Shackled To The Enemy King

Maximilian slowed to a stop.

The subtle pull of his hand made Catherine pause too, her fingers still laced with his as she turned toward him. There was something in the way he looked at her, something heavier than before, something he hadn’t yet said.

He wanted to ask her.

Not about Joanne. Not about Alexander.

About him.

She loved him. That much was undeniable. She had said yes to him, had agreed to marry him, even when the proposal itself had been far from perfect.

But love and trust were not the same thing.

And marriage... could it stand without both?

Maximilian wasn’t sure if he was overthinking, but the thought had taken root and refused to leave. He had seen the hesitation she carried, the quiet caution that surfaced at the edges whenever the past brushed too close.

If she couldn’t fully trust Alexander, who had once been his brother in another life, once she learned of that fact... then where did that leave him?

Would she ever trust him completely?

"Catherine..." he said, his voice lower now, drawing her attention fully.

She turned to him at once, her gaze steady, focused entirely on him as if nothing else existed in that moment.

Do you trust me?

The question rose, pressing against his chest, but it never made it past his lips.

"Catherine!"

The call broke through the moment.

Both of them turned to see William, waving her over, in his workout attire. He must have been jogging.

The tension snapped, just like that.

Maximilian exhaled softly, the question retreating before it could be asked, before it could change something between them.

Catherine glanced back at him briefly, then toward William.

And together, still holding hands, they walked toward William’s house, following him.

Maximilian’s gaze lifted, and for a moment, he was genuinely taken aback.

The house wasn’t just large. It dominated.

A sprawling McMansion built in a distinct Spanish style, it stood apart from everything around it, as though it belonged to an entirely different world. Terracotta roof tiles sloped gracefully over ivory-toned walls, warm sunlight catching against arched windows and wrought-iron balconies. A wide courtyard opened at the front, framed by potted palms and flowering plants that softened the structure’s sheer scale, giving it a curated elegance.

It was, without question, the biggest house among the Prestons, at least to his knowledge, and the most deliberate.

Maximilian’s grip on Catherine’s hand tightened just slightly, not out of discomfort, but quiet observation, as his eyes traced the details. This wasn’t just wealth on display. It was taste and identity, carefully constructed and unapologetically visible.

He glanced at Catherine, then back at the house, a faint, unreadable smile touching his lips as they approached.

William led them out to the patio, where brunch had already been laid out beneath the filtered shade of a wide umbrella. The space carried the same Spanish charm as the rest of the house—cool stone underfoot, soft greenery framing the edges, the air faintly scented with citrus and fresh tea.

"I’ll be back in a bit," William said, already heading inside for a quick shower.

Catherine had barely taken a seat when she froze.

"Jon?"

Her surprise was unguarded as she spotted Jonathan already seated at the table.

It wasn’t that he didn’t belong there, but he rarely stayed this long. Even though he had his own house within the compound, it was almost always empty, his visits brief, purposeful. Perhaps their father’s illness had anchored him here a little longer than usual.

"I heard you took Richard’s daughter out for breakfast," Jonathan said, his tone easy, though his eyes were anything but. "We were actually planning to take Maximilian out hunting, but..."

"Oh?" Catherine’s hand stilled over the teapot.

She knew exactly what that meant.

That "tradition" had always been quietly sanctioned by their father—a test wrapped in something as harmless-sounding as a hunt. She remembered it too well. The last man who had dared to propose to Sammy had gone out with her brothers, full of confidence, and disappeared just as quickly, leaving without so much as a goodbye.

No one spoke of it afterward.

But Catherine had seen what it did to Sammy. The quiet fracture it left behind. Even Billy, who had witnessed it firsthand, never addressed it, not with his daughter, not with anyone.

Catherine had never been sure what exactly happened out there. Whether the man had revealed himself to be a coward, a gold digger, or whether the "test" itself had been something no one could reasonably pass.

Either way... She was relieved.

Hunting. With her brothers.

She had, quite possibly, just saved Maximilian’s life.

"Maybe another day," Maximilian said smoothly, as though declining such an invitation was the most natural thing in the world.

Jonathan studied him for a moment, then gave a small nod, letting the matter drop without pressing further.

The conversation shifted easily after that, slipping into casual small talk as Jonathan engaged him, measuring him in quieter ways now, without the spectacle of a hunt.

Catherine poured tea for Maximilian, her movements instinctive—steady, attentive. She placed a small plate of cookies in front of him before serving herself.

Jonathan watched that.

Maximilian rose without a word and adjusted the umbrella, angling it just enough to shield Catherine from the creeping sunlight.

They moved around each other easily, naturally, as if they had long since learned the quiet rhythm of one another. They didn’t look like they had just started dating.

Jonathan noticed.

Maximilian didn’t carry himself like a man chasing wealth. Billy had made it very clear earlier that Maximilian was a vegan, yet now he added milk to his tea without hesitation, choosing what was set before him without fuss. That, to Jonathan, was secondary.

What mattered was this... The way he cared for Catherine.

It wasn’t performed. It wasn’t deliberate. It was instinct. Effortless, like breathing, like it had already become his habit.

And that... that was the kind of thing that lasted. The kind of thing that held a marriage together long after everything else had worn thin.

Jonathan’s gaze lingered a moment longer.

There was something else in Maximilian too.

An elegance.

Not the loud, curated kind that men tried to acquire, but something quieter; an ease in the way he carried himself, a restrained masculinity Jonathan had only ever seen in certain old European families. It wasn’t taught. It was lived.

It suited Catherine.

She had always preferred that kind of refinement—quiet luxury, understated grace, things that didn’t need to announce their value.

He could see now why she had chosen him.

Jonathan leaned back slightly, his decision settling quietly in his mind.

He approved.

Perhaps marriage didn’t need to be rushed—but he understood now why his brothers were pushing for it. Their father needed something to hold on to. Something to look forward to. Catherine’s wedding might be exactly that.

Still...

Jonathan wasn’t a man who rushed to conclusions.

He would watch. And see where this led. But first...

"Do you have any issues with BioQuant?" Jonathan asked.

Catherine stilled.

Because that wasn’t a random question. It was oddly specific.