If you're enjoying these chapters, do leave me cute comment/s. I am going through a little depressing phase workwise. Super hectic and all. Would love to feel cheered up from at least somewhere, lol. 

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"Darina Ivanov wasn't a socialite roughly about fourteen years ago. She used to be a rich housewife and then a stay at home mother," one of my most prized investigative journalists is briefing me over the call.

"I don't think I understand," I frown, poring over an update report sent by Kiara on the Stephen Biggs case on my phone.

Areston is busy on the speakerphone as he drives the La Voiture Noire with one hand and holds mine with the other. Since the start of our relationship on his private island in Greece, I have come to realize that he has this compulsive need to constantly touch me whenever we're together, and I have been hopelessly addicted to it.

My husband has been a man who commands the very air of the space he enters, and it extends to his interactions with me. Every touch is assertive, an unequivocal substantiation of his dominant nature to keep me under his control and his obsessively possessive need to keep his territory claimed in the manner he knows best—through continuous, possessive contact. The intensity of his unyielding touch belies a profound, darker craving—something that transcends love and possessiveness.

Every brush of his thumb in the area between my thumb and index finger stirs an electric charge in me. And I need this. Desperately so. I need the way his heat seeps into my skin. All the time. Even when we're not having sex but doing something as simple as watching the TV or cooking or playing with the doggos.

"She was this quintessential traditional stay-at-home mother, always shying away from any society scene until 2009. I studied the photos from her extremely rare social appearances. Grippingly conscious and conservatively dressed—a far cry from the women we see now. And unlike black that seems to be her wardrobe of choice, back then it was white. All white. Like those damn virgins, Juliette. I am telling you, looking into her and comparing her gave me serious creeps."

I frown at the screen of my Mac on the report I am reading. "That... odd."

"I know, right? She used to work as a personal assistant to the manager at Macy's where she met her husband. Her former colleagues describe her as hardworking, loyal, and cripplingly introverted women. Never flirted with anyone or had any partner that they knew of. They used to call her 'the Macy Mouse' because of her reserved nature. So, of all the female staff, it came as a shock to everyone that she was the woman who caught the eye of the billionaire shopper who ended up marrying her."

"And this was until 2009?" I suck in a deep breath, tenderly stroking my fingers over my husband's hand entwined with mine who's clueless that I'm talking about his wretched whore-of-a-godmother as he passionately takes leads on some project from one of his Vice Presidents over the handsfree.

"Yep and then boom. Her husband disappears from the deck of his yacht into the inimical waters of the Atlantic leaving behind a hotel empire in ruins and crushed by debt. He gets accused of looting hundreds of millions of pension funds of his employees. Everything he'd built was on the verge of crumbling when this new version of Darina rose to power. She starts with a massive image makeover. Choses to be spotted out mingling with the mighty royals like the De L'Aquila in a startling social coup that makes everyone notice her. And then takes over the helm of her husband's empire. She repaid every penny he stole and won the trust of her employees who in the beginning did overtime without pay just to help her balance things."

My eyebrows crawl up in surprise and I sag back against the seat.

Areston's head turns and he frowns. "What's going on?"

"Nothing." I say, smiling and returning the call. "How did she manage to do that?" I ask, looking out of the window.

"She drained both of her daughter's trust funds."

"Wowza." Darina did that?

"My sentiments exactly. She's clean, like squeaky clean as per my research on her."

"Well, if you need a pulitzer, you need to dig the carcass. Nothing's as squeaky clean as it seems on the surface. Never is."

"You're right. Because something tells me it's not the complete truth. There's a woman who claims to have been her best friend, who noted that Darina underwent more than just a massive image transformation. According to her, she had a complete makeover of her personality and traits as well, which was shocking to her. She said the Darina she knew had a stammer, which made her too shy to speak. She couldn't hold a conversation for more than a meeting, and barely spoke English and that too in a thick Russian accent."

"Stammering in general or occasional?"

"In general. It's kind of hard to believe how she could overcome it within the span of a couple of months. Not to mention her dyslexia."

"How on earth do you overcome dyslexia?"

"I have no clue."

"Get a clue. This should be your clue that it's not squeaky clean as you're made to believe," I hang up and immediately dial the attorney general. "Do we have any lead on the case?"

"How rude."

"Hello, love of my life. How are you doing? Are we okay? I missed you. Did you miss me?"

My attention drifts to Areston and I find him scowling at me. His fingers around mine clench into a death grip, making me gasp. Possessive jerk. I roll my eyes and show him my phone's screen with the Attorney General written on it. His glare doesn't waver, but I ignore him.

"Now will you please answer my question?"

