Catherine looked up at Maximilian, her gaze meeting his at last. She was certain her face was flushed, the heat rising far beyond what the bath could justify, and the awareness of it only made it worse.

Maximilian’s lips curved slightly at the sight of her, something soft and knowing in his expression. Without a word, he held out his hand.

"What?" Catherine asked, though her voice lacked any real resistance.

He didn’t answer. He only tilted his head faintly, damp strands of dark hair falling against his forehead, his eyes steady in a way that made it impossible to look away. There was something disarming in that quiet patience, in the way he simply waited, as though he already knew she would come to him.

And she did.

Almost helplessly.

She placed her hand in his, and he drew her toward him with an ease that made the movement feel natural, inevitable. The water shifted around her as she moved, and the next moment, she found herself settling onto his lap.

She had expected something else.

Expected his hands to wander, his lips to follow, his gaze to burn through her in a way that would leave her breathless all over again.

But he didn’t.

He simply let her rest against him.

One arm came around her waist, steady and warm, while the other remained still, giving her space even as he held her close. There was only a quiet presence that wrapped around her just as much as the warmth of the water did.

Catherine let herself lean into him.

Her cheek rested against his chest, and beneath her ear, she could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, calm and unyielding. It grounded her in a way nothing else had since they left the harbor, the tension slowly easing out of her body without her even realizing it.

"Have you calmed down?" Maximilian asked softly.

She tilted her head just enough to look up at him, her brows knitting slightly. "When was I not calm?" she countered, though the deflection lacked its usual sharpness.

This man... was far too perceptive.

"You’re scared of him," Maximilian said.

It wasn’t accusatory or even gentle. It was simply true.

Catherine exhaled slowly, the fight leaving her shoulders as she let her head rest back against him. For a moment, she said nothing, as though weighing how much she was willing to admit, even to herself.

"It’s..." she hesitated, her fingers curling slightly against his shoulder. "It feels like before. We’re so close to getting married... and he’s still there... looming... watching..."

Her grip tightened unconsciously.

"I don’t want to be in a position where I have to walk to him again."

The words came quieter now, but they carried something heavier than fear.

Maximilian felt it in the way she tensed against him, in the way her entire body seemed to brace against a memory she hadn’t fully spoken.

His hand came up, fingers gently lifting her chin so she had no choice but to meet his gaze.

"Even if I fail spectacularly... somehow," he said, his voice steady, grounding, "you wouldn’t have any reason to go to him."

There was no arrogance in it. Only certainty.

Catherine held his gaze, searching it, and slowly, she exhaled.

"I know..." she admitted. "My family wouldn’t allow it. And... even my research isn’t worth that."

Not at that cost.

Maximilian leaned forward, pressing a quiet kiss to her forehead, lingering just long enough for her to feel it.

"Do you want to get married now, baby?" he asked softly.

The question was deliberate. He was offering her something solid to stand on, something that couldn’t be taken from her.

Catherine’s eyes lifted to his immediately, something shifting in them—something steadier now, clearer.

"Can we?" she asked, her voice quieter, but no less certain. "We could register the marriage first... and have the ceremony later."

Maximilian’s brows lifted slightly.

So she had been thinking about it.

Catherine shifted closer, her body relaxing as she leaned back against his chest, the water rippling softly around them. For a moment, she simply stayed there, listening to his heartbeat again, as though drawing strength from it before she spoke.

"I don’t want to do that to our families," she said quietly. "A wedding... isn’t just about the two of us. Marriage is—but a wedding..." Her fingers traced an absent pattern against his shoulder, her thoughts settling into clarity as she spoke them aloud. "It involves everyone who loves us. I don’t want to take that away from them just because I’m afraid of him."

She paused, her grip tightening just slightly.

"He doesn’t get to decide my life like that."

There was no attempt to hide the fear, but... she refused to let that fear take control.

Maximilian let out a soft chuckle, his hand coming up to cradle the back of her head as he pressed a kiss into her damp hair.

"That’s my Katerina..." he murmured.

There was quiet pride in his voice.

Not because she wasn’t afraid, but because she chose not to run from it.

He understood, perhaps better than anyone, that the strongest thing she could do was stand her ground and face whatever came next on her own terms. Running would only give Dorian power he didn’t deserve, and Catherine... she was never meant to live under someone else’s shadow.

And truthfully... he didn’t want to elope either.

Not when it meant denying their families a moment that belonged to all of them.

The water cooled slowly around them as the tension of the night finally eased into something softer, something almost peaceful. When they eventually stepped out, the quiet intimacy lingered, warm and steady.

Catherine finished drying her hair, the soft hum of the dryer filling the room for a while before fading into silence.

When she turned, she found Maximilian sitting nearby, watching her.

Just... watching.

Her gaze shifted around the room, and only then did she notice it—the small changes, the subtle rearrangements. Things placed just so, details aligned in a way that felt familiar, comforting.

Like home.

He had done that.

Without needing to... Without saying a word.

Something in her chest softened, a quiet warmth spreading through her that had nothing to do with the bath from earlier.

"My man..." she murmured under her breath, almost to herself.

And yet... the way her eyes lingered on him after said everything he needed to hear.

Maximilian reached beneath the mattress and pulled out a key, the small, deliberate motion immediately catching her attention.

"Want to come?" he asked, glancing at her over his shoulder.

Catherine’s eyes widened, curiosity lighting up her face in an instant. "No way... is that the key to your hobby room?"

There was something almost childlike in the way her excitement surfaced—unfiltered, immediate.

Maximilian only smiled, a quiet hint of amusement in his expression. "Let’s go."

She didn’t need to be told twice.

When they finally stopped in front of the door, he turned the key, and he pushed it open.

For a moment, she didn’t speak.

Didn’t move.

She just stood there... stunned.