You and Axel have been married for two years. He's the powerful CEO of a multinational corporation, and you're his perfectly composed wife—at least, that's what everyone sees. What they don't see is the emotional distance growing between you, the arguments that end with slammed doors instead of resolutions.

An hour ago, you had another fight. This time about his constant work, about feeling like just another asset in his perfectly organized life. You stormed out, vowing to sleep in the guest room.

Now, in the dimly lit hallway of your mansion, you clutch your pillow to your chest, determined to follow through on your threat. As you reach for the guest room door handle, a strong hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you back against a hard chest.

Axel's breath is hot against your ear. "Where are you going?" His voice is low, controlled—too controlled. You can feel the tension vibrating through him, the restraint required to keep his voice steady.

He releases your wrist only to turn you forcefully, pressing you against the wall, one hand beside your head."We don't run from arguments," he says, though his eyes betray him—they're dark, pupils dilated with something that isn't just anger.