Erin wasn't sure what time it was when she felt the blanket shift off her shoulder.
She stirred slightly, groaning under her breath. She was still wrapped in sleep, her limbs heavy, her mind foggy—but there was the unmistakable scent of him. She knew it even before her eyes blinked open. Cedarwood. Clean linen. A faint touch of something darker, something entirely him.
"Xander," she murmured hoarsely, turning away from the direction of the breeze that had touched her cheek. "What are you—?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he bent down and, without a word, slid his arms under her and lifted her up in one smooth motion.
"Xander!" she gasped, suddenly fully awake. "Put me down!"
"Shhh," he whispered like it was the most normal thing in the world. "You'll wake the house helps."
"What?!"
She wriggled a little in protest, hitting his chest with the softest, most ineffective fists. "I'm serious, Xander—where are we going? I swear, if this is one of your crazy—"
"Stop moving," he said calmly, adjusting her weight against him. "You'll make me drop you, and then you'll have to explain your bruises to HR."
She grumbled something under her breath, but when she glanced up at him—at the peaceful expression on his face, the effortless way he carried her like she weighed nothing at all—she stopped fighting. Slowly, her limbs relaxed, her head dropping against his chest with a soft exhale.
Fine.
Whatever this was, she would humor him for now.
She nestled into the warmth of his scent, letting herself breathe him in. She hated how comfortable it was. How familiar. How safe.
The hallway was dim and silent as he walked. When the cold wind hit her skin again, she realized they were going outside. Rooftop. Of course he was dragging her to the rooftop at dawn. Just another day of Xander being anything but the ruthless heir people claimed he was.
Once they reached it, he didn't say a word. He sat down with her still in his arms, as if putting her down would shatter something fragile in the air. It was quiet. Still. The kind of silence that didn't need to be filled.
"What... are we doing here?" she finally whispered, her voice tight with sleep and confusion.
He didn't answer her right away. Instead, he nodded toward the skyline. "Look forward."
Erin blinked blearily, shifting in his arms just enough to see past his shoulder.
And then she saw it.
The horizon was blooming. Not in loud, fiery colors, but with slow, graceful strokes of peach and lavender and gold. The sky was stretching its limbs in soft hues, painting itself awake. The city below was hushed, like it too was holding its breath, waiting for the light.
Her lips parted, a whisper caught on the edge of wonder.
Beautiful was too small a word.
She didn't realize she was smiling until she felt his breath near her ear. "There it is," he murmured.
She turned slightly to look at him. "You did all this to watch a sunrise?"
"No," he said simply. "I did all this so we could see one. It's one of the very few views of nature around that I can have the chance to witness with you."
She blinked, suddenly remembering something distant.
There had been a time—not long after she first started working here—when Xander had asked her for her interests. Five of them, to be exact. She'd thought it was some stupid game, another one of his petty ways to irritate her, so she'd spat out the first five things that came to mind just to shut him up. Nature had been one of them. She didn't even know why she'd said it.
And yet...
He remembered.
"You still remember that?" she asked, voice softer now. "I only said it to get you to leave me alone."
"I figured," he said, eyes still on the rising sun. "You didn't exactly look passionate about it."
A beat.
Then—
"I don't know what my interests are," she admitted quietly.
He looked down at her. "What do you mean?"
"I never had time for them. Hobbies... interests... they weren't a thing in my world. They were luxuries. Distractions. My life was about... restoring an image I didn't destroy." She gave a bitter laugh. "And now that I actually have a moment to breathe, I don't even know what I like. Isn't that pathetic?"
"No," he said immediately, without hesitation. "It's not. But why didn't you have time for that?"
She didn't answer.
"I get it," he added. "I wasn't allowed to have interests either. Heir to an empire, remember? My whole life has been about becoming something. Not being someone."
She looked at him again. Her brows had furrowed, her voice caught in her throat.
It shouldn't have surprised her. Of course someone like him would have been molded into something sharp and unbending. But still... she'd thought people like him had everything.
Power. Freedom. Choice.
She was wrong.
A long silence stretched between them. Not awkward—just full.
And then he whispered, "But we could start now."
She blinked. "What?"
"Acknowledging what we like," he said, pulling her closer. "Finding out what matters. Even if it's just this."
She swallowed.
He rested his chin lightly on her head. "You don't have to be alone in it."
Erin didn't know how to respond to that. Not really. Because the truth was, she wanted to stay right here. She wanted to lean into this moment and pretend that none of it was complicated. That she wasn't here to destroy his family. That she wasn't fighting this impossible pull between them.
So instead, she closed her eyes. Just for a moment.
And let herself exist in the stillness.