A Second Chance At Love

Chapter 4: Wife.

For a long moment, Xander forgot how to breathe.

His eyes were glued to her, staring as if she might vanish into thin air if he made a single wrong move. He swallowed hard, his gaze greedily drinking in every single detail.

That dress. God, it clung to her as if it had been designed with sinful, flawless precision.

It was crafted from a soft, silver fabric, smooth and fluid, draping over her body like liquid starlight. It hugged every curve without apology—drawing in perfectly at her slim waist before cascading over her hips in a way that made his jaw lock. A high slit ran up her thigh, revealing just enough luminous skin to be dangerous. Every step she took felt entirely deliberate, carrying a quiet kind of seduction she wasn’t even trying to perform.

And that was the torturous part—she wasn't even trying.

Her skin glowed with a soft, natural radiance under the street lamps. It wasn't overly polished or artificial. It was just uniquely hers. Smooth. Untouched. Real.

Xander's fingers twitched at his side, fighting a desperate urge to reach out.

Her shoulders were bare and elegant, the neckline dipping just enough to draw the eye without losing an ounce of sophistication. It was controlled. Refined. And somehow, that restraint made it harder for him to look away.

Her makeup was subtle. A soft blush kissed her cheeks, and her lips were painted in a muted rose gloss that made him think of things he had no right to crave. Her eyes—those electric blue eyes that haunted his every waking hour—were sharper tonight, framed by long lashes that made every blink feel intentional. She had no idea what she was doing to him.

Her hair, those strawberry-red waves he had longed to run his fingers through for six agonizing years, fell over one shoulder in soft, curls, catching the light with every small movement. Zara had never needed effort to be devastating.

The jewelry was minimal and delicate. A thin silver chain rested just above her collarbone, and small earrings swayed slightly when she moved. She didn't need loud accessories. She was already enough. More than enough.

His gaze dropped lower to her sharp, sleek black heels. They added height, authority, and an air of untouchable confidence to her posture.

Xander exhaled a slow, trembling breath. His mind was in a total mess, his chest tightening in a way he couldn't control. If he didn't know her, he would have thought she was trying to impress him like every other woman in the City. But he knew Zara. She wasn't trying to impress him; she was trying to survive him. And that realization frustrated him to his very core.

Zara walked up to the side of the luxury vehicle, her steps radiating pure confidence. "I'm here, Sir," her voice wasn’t loud but it was clear and calm.

Without answering, Xander immediately stepped forward and opened the back door for her. Zara slipped into the car and he closed it carefully before walking around to settle into the other side.

As the Maybach pulled away from the curb, Zara looked up toward the front of the car. "Good evening, Liam," she said, giving the Chief Operating Officer a short, genuine smile through the rearview mirror.

"Good evening, Miss Fredrick. You look stunning," Liam replied politely from the front passenger seat.

"Thank you," Zara murmured, ignoring the silent, imposing man sitting right beside her. Or at least, she pretended to.

In reality, Zara knew she wanted nothing to do with him, but she wasn't blind. Xander Collins was devastatingly handsome. It felt entirely unfair that the universe had sculpted him to such perfection. He was a walking sin on two legs. His powerful frame was wrapped in a flawlessly tailored black tuxedo that practically screamed authority. His dark hair was slightly tousled in that intentional, messy way only insanely attractive men could pull off, and his piercing storm-gray eyes made her pulse dance erratically.

He had always been effortlessly attractive, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging it.

Zara locked her eyes onto the passing city lights outside her window. The drive was long, quiet, and suffocatingly tense. She didn't turn her head, but she could feel his gaze on her. It was intense. Unrelenting. It made her skin tingle in a way she would never admit out loud.

The car finally slowed to a smooth stop, the tires barely making a sound against a polished stone driveway.

The estate in front of them wasn't aggressively grand, but its architecture spoke a language of quiet authority and immense wealth. Soft golden lights highlighted the clean stone pillars and sweeping glass panels, reflecting the twilight sky like a mirror.

