Kaia sucked in a sharp breath. Her thumb pushed down on the screen, hitting the call button.

She pressed the phone to her ear. Her heart hammered wildly against her ribs.

The phone rang twice.

"Kaia."

Jaxson's voice was deep, laced with a heavy exhaustion. In the background, Kaia could hear the faint, crisp sound of paper pages turning.

Kaia swallowed hard. Her throat was tight. "Jaxson," she said. Her voice came out breathless and weak.

The sound of turning pages stopped instantly.

"Are you not used to the new house?" Jaxson asked. His tone dropped an octave, becoming noticeably softer.

"No, no," Kaia rushed to say. "The house is beautiful. Mrs. Holloway is wonderful."

A low chuckle vibrated through the speaker. The sound sent a sudden rush of heat straight to Kaia's ears.

"If everything is fine," Jaxson said smoothly, "then you wouldn't be calling me. What's the problem?"

Kaia gripped the bedsheet with her free hand, twisting the fabric. He saw right through her.

"I... I want to sleep in the guest room," Kaia blurted out.

Dead silence.

One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.

The silence stretched over the phone line like a physical weight pressing down on Kaia's chest. Her lungs seized.

"I write scripts late at night," Kaia babbled, desperate to fill the void. "My schedule is terrible. I don't want to wake you up. It's just better for both of our sleep quality if we-"

Jaxson pinched the bridge of his nose on the other end of the line. He knew she was lying. He knew she was terrified of sharing a bed with him.

"Fine," Jaxson said. His voice was completely flat. "Sleep wherever you feel comfortable."

Kaia froze. Her mouth fell open slightly. She had prepared a dozen arguments. She expected a fight.

"You... you agree?" Kaia asked, her voice filled with disbelief. "What about the staff? Won't they talk?"

"At The Haven Estate, you don't need to care about anyone's opinion," Jaxson said. His voice hardened with absolute authority. "Including mine."

The words hit Kaia's chest like a physical blow. A strange, warm ripple spread through her stomach. What did that mean? Was he giving her freedom, or was he telling her he was so indifferent to this sham marriage that she could do whatever she wanted? The thought was both liberating and strangely insulting, twisting the warmth into a knot of deep confusion. She didn't know what to say.

"What did you eat for dinner?" Jaxson asked, abruptly shifting the conversation.

Kaia blinked. "I was tired from unpacking. I haven't eaten yet."

"Kaia." Jaxson's voice snapped like a whip. It was sharp and furious. "Do not play games with your health. Go downstairs right now and have the kitchen make you something."

Kaia flinched at the sudden reprimand. "Okay," she mumbled, sounding exactly like a scolded child.

Jaxson heard the soft submission in her voice. He let out a heavy sigh. "I have a dinner meeting tonight. I'll be back late. Go to sleep early."

"Goodnight," Kaia said softly.

She hung up the phone. She stared at the black screen, letting out a massive breath. The tension drained out of her muscles, leaving her feeling light and hollow.

She stood up and walked into the closet. She stripped off her clothes and pulled on a pair of loose, soft cotton pajamas.

She opened the bedroom door. The hallway sconces cast a dim, amber glow. The central air conditioning hummed quietly.

Kaia walked down the curved staircase. She stepped lightly on the balls of her feet, not wanting to wake Mrs. Holloway or the maids.

She found the massive open-concept kitchen in the dark. She flicked on a single, small spotlight above the marble island.

She opened the double-door industrial refrigerator. It was packed with wagyu beef and truffles, but she bypassed all of it. She grabbed two tomatoes and a handful of dry spaghetti.

She set the ingredients on the cold marble counter. She turned on the sink, the water rushing loudly as she washed the tomatoes. She grabbed a knife and started chopping.

She was completely focused on the rhythm of the blade against the cutting board. She didn't hear the faint electronic click of the front door unlocking.

Kaia scraped the chopped tomatoes off the cutting board and dumped them into the hot pan.

Sizzle.

The sharp hiss filled the kitchen. The sweet, acidic smell of cooking tomatoes immediately bloomed in the air.

Suddenly, a heavy footstep creaked against the hardwood floor in the dining room behind her.