"All of the above? Or the first one?"

"Just the first one. I want you to answer the rest when I'm visiting your dearest, and not to forget, heavily pregnant wife who I'm sure would be delighted to punch your face."

He laughs, "Well, not really. No significant progress. We're looking into it. It's tough. There's not a single person in the database that matches the name."

"Mmm. Hmm. Keep me posted if you do?" I end the call and whip a text message for Ben, my private investigator.

Check if Darina Ivanov had a twin. Need her birth records and everything from that time too.

It's a blind shot. But I can give it a try. I'm going to end Darina that's for sure, but if she happens to be this Ekaterina, the bitch will regret having been born.

I put my phone aside and turn to focus on the love of my life in the driving seat who's still engrossed in a conversation. This time it's Natasha on the other end of the speaker.

"... alright, so approve this. De L'Aquila Inc. in collaboration with Glacial is piloting technology to bring down the landfill waste and boost the utilization of recycled materials in packaging. As a part of our ongoing commitment to encourage young entrepreneurs and female-led startups in climate tech, De L'Aquila Inc.'s Climate Pledge Fund has invested in Glacial, an AI and robotics startup that helps recycle industry work in an effort to reduce waste in the world by using AI-powered robots for automating the sorting of recyclables and collecting real-time data on recycling streams for recycling consumer brands and companies," I listen to Natasha reading out a section from their press statement.

"Sounds good. I approve," he says, giving my fingers a little acknowledging squeeze. "Keep it simple. I don't want the additional fanfare."

"I need to jazz it up, Res. Stop being such a prissy. Bye," she mocks him and ends the call.

"What's worrying you?" He asks, surprising me with the question.

"What's worrying me? Nothing."

"What's your journalist looking into now?"

I forgot that he can observe and tell my mood by the change in my breathing pattern. And right now he didn't even need to observe because I have been quite predictable with my expressions.

"Darina."

There's no change in the calm facade of his face, but his eyes visibly harden, and he turns away to focus on the road ahead.

"I have an inkling that she's an imposter." I narrate the details of everything I know so far and about the Ekaterina figure.

His classic handsome face gives nothing away, but at one point of time when I tell him my guess that she's Ekaterina, the evil twin who perhaps replaced the real Darina, a muscle in his jaw ticked.

"Has she tried to connect with you since?" I ask, gently squeezing his fingers.

"Yes."

I barely repress my shudder as I turn to stare out of the tinted window. I cannot believe I am still jealous of that whore for the connection she once shared with my husband.

"I haven't returned any of her attempts to reconnect," he adds and I find myself exhaling a gasp I didn't know I was holding.

"Will you?"

"I have destroyed all ties."

"Professionally. She has held a quite profound place in your personal life whether you admit it or not until a couple of weeks ago. It cannot be destroyed so easily."

"Just like you won't be able to destroy your ties with Lev ever?"

That makes me clench my jaw so hard it'll break. My head whips in his direction and I find him composed without a hint of emotion betraying his stoic expression as he drives. "It has nothing to do with not being able to. I won't destroy my ties with Lev ever. He's my close friend... someone I know I can rely on."

"Your husband is the only one you should be relying on," he supplies with supreme cool and a hint of dark jealousy simmering in his tone.

"He is in love with Iva."

"I don't give a fuck. He's a man who fancied you." The car pulls to a stop in front of the Central Park entrance on 72nd Street and Fifth Avenue.

"You're being unreasonable, Areston."

"Unreasonable or not. I won't tolerate your friendship with that piece of filth. His father is a sick bastard and I have no reason to allow my wife to fraternize with the likes of him."

"Allow?"

"Yes. Allow." He shoots me a deadly stare that's capable of freezing anyone.

"You piss me off, your highness. I am going and I hope by the time I return home you'd have pondered on how ridiculous your demand is." I remove the seatbelt and try to open the door but realize he has centrally locked it. The jerk. "I need my energy to deal with the ladies at the charity luncheon. Do not ruin my mood then you have already."

"Come here."

"No."

"That wasn't a question," he hisses a low whisper, and tucks me out of my seat like a doll he thinks I am and settles me on his lap. "I don't trust him."

I realize fighting on this is not going to lead me anywhere. It'll only harden his resolve.

I cup his face, switching to the only method I know can remotely succeed in placeting him. "But I do and you have to trust me, baby. You vowed to treat me as your equal."

"It has nothing to do with this."

"It does," I brush my mouth against his as I caress his jaw with my fingers. "If you trust your instincts then as my better half, you have to believe and trust my instincts as well. Lev is a man who wouldn't hesitate to die for me and it has nothing to do with him fancying me or something. He's just that good a friend. If there's a man in my life I can trust blindly apart from you and Chase, it's him."

