Your penthouse was quiet. Too quiet.

Which was ironic considering Xavier was currently pressed up behind you, his shirt halfway undone, your lipstick smudged against his neck like a secret.

“You always this noisy when you’re trying to stay quiet?” he murmured into your shoulder, one hand firm on your waist as the other slid lower.

You tried to shoot him a glare, but it came out more breathless than threatening. “You know you’re the problem, right?”

That smirk. That arrogant, Xavier Castillo smirk.

“You called me at 11 p.m.,” he said, voice thick with amusement. “I assumed it wasn’t for stock advice.”

You shoved lightly at his chest. “I hate you.”

He dipped his head. “Lie better.”

But before he could kiss you again—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You both froze.

Another knock.

“Who the hell—” you started, already moving for your robe.

Xavier grabbed his jacket, sliding behind the bedroom door, that smirk gone. “You expecting someone?”

You peeked through the peephole… and nearly screamed.

Solane. Your best friend. In her pajamas. With takeaway in her hands and zero clue her best friend had Xavier Castillo half-naked in the bedroom.

Panic.

You flung the door open, trying not to look guilty.

“Hey!” she beamed. “I was nearby, and I figured late-night noodles and wine wouldn’t hurt.”

“Oh,” you said, voice higher than usual. “Yeah! Love that. Totally down for that.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You okay?”

“Me? Fine. Perfect. Just… tired.”

“Uh huh.” She stepped inside. “You look flushed.”

You muttered something about “too much skincare” and sprinted to the kitchen to grab plates—completely forgetting Xavier’s tie was still on the couch.

And Solane spotted it.

She blinked. Picked it up slowly.

“Whose is this?”

You froze mid-step.