Xander stepped out of the vehicle with fluid precision. He walked over to her side, opened the door, and offered his hand. Zara bypassed him stepping out onto the stone path on her own.

But before she could take a step toward the entrance, Xander slid his right hand firmly around her waist. His grip was possessive, warm, and unyielding.

The sudden contact sent a jolt of electricity through Zara’s body. She instinctively tried to wrench herself away, but his arm tightened, holding her against his side.

"Miss Fredrick," Xander’s voice cut through. Dark, low and rough with an emotion he was fighting to suppress.

Zara cranked her neck, glaring up at him.

"The press is right past those doors," Xander murmured, his eyes locking onto hers with absolute seriousness. "You don't expect me to walk into a business gala with my partner looking like we just had a screaming match, do you?"

Zara’s eyes flashed with annoyance. "I am your executive assistant, Mr. Collins. Not your partner," she whispered sharply, trying to keep her tone professional.

Xander didn't argue. He didn't smile. He just swallowed the sharp ache in his chest, adjusted his grip on her waist, and led her inside the grand hall.

The atmosphere inside shifted instantly, revealing a breathtaking ballroom filled with crystal chandeliers and cascading champagne towers. Rich people truly knew how to be obnoxiously grand.

As they walked, Zara noticed the entire room fall into a sudden, collective silence. Hundreds of eyes shifted directly toward them. Earlier that day, after Xander had ordered her to attend, she had reviewed his public files and realized he had never brought a female companion to a single event in his entire career. Now she understood why these ladies were staring at her with such blinding jealousy, envy, and hatred.

Zara let out a quiet breath. "This is going to be such a pain," she muttered under her breath, already exhausted by the vultures in the room.

She glanced up at the man beside her, only to find that he was already looking down at her, completely indifferent to the crowd around them.

"You better increase my salary, Mr. Collins," she told him under her breath as they navigated the floor. "Because my job description definitely didn't include dealing with a room full of crazy women who are in love with you."

Xander looked at the slight pout on her glossy lips, and a faint, almost invisible twitch pulled at the corner of his mouth. She fit so perfectly against his side. He knew she would give anything to be miles away from him right now, but he was a desperate man taking a dangerous chance. He would do absolutely anything to keep her this close. He would endure her anger, her coldness, anything—just to have those beautiful blue eyes look at him again.

"Mr. Collins! What a wonderful evening it is," a booming voice interrupted them.

An investor in his late fifties approached, and the slick, oily tone of his voice instantly caused goosebumps of disgust to break out on Zara's skin.

"Good evening, Mr. Zack," Xander replied. His voice was completely flat, his utter lack of interest glaringly obvious.

Mr. Zack immediately shifted his attention to Zara, his eyes scanning her silver dress. "And who might this breathtaking beauty be?"

The blatant lust dancing in the older man's eyes made Zara’s skin crawl. She felt incredibly uncomfortable, but she maintained her poise. Having worked her way through various high-end business environments, she knew exactly how to handle disgusting men of rich society.

"Good evening, Sir," Zara greeted politely, keeping her expression perfectly neutral and offering zero personal information.

Mr. Zack smirked, stepping closer, his eyes refusing to leave her chest.

Before the investor could utter another word, the air in the ballroom shifted. The temperature around them seemed to drop to below freezing.

"If you don't take your eyes off her right now," Xander spoke casually, his voice dropping to a low, quiet whisper that carried a terrifying, killing instinct. "I promise you, she will be the last person you ever see."

Mr. Zack froze, stumbling backward in sheer fright as a cold sweat instantly broke out across his forehead. The suffocating, murderous aura radiating from him was entirely real.

But Xander wasn't finished. His arm tightened around Zara's waist, pulling her so close their ribs touched. He looked directly at the trembling investor, his voice ringing with a deep adoration that made Zara’s head snap up in absolute shock.

“This is my wife, Zara Collins.”