Xander's POV
The car wheels crunched over gravel as we passed through the iron gates of our estate. I kept my face pressed against the window, watching the familiar landscape roll by. Those gates were older than memory, twisted into designs that spoke of power and tradition. Beyond them stretched grounds that screamed old money with every perfectly manicured hedge and strategically placed stone. It was the kind of beauty that made your chest tight, like looking at something too perfect to touch.
My thoughts kept drifting back to her hair.
