison isn't my wife, Kimberly. You are. And I don't care what your family says or does. You are the one I chose." "Choose?" I sneered, shaking my head. "You didn't choose me. Your grandfather did. All this is business to you, Xavier. Let us not pretend otherwise." His face clouded over and his voice fell to that low even tone. "I married you, Kimberly, because I wanted to. Not because of a contract, not because of your family and certainly not because of Madison." I stared at him, the sincerity in his voice taking me aback. For one wild moment, a tiny piece of my brain had dared hope that he was telling the truth. Then reality exerted itself. "It does not matter," I answered as my voice broke. "I've already cut ties with my family. I bring nothing with me, Xavier. No powers, no alliances, nothing worth staying married over.” A step closer to me, he clasped the handle of the umbrella tightly. "I'm not going to care about some value and alliance. It's not what I am going to gain. It's you, Kimberly, you are my wife, and it's my promise to you, to be beside you for protection." His words cut into me much deeper than I would have believed, scraping barnacles off barriers forged over years. "Why?" I said the word little more than a whisper in the loudness of the rain- "why would you do that for me?" His eyes bored deep into mine as he spoke, even his tone serious. "Because I see you, Kimberly, who you are, not whatever you're told you ought to be.” My throat was hoarse, and I shook my head, not wanting to acknowledge just how he'd made me feel. "This is madness. We don't even know each other, Xavier. What of the agreement? This was Madison's responsibility to begin with. Not me." He exhaled slowly, his eyes never leaving mine. "Your grandfather was the one who made the agreement, not Madison’s parents. You’re the real Harrington daughter, Kimberly. It was always supposed to be you." The weight of his words settled over me, leaving me reeling. Was that why he insisted on this marriage? Was it out of loyalty to the contract, or was there something more? I shook my head, stepping backward. "I can't do this, Xavier. I just can't act like this… this arrangement means something." "Then don't," he said resolutely. "Let's make a deal." I frowned, crossing my arms protectively against my chest. "A deal?” "One year," he said, and his voice was firm. "We'll stay married for one year. At the end of that time, if you want out, I'll give you a divorce. No strings attached. And I'll make sure you're taken care of financially." I blinked, startled, by his offer. "And if I want out after a year, what then?” "Then you leave with half of what I have," he said; his voice didn't even quiver. I was incensed. "Half? You gotta be crazy! That's…that's preposterous!" A small quiver of a smile danced upon his lips. "Perhaps it is. But I am ready to take that gamble.” I stared at him, trying to work out his motive. There had to be more than that-again, not something he was telling me. Still, despite the many doubts nagging me, this offer was good-one year was not forever, and I could do this for a year. So I nodded reluctantly, knowing all the while I'd do something to regret afterwards. "Fine. One year. But I don't need that much money, and also don't expect me to play the perfect wife." "I wouldn't dream of it," he said, his smile softening. After that wordless, he jerked his head toward his car parked just feet away. "Come on. I'll take you to my place." I hesitated; rain still poured down on us. A part of me really wanted to decline and cab it, disappear into the city. But that part tired of fighting decided to take him up on the offer. "Fine," I grumbled, heaving my suitcase toward his car. There was tension between us on the drive-all, nothing more, no talk of marrying. I kept glimpsing at him and wondered what runs through those acacia-sharp eyes: so composed, so collected, and just about him is really the factor that does leave me an edge. Struck-the minute he pulls up into the drive in front of this house: a big estate that's sleek and new with tall glass lines. "This is your house?" I asked as he turned off the car's motor. "Yes," he replied, reaching into the trunk for my suitcase. He took me inside and gave me a tour of the main floor, showing me each room. It was plush but without the over-the-top tackiness that screamed money. There was just something so homey about it that caught me off guard. "You'll stay here," he said, swinging the door open into a big bedroom with an extra-large window to let him enjoy a magnificent view of the city. I crossed my arms purely in defense against his caring treatment, finding it pulled painfully on my heart. "And where are you to be?" "In my room," he returned nonchalantly. "And again, I want no pressure forced between us. You choose here." I nodded, unsure of my words. I noticed the neighborhood was close to my university and as Xavier started to turn away, a memory welled up unplumbed. "Xavier," I said, catching him. It was high time I feed my curiosity. He turned, his brow raised. "Yes?" "You used to come to my university," I ventured, my voice tentative. "Back when I was still a junior student. You said you were visiting a friend, but even after they graduated, you kept coming back. Why?” He said nothing for a moment. Then he closed the gap between us a little better, his voice low, even. "I wasn't there for my friend," he said, his eyes holding mine with a new intention. "I was there for you." As suddenly as the surge of a wave, my breath caught on that sentence. "What?” No explanations whatsoever, only turned and disappeared out of the room, leaving me in stunned immobility.