Chapter Twenty-One: Fire and Frost.

The Ashford estate was still wrapped in a white hush of winter, but inside, everything burned.

Julian didn't knock. He stormed into Cassandra's room without a word, jaw tight, his black cashmere coat dusted with snow. Cassandra looked up from the fireplace, wrapped in a thick sweater and wool socks, her eyes narrowing.

"Do you always barge into women's rooms like a raging blizzard?" she snapped.

He didn't answer. Instead, he crossed the room in three strides, eyes blazing with something darker than anger.

"You went behind my back."

Cassandra blinked. "Excuse me?"

"The Beaumont clause," Julian growled. "You knew about it. You knew our marriage was legally locked for a year and said nothing."

She stood slowly. "I found out yesterday. From your uncle. I wanted to tell you, but I was still processing it myself."

"You should've come to me the second you knew."

"Oh please," she shot back, "like you've told me everything? Like how you kept Lena a secret until she was in danger? Or how your father bribed my mother to force this marriage?"

That shut him up.

"I was trying to protect us," she added, softer now. "I didn't expect to... care this much."

He stared at her. The crackling fire behind her cast a golden halo across her hair. She looked tired. Frustrated. Beautiful.

"I hate how much I want you right now," he muttered.

She blinked. "What?"

Julian didn't repeat himself. He kissed her. Hard. Wild. Desperate. She melted into it.

Their mouths crashed like thunderclouds. Her sweater came off in seconds, his coat tossed aside. Buttons popped. Breath quickened. They landed on the plush carpet before the fire, tangled in heat and want and raw honesty.

"Julian," she gasped as his lips traveled to her neck, her shoulder, lower—

"Say it again," he whispered against her skin.

She pulled him closer. "We're doomed."

He grinned. "Hopelessly."

Later, when they lay tangled in each other, her head on his chest and snowflakes falling outside the window, he said:

"Let's rewrite the rules."

Cassandra lifted her head. "What do you mean?"

"This marriage... let's take back control. Find the clause. Destroy it. Rebuild the company our way."

She smiled. "You mean, burn the rulebook and dance in the ashes?"

"Exactly."

She pressed a kiss to his chest. "Let's do it."

Neither of them noticed the blinking red light across the room—a hidden camera behind a painting, quietly recording everything.

Somewhere in the shadows of the estate, a figure smiled. Let the games begin.