"You are going to pay for that," Xander growled, grabbing for her again.
But Elena was already moving.
The second his hand shot toward her, she twisted sharply to the side, her body reacting on instinct rather than thought. His fingers grazed her arm instead of closing around her throat, and that alone shocked him.
Elena spun, planted her foot, and slammed her elbow into his ribs.
Xander staggered half a step, more stunned than hurt, his eyes flashing with something close to disbelief. "You little—"
"Don't you dare touch me again," She snapped, her voice no longer sweet, no longer soft. Whatever innocence she had been pretending cracked cleanly down the middle. Her eyes were sharp now, burning, fearless. "You don't get to put your hands on me and walk away."
Xander lunged at her.
This time she didn't retreat. She met him head-on.
They collided hard, bodies crashing together, the impact knocking the breath from both of them. His strength was overwhelming, solid as stone, but Elena moved like she had nothing to lose. She shoved, clawed, twisted, refusing to let him pin her again. Her knee came up, her shoulder slammed into his chest, and for a split second he lost his footing.
That was all she needed.
She shoved him back, but Xander caught her wrist, yanking her forward. Momentum sent them stumbling together, crashing against the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped under their combined weight as they tangled, limbs everywhere, breath harsh and uneven.
"Get off me," he snarled.
"Then let go," she shot back, teeth clenched as she fought his grip.
They struggled, rolling, grappling like enemies locked in a fight neither was willing to lose. Somewhere in the chaos, the knot of his towel loosened under her grasp as she tried to shove him away, and suddenly it fell free.
Xander froze.
So did Elena.
The room seemed to hold its breath.
Before either of them could react, the door flew open.
"Oh my God."
The sharp gasp came from the doorway.
Xander's grandmother stood there, tall and elegant, her eyes wide with pure shock. Beside her, the elderly butler from earlier stared in stunned silence, his composure completely shattered by the scene in front of him.
Xander totally naked, breathing hard.
Elena pinned beneath him on the bed, hair wild, eyes blazing.
For one long, horrible second, no one moved.
"This," his grandmother said slowly, her voice trembling with disbelief, "is not what I expected to find in the east wing at this hour."
Xander swore under his breath and rolled off Elena instantly, grabbing for the fallen towel and wrapping it around his waist with rigid control. His jaw was clenched so tightly a muscle jumped beneath his skin.
Elena sat up, smoothing her dress, lifting her chin. She didn't look ashamed. She didn't look flustered.
She looked furious.
"I wandered into the wrong room," she said coolly, meeting his grandmother's gaze without flinching. "Your grandson decided that justified trying to choke me."
Silence slammed into the room like a gunshot.
The butler's face drained of color.
Xander's grandmother, Daphne, turned slowly to him, her expression calm but probing. "Xander," she said quietly, "is that true?"
Xander scoffed, running a hand through his damp hair. His chest was still rising too fast, adrenaline buzzing under his skin, anger mixing with something far more unsettling. He hated being caught off guard. He hated witnesses even more.
"I think the question we should be asking," he snapped, "is why a random woman is in my bedroom. Who the hell is she anyway?"
Elena straightened immediately, as if nothing had happened. She lifted her chin and turned to his grandmother, slipping effortlessly back into the sweet, innocent, role she played so well. Her eyes softened, lashes lowering just enough, her expression open and respectful, almost fragile.
"My name is Elena Charles," she said gently. "I work for Harper. She's the one who invited me to your home, ma'am. I just wandered into the wrong wing. I'm very sorry if I've caused any trouble."
Xander stared at her in disbelief.
Her acting was brilliant.
Not a tremor in her voice. Not a crack in her composure. If he hadn't felt her fight him with everything she had moments ago, he might have believed her himself.
His grandmother stepped closer, her sharp gaze sweeping over Elena before settling on her neck. She paused there, just a moment too long. Faint bruises were already blooming against Elena's flawless skin.
"Oh, you poor thing," she said softly. "Please pardon my barbaric grandson. He has always had a… severe reaction to strangers in his space."
She turned to Xander then, her tone losing its gentleness. "You forget yourself."
Xander's jaw tightened. "She was snooping around," he said flatly. "You know the rules."
"And you know better than to lay hands on a guest," Daphne replied coolly. Her eyes hardened. "Especially one this beautiful."
The butler cleared his throat awkwardly, clearly desperate to disappear.
"I'll escort Miss Charles back to her room," Daphne continued. "You," she said to Xander, "will calm yourself before dinner."
Elena dipped her head politely. "Thank you, ma'am."
She turned to follow his grandmother toward the door.
But Xander's hand shot out.
He grabbed Elena by the arm and yanked her back against him, hard enough that she stumbled, the breath leaving her lungs in a sharp gasp.
"But we haven't finished what we started, Grandma," Xander said coolly. "She can't possibly leave now."
Elena stiffened. The butler froze. His grandmother frowned, clearly confused by the edge in his voice.
Xander bent his head, his mouth close to Elena's ear, his grip firm enough to warn her not to pull away.
"You're not the only one who knows how to act," he murmured, low and dangerous, meant for her alone.
Elena's brow creased, irritation flashing beneath her carefully maintained composure—but before she could react, before she could even draw breath, Xander pulled her closer.
And kissed her.
Not gentle. Not slow.
Claiming.
Elena froze, shock locking her body in place as his presence swallowed her whole. The room seemed to hold its breath with her.
The butler turned on his heel immediately, mortified, and exited the room without a word.
Xander's grandmother remained where she was, staring at the two of them in stunned silence.
Xander pulled back slowly. His piercing grey eyes locked onto Elena's, daring her to react, daring her to expose him. There was no apology in his expression. Only control.
"You see, Grandma," he said calmly, almost lazily, "we were just having a little fun. Elena panicked when you walked in unannounced and told a rather… creative story so she wouldn't get into trouble." His arm stayed firmly around her, possessive, convincing. "If you don't mind leaving us to it, that would be appreciated."
Daphne's gaze drifted to Elena's neck, to the faint redness blooming beneath her skin. Her brows lifted slightly.
"Fun?" she echoed.
Xander didn't hesitate. "She likes it a little rough," he said smoothly. "Don't let the soft looks fool you."
Elena felt her blood boil.
"No—ma'am, that's not true," she said quickly, words tumbling over each other as her composure cracked. "He's lying. I don't—there is nothing going on between us. We weren't—this isn't—"
She stopped, realizing too late how frantic she sounded.
Daphne chuckled softly, the sound warm and indulgent, completely misplaced. "Oh, darling," she said, waving a hand dismissively, "there's no need to be embarrassed."
Elena stared at her, stunned. Was this old woman actually believing him?
"I'll leave you two alone," Daphne added with a knowing smile, even winking at Elena before turning toward the door.
Elena stood frozen, disbelief washing over her in waves.
She watched Daphne leave, then slowly turned her head toward Xander, her eyes sharp now, furious.
He was already smiling.