You were still nursing your coffee when you heard the first clunk.

Padding back into the bedroom, you froze in the doorway—because there was Xavier Castillo, billionaire CEO, crouched on the floor shirtless, his hair still damp from a shower, sleeves of his sweatpants rolled up. The bed frame was tilted on its side like a crime scene, tools scattered on the rug, and Xavier was glaring at it like it was a hostile takeover.

“Are you…fixing the bed?” you asked, leaning against the frame of the door, suppressing a laugh.

He didn’t look up. “It broke. I’m fixing it.”

“Xavier,” you said, half amused, half exasperated, “you could literally buy us ten new beds by lunch. Why are you playing handyman?”

Now he looked up, narrowing his eyes at you in that unreadable way that always made your chest tighten. “Because I’m the one who broke it,” he said smoothly, with a deliberate glance that made heat creep up your neck. “And I don’t like leaving messes behind.”

You pressed your lips together, failing to hide your smile. “You mean we broke it.”

“No,” he corrected, tightening a bolt with unnecessary force. “I distinctly remember you blaming me for how loud the headboard was last night.”

You crossed the room, climbing onto what was left of the mattress so you could sit above him, sipping your coffee as you watched. “I don’t think you’re supposed to fix a bed frame like that.”

His jaw flexed as he wrestled with the screwdriver. “And I don’t think you’re supposed to distract me while I’m trying to make sure this thing doesn’t collapse again.”

“Oh, so you admit it’ll collapse again.”

He gave you a look—sharp, dangerous, but amused. “If it does, it won’t be because of my craftsmanship.” He reached for another screw, muscles flexing in his back, and you had the audacity to giggle.

“Xavier Castillo, billionaire CEO, on his knees fixing a bed. I should take a picture. People would never believe this.”

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned, voice low, though the corner of his mouth twitched.