The Devious Husband: Sierra and Xavier’s Story (The Windsors)

I keep rereading the same paragraph in my romance novel and silently curse Xavier for ruining my favorite hobby for me. All evening I’ve been trying to read, and all evening, I haven’t stopped wondering what Xavier stole from me. Three years ago, I swore I was done with him and our stupid feud, only to become embroiled in his schemes again.

I never should’ve retaliated when he stole my design plans, and I shouldn’t have gone to his opening party. I definitely never should have danced with him. My heart beats a little faster as I think back to the way his body felt against mine, and the way he looked at me as we moved so perfectly in-sync. Each time we dance together, he makes me forget why I hate him, and then he opens his damn mouth.

I grit my teeth as I think back to his venomous words. He’s such a flirt, and he doesn’t even seem to realize how disrespectful it is toward Valeria, or maybe he simply doesn’t care. After all, he’s Xavier Kingston, one of the most eligible men alive, according to those horrid gossip magazines I pretend not to read.

I clench my jaw as his whispered words come to mind, and all of a sudden, they make sense. You look dazzling, my darling kitten, but your neck looks awfully bare tonight. I slam my book shut and my heart begins to pound as I rush through my walk-in wardrobe, toward a hidden panel that slides open when I push against the Windsor family crest, my fingerprints registering. My heart drops as I walk into my hidden safe and find all of my most expensive necklaces missing, the displays showcasing vastly different designs.

I gasp as I take a step closer and recognize them for what they are: seven extremely expensive Laurier designs that I’ve never seen before. My stomach somersaults when I notice the little notes in front of each design, and I raise a brow in confusion.

“What the hell?” I mutter as I take in the pieces of paper that look like a cut-up ransom note, all of them in slightly different sizes, and all of them on sepia paper. Did he cut these out of a newspaper? My hand trembles as I lift the first two pieces and study them. Dear kitten, they read, and judging by the font and the size of the text, I strongly suspect he cut this out of a novel.

“What a barbaric, inhumane thing to do,” I mutter as I begin to reassemble the pieces in an attempt to figure out what the note is supposed to say. I’m so distraught by the fact that he seems to have cut pages out of books, like some kind of psychopath, that it takes me a moment to comprehend what the message is.

Dear Kitten, please know that I wish it were my hands on your skin each time you wear these necklaces.

I stare at it wide-eyed and raise my fingers to my neck, my heart hammering in my chest. Is he threatening me? Does he want me to wear these necklaces and imagine him choking the life out of me for annoying him just a touch too much? “He’s crazy,” I mutter to myself. “I’ve driven him completely crazy.”

I can’t figure out the meaning of this. If he wanted to gift me jewelry, he’d just have done so, though I can’t imagine Xavier Kingston ever giving me a present. No, this isn’t a gift, or he wouldn’t have stolen my jewelry and left that creepy note. It isn’t even in his handwriting, nor is it signed, so even if I did report it, there isn’t anything pointing toward him, other than it being Laurier jewelry, which he reportedly recently commissioned. I know him well enough to know he won’t leave traces, and even if I could pin this theft on him, he’d simply walk away unscathed. His brother is the mayor, after all.

I’m frazzled as I begin to take inventory of what exactly he took in an attempt to figure out his motive, only to realize he stole one piece he never should’ve touched — a heirloom piece my grandmother gifted me when Raven married Ares. Each Windsor bride is given a heirloom Laurier piece shortly after their wedding day, but my grandmother gave me mine on the same day Raven received hers. She rightfully didn’t think I’d be patient enough to wait for it, and I’ve carefully stored it ever since I received it, only for Xavier Kingston to steal it. “Goddamnit.”

If he hadn’t taken that specific piece, I’d likely have let his unhinged behavior slide. After all, the value of the items he left me likely matches or exceeds what he took. But this? If my grandmother ever finds out I lost something so precious, she’d be beyond disappointed in me. I need to retrieve it before she ever finds out it was missing.

“Xavier Kingston,” I mutter under my breath as I grab my car keys and storm out of my house. He had to have known that necklace meant something to me. I don’t know how, but somehow, he must’ve known. This can’t have been a coincidence, and I just don’t understand how he continues to get under my skin like this. How does he know which buttons to push to infuriate me, and why the hell does he keep coming after me when I tried and succeeded in being the better person for so long?

Whatever unspoken ceasefire existed between us ends nows, permanently. I don’t know how he managed to get into the Windsor estate, let alone in my home, but he should’ve known better than to break into what should’ve been a highly secure vault and taking something my grandmother gave me.

I’m fuming as I park in front of his office building, pure adrenaline rushing through me as I sneak around the back, to a private entrance Xavier thinks I don’t know about. I once bribed our head of security, Silas Sinclair, to hack into Xavier’s system and give me his entrance codes. Xavier, being the cocky asshole he is, never changes them.

I breathe a sigh of relief when the door unlocks, revealing a hallway with an elevator at the end that leads straight to Xavier’s office, where he’s hidden his most secure vault. I’m certain that’s where he’d have put my jewelry. Nerves rush through me as I enter the elevator and keep my head down, realizing I rushed into this without the usual preparation. Normally I’d have worn a wig and a hoodie, along with gloves and actual shoes, instead of the fuzzy house slippers I stormed out in. I’d have carried my usual mischief bag, filled with tools that help me both break in and do some decent damage — instead, I’m armed with nothing but my knowledge of Xavier and a whole lot of guts that have suddenly failed me at the thought of Xavier’s office not being empty when the elevator doors open.

I exhale shakily when I step forward hesitantly, suddenly far more nervous than I’d anticipated. I’m trembling as I push against a painting and watch it swing open to reveal a large vault. “Please,” I whisper, hoping his code is still the same. 8502, as always. I’m sure it has some kind of sentimental value since he uses the code frequently, but I haven’t been able to figure it out. I’ve only just begun to turn the lock when alarms begin to blare, and I turn around, panicked.

“Who are you!” a patrol guard shouts, illuminating the room with his flashlight, and I rush over to the elevator, only to find it locked.