"No."

"No?"

"No. You cannot trust him. Not after finding out what his father turned out to be despite having been your family's close confidante."

"Has anyone told you that you're a tyrannical, repressive jerk?"

His thumb is gently tracing the outline of my lower lip, careful not to smudge my lipstick. "My wife just did. That label isn't going to make me change my mind either. Nothing would."

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Husband: I love you, my little ogre.

"Ugh, this oppressive jerk. I swear that North Korean piece of shit has got nothing in comparison to my husband's dictatorial capabilities." I drop my phone at the bathroom countertop so I can fix my hair.

Selene and I are in the restroom of the Central Park Boathouse for their annual summer New York City Women in Arts, Science, and Commerce Power Luncheon. It was my mistake thinking my husband would let go of me easily, especially after an argument in which we did not reach any settlement. Parked on the street in the middle of the broad daylight, my husband edged me by fingerfucking me to a point I almost climaxed in his lap, but didn't let me orgasm and left me high and dry as a punishment for arguing with him. Not even a proper kiss. Just a brush of his mouth on my forehead. He was smirking like the devil he's as I climbed off him and out of the car, walking away flipping him a bird.

"Still fixated on Lev, huh?" She asks, adjusting the bust of her dress.

"He's trying to be cute. It totally doesn't suit his dark and oppressive persona. One might think that beneath all that he has a human side that would be willing to listen to at least his wife's point of view, but no. The man is a pure demon through and through."

"The demon you married nonetheless," she laughs and I scowl at her reflection in the mirror. "That's the problem with all three of them. They want things their way and there is absolutely nothing you can do to change their minds. Ari is the typical eldest child of the family who feels compulsion to protect everything like a mother hen so occasionally he allows himself to be rational and opens up for perspectives of others. August, being the youngest, has always been the typical spoiled brat so he definitely doesn't feel the need to bother himself with what others think or feel. And let's just be honest, Areston has always had zero empathy or emotions for others to give a shit about their perspectives. If he was at a level 90 on a scale of 100 back then, now he's probably a billion. So, there's no surprise there."

"You're right. But I can never imagine Ari and Gus being in his league."

She snorts. "Grass is always green on the other side. But yes, Ari is still a human and capable of emotions. Gus is... something else. Something is seriously fucked up with the younger ones."

"Not August surely?"

"Please. He's a sociopath and narcissist. Not to mention a megalomaniac. He's equal parts or perhaps worse than Areston. Don't go on his perfectly social skills that make him look like he's approachable, which your husband completely lacks. The mischievous ones are often the most evil. The way he puts himself in the path of extreme danger with his expeditions and his lack of love for his life should convey pretty much."

"Why do men have to be so fucked up?" I grunt, retouching my lipstick.

"Because they're men. So, are you going to give up on Lev?"

"Hell, no. Areston will make peace with it even if that hurts him. I have always entertained his irrational demands but this is where I draw the line. I don't choose his friendships , he doesn't choose mine."

"Good. I mean I understand where he's coming from but he needs to chill. Just because you're married and he happens to be overly obsessed with your safety doesn't mean he can call shots and dictate you to end childhood friendship. That's so tyrannical and not to mention childish of him. The more you entertain his irrational behavior the more he'd try to get into your head."

"Beautiful event, ladies. Isn't it?" We're interrupted by Lianna's arrival. She smiles at me through the mirror.

"It was until you showed up." This bitch. I will never forget the night she was gloating being Areston's plus one and showing me off the pair of Vivier my jerk of a husband gave her to spite me. She was living her Cinderella story.

"I wanted to apologize to you for yesterday. I hope there's no bad blood between us."

"Yesterday?"

"I mean what happened to Areston at his place. I know it came out all wrong, but I was drunk and I didn't know what I was thinking."

She was at our home yesterday? Areston didn't tell me. Why? If I ask her what happened, I'd look like a fool so I try the other way.

"Your apology isn't enough, Lianna. Drunk or not. What you did cannot be excused," I turn around and cross my arms. "Why did you do it?"

"I was... I told you I was drunk. I felt jealous that he was my friend and he chose you over me. I am sure you understand how territorial we women can be. I am in my senses today so I am apologizing. His friendship means a lot to me. Please don't let my one mistake ruin it. You're the only one he listens to so I hope you can put in my apology in front of him since he clearly wouldn't talk to me or respond to my messages or calls either. Not that he ever did before."

