Maximilian let out a low breath, sothing close to a groan, his head tilting back for a mont before his gaze snapped back to her, into sothing sharper and darker.
"Catherine..." her na left him like a warning and a plea all at once.
But she didn’t stop. Didn’t look away.
She stayed with him, steady, intent, until the tension he had been holding finally gave way.
His grip tightened briefly around her hand, his breath breaking as he let himself go, the control he prided himself on unraveling completely in that mont.
And then, as the intensity passed, he leaned forward, his weight settling over her as he caught his breath.
For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.
His forehead rested against her shoulder, his breathing still uneven, his arms braced on either side of her, as though grounding himself.
Catherine’s fingers curled lightly against him, her own breath soft and unsteady, her heart still racing—not from what she had done, but from what it ant.
Maximilian let out a quiet breath, one hand sliding up to cradle her face, his thumb brushing gently along her cheek as he looked at her—really looked at her.
And this ti, there was no restraint in his eyes—only warmth, only sothing deep and unmistakable.
"You..." he murmured softly, as though the word alone carried everything he couldn’t fully say.
Catherine smiled, her fingers slipping into his hair as she drew him a little closer, her forehead brushing his. "I love you."
"I love you too..." he whispered.
Sothing settled in his chest then—heavy, bright, and almost overwhelming in its quiet intensity. It wasn’t the fleeting rush of desire or the lingering warmth of the mont they had just shared. It was sothing far deeper, far more enduring. The way she had looked at him, the way she had chosen him so openly, without hesitation—that was what stayed with him.
She might never fully understand what it ant to him.
Not just what she had done, but what she had revealed.
That she loved him.
That she trusted him.
That she was his—not in possession, but in the way two people chose each other, again and again, without fear.
He drew her closer, his arms tightening around her as if to hold that feeling in place, to keep this mont from slipping away.
And in that quiet aftermath, wrapped in warmth, shared breath, and the steady rhythm of their hearts, there was no distance left between them.
Only the quiet, undeniable presence of sothing far deeper than desire.
Maximilian pressed a soft kiss to the crook of her neck, lingering there as if he couldn’t get enough of her.
Catherine let out a light giggle, pushing at his shoulder. "What are you doing?"
He didn’t answer. Instead, he continued—his kisses trailing, slow and unhurried, his touch slipping beneath the fabric of her dress as he drew it higher. His lips followed, warm against her skin, leaving a path that made her breath hitch despite herself.
At first, she laughed softly, the sound bright and unguarded, but as his attention deepened, as his touches grew more intent, she pressed her hands against his chest and pushed him back slightly.
He had forgotten.
Or perhaps he simply didn’t want to rember.
His hands lingered at her waist, then drifted upward, holding her boobs, and drew her close as he rested against her, reluctant to let go, as though even this small distance felt unnecessary.
Catherine couldn’t help but smile at him, warmth blooming in her chest at the way he clung to her, so openly, so without restraint.
"Aren’t you going to wash up?" she asked softly.
She wanted to stay like this...wrapped in him, safe and warm, but she was still aware, still grounded in the small practicalities that refused to disappear even in monts like these.
Maximilian lifted his head, looking at her.
And then his expression shifted—softening, brightening in a way that felt almost boyish.
"Join ," he said, a quiet eagerness slipping into his voice.
Catherine hesitated for only a second.
There was sothing about the way he looked at her—open, hopeful—that made refusal impossible.
In the end, she let out a small breath and nodded, allowing him to pull her up with him.
Together, still wrapped in the quiet warmth of everything they had just shared, they slipped into the soft hush of running water, the world outside fading into nothing but distant silence.
When they returned, sleep claid them easily, their bodies finding each other without thought, as though even in rest they refused to be apart.
Morning ca gently.
Catherine stirred, her lashes fluttering as she woke, only to find the space beside her empty once again. She pushed herself up with a soft yawn, stretching lazily, the lingering warmth of the night still clinging to her skin.
A faint sound drew her attention.
She turned toward the vanity... and there he was.
Maximilian stood there, already dressed, holding up two dresses with an almost boyish anticipation in his eyes. "Matching or contrast?" he asked.
"Contrast," Catherine replied without hesitation, her voice still thick with sleep. Then she narrowed her eyes slightly. "But why?"
Instead of answering directly, he held up his suit, a clear contrast to the dress she had chosen, his lips curving with quiet satisfaction.
"Which tie?" he asked, though he barely gave her ti to respond before selecting one that perfectly echoed the color of her dress.
"Get ready soon," he added, his smile bright, almost restless. "After breakfast, we’re going sowhere."
Catherine blinked at him.
He was far too energetic for a cold winter morning.
She couldn’t quite match that excitent yet, but his expression, which was so open and eager, nudged sothing in her, and she found herself getting ready faster than she intended.
By the ti she ca downstairs, fully dressed, she paused.
There were photographers.
Her eyes widened slightly.
An engagent photoshoot?
Excitent sparked instantly, bright and bubbling. Of course, this made sense. And Maximilian... he had chosen the colors well. She glanced at her outfit, then instinctively moved to adjust her hand, wanting to ensure...
Her breath caught.
Her ring.
It wasn’t there.
For a mont, her mind refused to process it.
Maximilian was occupied, speaking with the photographers, unaware as Catherine quietly stepped back and slipped inside, her composure already beginning to crack.
Her heart started pounding, loud and relentless in her ears.
She retraced her steps.
The bedroom. The balcony. The bathroom.
Every surface, every corner, every place she might have carelessly set it aside.
Nothing.
Her breaths grew shallow, uneven, but she forced herself to stay calm. Panic wouldn’t help. Crying wouldn’t help.
Think.
Where did I last see it?
Her hands trembled slightly as she searched again, more frantically this ti, opening drawers she had already checked, scanning the floor as if the ring might magically appear if she just looked hard enough.
How?
How did I lose it in a single day?
Catherine pressed her lips together, her chest tightening.
She was careful. Always careful.
And yet...
She stood in the bathroom again, staring at the empty counter, her thoughts spiraling, when she heard it... Footsteps from behind her.
Maximilian’s.
Her heart thudded harder, sharp and loud, as she slowly turned toward the door.
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