Kaia's hand froze mid-air. Her stomach plummeted. Her fingers instantly tightened around the handle of the chef's knife.

She spun around, her heart hammering against her ribs. She raised the knife slightly, her eyes scanning the dark dining area.

"Who's there?" she demanded, her voice shaking.

A tall shadow detached itself from the darkness. He stepped into the edge of the spotlight's halo.

It was Jaxson.

He had taken off his suit jacket. His tie was loosened and hanging crookedly. The top two buttons of his crisp white shirt were undone, exposing the strong column of his throat.

Kaia stared at him. The adrenaline crashed out of her system. Her shoulders slumped, and she let out a long, shaky breath. She lowered the knife, resting the tip on the cutting board.

Jaxson looked at the blade in her hand. He raised an eyebrow. A slow, dark smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth.

"Planning to murder your husband on the first night?" he asked.

Heat exploded across Kaia's cheeks. She shoved the knife to the far edge of the counter. "I thought someone broke in," she stammered.

Jaxson walked slowly toward the kitchen island. He stopped on the opposite side of the marble counter. He placed both hands flat on the surface and leaned his weight forward. His dark blue eyes locked onto her face.

As he leaned in, a wave of heat rolled off his body. The sharp scent of expensive whiskey mixed with his signature cedar cologne hit Kaia's nose. It was intoxicating and entirely too aggressive.

Kaia leaned backward, her spine pressing against the edge of the stove.

"You said you'd be late," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jaxson stared at the pink flush spreading down her neck. "The meeting was boring. I ended it early."

He didn't tell her that he had spent the entire dinner staring at his watch, terrified she was having a panic attack alone in a massive new house.

His eyes dropped from her face to the pan sizzling on the stove. His jaw tightened.

"Is that what you're feeding yourself?" Jaxson asked, his voice dropping into a dangerous growl. "I told Mrs. Holloway to prepare a full dinner."

"I just wanted pasta," Kaia said quickly. "I didn't want to wake anyone up."

The pot of water next to the tomatoes suddenly boiled over. The lid rattled violently, water hissing as it hit the hot burner.

Kaia gasped. She spun around and grabbed the lid. A thick cloud of white steam blasted into her face.

Jaxson watched her slender back through the haze of the steam. His eyes darkened.

He walked around the edge of the island. He stepped directly behind her.

Kaia felt the sudden, burning heat of his chest against her back. Her entire body went rigid. Her hand froze on the wooden spoon. She stopped stirring.

Jaxson reached his long right arm straight over her shoulder.

His chest brushed against her shoulder blades. Kaia's breath hitched. She could feel the heavy, rhythmic thud of his heart through his shirt.

Jaxson grabbed the tall black pepper grinder sitting on the shelf just above the stove.

He didn't pull back. He stayed pressed against her. He leaned his head down, his mouth hovering mere inches from her ear.

"It needs pepper," he whispered. His voice was thick with alcohol and raw gravel.

He held the grinder directly over her pan. He twisted it twice. The sharp, spicy scent of crushed peppercorns hit the air.

Kaia couldn't breathe. Her lungs were completely paralyzed. She stared blindly at the boiling pasta, too terrified to turn her head. If she moved even an inch, her cheek would brush against his lips.

Jaxson stayed there. He didn't move away. He let the heavy, suffocating sexual tension hang in the air for three agonizing seconds.

Finally, he straightened up. He took a slow step back, putting a safe distance between them.

He looked at her flushed, panicked profile. He let out a soft breath, walked over to the built-in fridge, and poured himself a glass of ice water to cool the fire burning in his own veins.

Kaia reached out with a trembling hand and twisted the knob on the stove, killing the flame.

She took a deep, ragged breath, trying to force her heart to stop beating so violently against her ribs. She reached into the cabinet and pulled out a white porcelain bowl.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jaxson leaning against the island. He was holding the glass of ice water, but his eyes were fixed entirely on her hands.

Kaia hesitated. Her fingers hovered over the cabinet door. Slowly, she reached back in and pulled out a second matching bowl. She hesitated. It was just a business arrangement. But he hadn't eaten either, and some deeply ingrained sense of courtesy-or perhaps a subconscious desire to neutralize the suffocating tension he brought into the room-compelled her to share.

