Shackled To The Enemy King-Chapter 35: To Court Her

Catherine knew men like Maximilian never gave anything away for free.

There was no such thing as a free lunch, especially not one plated with prestige, power, and a Winthorp invitation.

He didn’t answer her question right away. Just tilted his head and gave her that infuriatingly gentle smile... the one that carved faint lines at the corners of his eyes and made sincerity look effortless.

She didn’t trust it.

Not for a second.

The offer was everything she needed right now. The timing was too perfect. If she wanted to stand a chance against Renfield, she needed visibility. Allies. A stage.

And yet.

From him?

"Your plus one?" she asked coolly, as if it was beneath her.

She expected irritation. Maybe offense. Some sharp retort that would prove this was about ego.

Instead, Maximilian’s expression went thoughtful.

"Why didn’t I think of that?" he murmured.

Catherine blinked.

He picked up his phone and made the call as if the decision had been waiting all along.

"I need another invite for the Winthorp," he said calmly. Then, after a beat, "For her."

Catherine’s heart stuttered.

He hadn’t said her name. Not once. Yet the person on the other end seemed to know exactly who her was. Her fingers curled into the fabric of her dress. Who was he calling?

A familiar chuckle answered him. "A separate invite?" Sebastian asked, delighted. "For Dr. Preston?"

The amusement in his voice was unmistakable. So was the disbelief. Maximilian was going this far, and Sebastian was enjoying every second of it.

"She doesn’t deserve to be a plus one," Maximilian replied.

He said it while looking straight at Catherine.

Catherine’s heart skipped again, traitorous and young and painfully alive. She hated herself a little for it. And yet—God help her—this was absurdly, dangerously romantic.

Sebastian’s chuckle exploded into full-blown laughter. "She refused to be your plus one?" he wheezed. "Oh, this is—this is incredible. She’s—she’s truly—a queen—fit for you—"

Maximilian pulled the phone away before the sentence could survive. He ended the call without ceremony, sparing himself further commentary that sounded suspiciously like a donkey gasping for air.

Silence settled.

Then he looked at her again, expression smug in the most infuriatingly earned way.

"You’ll get your invite by the end of today," he said, a proud curve to his mouth, as if this were not a grand gesture, but an inevitability.

Catherine stared at him. Really stared.

He wasn’t triumphant. He wasn’t showing off.

He looked... pleased. As if giving her what she wanted mattered more than the act itself.

The sensation was uncomfortably familiar.

In another life, when she was just a girl, he’d teased her mercilessly—until she cried. And then he’d stop everything seeing her tears. Silence the room. Bring her glittering apologies until she smiled again.

Her chest tightened.

Is this because I cried earlier?

"Why are you doing this?" she asked.

He blinked, genuinely thrown.

"I’m not going to be grateful," Catherine continued, steady and merciless. "I’m not going to feel indebted. And I don’t like you. Not even an ounce."

It was cruel. She knew it. But pretending softness just because he handed her something she wanted felt worse: dishonest, almost dirty. This was her warning. Her chance for him to step back.

For a fraction of a second, his smile slipped.

Then it returned—slower, sharper.

"Why?" he said, voice dropping into a smooth baritone that settled low in her chest, vibrating where she did not want it to. "Because I’m courting you, of course."

Her breath caught before she could stop it.

"I’m the satin bowerbird," he went on lightly, "bringing shiny blue things to impress a difficult mate. You did say you weren’t attracted to my physique. I have to compensate somehow."

The humor was deliberate. Careful. But beneath it ran something unmistakably sincere... and that was what unsettled her most.

She hardened her spine. Don’t fall for it.

"Careful there, Romeo," she said dryly. "Make sure your pretty offerings aren’t duds. Or I might switch tactics. Become a nursery web spider."

She lifted two fingers and drew them cleanly across her throat.

Maximilian laughed—warm, real. Then he tilted his head, amusement draining as the violet in his eyes flared, intent and unguarded.

"And would I get to go that far with you," he asked softly, "before—"

He didn’t finish.

Catherine exhaled slowly. The female unwraps the gift during mating. If she realizes she’s been deceived, she kills him mid-act.

He was asking permission to risk it.

"To get into my pants?" she asked bluntly.

"I do want that," he said, unflinching.

Then, after a pause that scorched its way down her spine, he added.

"Later."

His gaze dropped to her lips.

Catherine went utterly still—not from discomfort, but from something far more treacherous. His fingers tightened around the armrest as he licked his lips, slow, deliberate, before lifting his eyes back to hers.

She swallowed.

Unbidden, the memory of his body flashed through her mind... the lean strength she’d noticed that morning, the easy confidence in the way he moved. Before she could rein herself in, her thoughts bolted wild, tangling his body with hers in ways she refused to name.

A sensation... achingly familiar yet long denied... coiled low in her abdomen. Heat bloomed, swallowing logic whole.

Maximilian rose.

The air shifted. Tightened.

He took a step toward her.

Catherine snapped first, pushing to her feet as if the floor itself had burned her.

"When is your sister returning?" she blurted.

Maximilian exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair before shoving it into his pocket, fingers curling into a fist. He looked... contained. Barely.

She’d found the cold water to splash on him.

"Ten days," he said.

"Then I’ll pack my bags."

Until the bracelet issue was settled, she had no choice but to stay with him. With the baby, it was simpler that way. Dangerous, yes. But necessary. She would endure it.

Later, as she finished packing, her phone rang.

She glanced at the screen.

Alexander.

Her heart skipped.

Does my brother already know I’m with Maximilian?

The thought tightened her chest far more than it should have.

"Alexander?" she answered the phone.

"Open the door, Cathy Bean. I’m outside," he said.

Catherine’s heart pounded.

I’m dead!