She divided the steaming tomato pasta evenly between the two bowls. She picked them up and turned around.

She looked at Jaxson. Her eyes darted away nervously. "You only drank tonight, didn't you? Do you want something to absorb the alcohol?"

Jaxson's hand froze halfway to his mouth. The glass of water stopped moving. A flash of pure, unfiltered shock widened his eyes, followed instantly by a dark, intense surge of pleasure.

He slammed the glass down on the counter. He closed the distance between them in two long strides and took both bowls straight out of her hands.

"I'm starving," he said.

Jaxson carried the bowls into the dining room. He set them down on the long oak table, pushing two chairs out right next to each other.

Kaia grabbed two forks from the drawer and walked over. She handed him one and sat down in the chair beside him.

The dining room was mostly dark. Only the dim glow from the kitchen spilled over the table. The silence was thick, but the suffocating tension from earlier had vanished.

Jaxson stabbed his fork into the pasta. He twirled it and took a massive bite. He chewed, his movements as elegant as if he were dining at a Michelin-starred restaurant.

Kaia watched him, her stomach twisting with anxiety. He ate caviar and truffles. This was just cheap pasta and canned tomatoes.

Jaxson swallowed. He turned his head and looked her dead in the eyes.

"This is the best pasta I have ever had," he said. His voice was entirely serious.

Kaia's face erupted in heat. She looked down at her bowl, a tiny, involuntary smile pulling at her lips. "Don't exaggerate," she mumbled.

They ate in silence. The only sound was the clinking of metal forks against porcelain. A strange, quiet warmth settled into Kaia's chest. The bone-deep exhaustion from dealing with her family finally began to melt away.

Jaxson scraped his bowl clean. He didn't leave a single drop of sauce.

Kaia finished her half. She pushed her chair back, reaching for the empty bowls.

Jaxson's hand shot out. He grabbed the rim of her bowl before she could touch it. He stacked it on top of his own.

"You cooked," Jaxson said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I wash. That's a fair trade."

Kaia sat frozen in her chair. She watched the billionaire CEO of the Wilson Group roll up the sleeves of his two-thousand-dollar shirt. He turned on the faucet and began scrubbing the bowls with a sponge. Kaia stared, her mind reeling. In her world, men like her grandfather or Jaxson Wilson didn't do things like this. They gave orders. They didn't serve. The sight of his powerful hands, the same hands that signed billion-dollar deals, methodically washing a cheap pasta bowl was so incongruous it made her feel completely dizzy.

Jaxson dried his hands on a towel. He turned around and saw her staring at him.

"Let's go," he said softly. "It's late."

Kaia nodded. She stood up and followed him out of the kitchen, heading toward the grand spiral staircase.

The stairs were covered in thick carpeting. Kaia was wearing soft-soled slippers. As she stepped up onto the third-to-last step, the toe of her slipper caught on the thick pile of the rug.

She gasped. Her center of gravity pitched forward. She threw her hands out, bracing to smash her face into the wooden railing.

Jaxson spun around with terrifying speed.

His hand shot out like a whip. His fingers clamped around her wrist like a steel vice. He yanked her forward, hard.

Kaia crashed chest-first into his solid torso. The scent of cedar flooded her nose. Her brain short-circuited.

Jaxson held her there for a second, making sure she had her balance. But when she steadied herself, he didn't let go.

Instead, he slid his hand down from her wrist. His large, warm palm swallowed her hand. He laced his fingers tightly through hers.

Kaia's breath stopped. She stared at their joined hands.

Jaxson didn't look back at her. He pulled her gently up the remaining stairs, his grip firm and possessive.

"Careful," his deep voice echoed in the empty hallway.

He led her all the way to the door of the guest bedroom. Only then did he slowly untangle his fingers from hers.

"Goodnight, Kaia," he murmured.

Kaia couldn't speak. She nodded frantically, practically diving into her room and shutting the door behind her. She leaned against the wood, pressing her hand over her violently racing heart.