I take a calculated step in her direction and she appears visibly flustered, taking a step back. "Listen to me carefully, Lianna. Etch it deep into your bones if you have to because this is the only time I am going to say it. Next time, I'll take action and you'll be in deep, deep trouble when I do it. Stay away from my man. I understand you and your mother have special fondness for him, but keep it to yourself."

Her mouth parts in a shock. "He's my friend," she says defensively.

"Consider your friendship ended, which I am sure is what Areston wants or he would be responding to your messages or calls. If you try to contact him again, I will end your career and not feel bad about it, Lianna Ivanov. No one would care how many Oscar nominations and wins you've got. They'll blacklist you if I ask them to do so and you know it's not an idle threat. Last time, I took your chance for the first Vogue US spread. This time, I'll take away your entire fame. Got it?"

"Surely, you can see how irrational your demand is?"

"Irrational or not, it is what it is." I now understand the thrill my husband gets from his irrational demands. Ugh. "Don't force me to ruin the career you've worked so hard for. Find yourself a man who can indulge you and stop buzzing like a fly around Areston desperate for his attention."

"Whoa! I got a glimpse of my old pumpkin for the first time in eleven long years. I felt like I'd gone back in time." Selene laughs as we walk out of the restroom. "What was she even talking about? What did she do?"

"I have zero clue. Judging from the kind of woman she is, I think she came home yesterday when I was at Bubbeh's and possibly tried to seduce him." I sigh, taking a seat at our assigned table on the dockside. "I wanted to scratch her face. That bitch. How dare she?"

"Areston didn't tell you?"

"He wouldn't tell me matters like this. It makes me so livid. Why does he have to treat me as if I am some fragile doll that can't handle matters like this?"

"Beats me," she sighs, smiling at the waitress who appears with our pre-ordered drinks. A dirty martini with five olives for me and a non-alcoholic Manhattan Sunset for her. "Perhaps for the reason that he doesn't want you to be upset on trivial matters like this."

"Yeah, I know. But I hate it."

"I know," she gives my hand a soft squeeze. "Forget about that bitch. Don't sour your mood over her."

My phone vibrates from a text notification. Of course it's my jerk of a husband.

Husband: Are you keeping your husband on read?

Husband: Perhaps I should embrace my so-called caveman spirits as you label it. I'll come over, sling you over my shoulder, and take you home.

"Is it him?" Selene asks with a chuckle.

"Yeah. He's being a prick that he is."

Me: Don't tempt me to block you.

Husband: Go ahead and block me. Nothing will stop me from caging you and keeping you in front of me all the time. There would be no more need for me to call or text you then.

This is not an idle warning. I know he's well and truly capable of doing it. Somehow as sick and twisted as his threat is, I can't help but the dull throbbing between my thighs grow with need as I imagine it. I swallow hard.

Husband: The idea turns you on. My cock is hard too.

Me: I hate you.

Husband: Say you love me or I am coming there to pick you up.

Me: Don't bully me.

Husband: Belle...

Me: Bubbeh is here. Surely you wouldn't want to make a scene in front of her? Considering you're her favorite grandson-in-law?"

Husband: Her ONLY grandson-in-law. Trust me, she'd be only too delighted to have me taking you away. Want to put the theory to test?

Me: Stop bothering me.

Husband: Say you love me.

Me: You're a jerk but I love you.

Husband: You're adorable when you're mad. Like those kittens you love.

Me: I can scratch you like those kittens I love.

Husband: My back, chest, shoulder, and arms are already carrying so many scratches as badges of honor, tesoro. I'll never say no to that.

Me: I'll scratch your handsome face.

Husband: That's okay. You're the only one who has to love it so if you're okay with a scratched face, I have no problem.

Me: Don't be cute. I am mad at you.

Husband: I love you, wife. As always, you light up my day. Drink in limits. Nothing more than two martinis.

"Sometimes I want to punch him for being a controlling jerk," I murmur, putting my phone away. Selene is busy and smiling as she types on her own phone.

"Feelings are mutual," she says, showing me the latest text from her husband.

Sorcerer: I am loaded with work, but I won't mind loading you with my cum if you leave that charade and come home.

"Ew!" I burst into a peal of laughter, attracting attention from tables around. "What's with these brothers coming up with such cringe?"

"This is the tip of an iceberg," she smirks, typing a quick reply, and pushing her phone in her Birkin.

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"Question, your royal highness and future royal highness. What do I have to do to make someone interested in me?" Lysandra joins us on our table.

She looks like cotton candy or bubble gum, whichever is the pinkest, in her usual choice of head-to-toe classy and elegant, but an explosion of pink color. Her gloss, her straight cut knee length from what I recognize as the latest season Dior number, her Manolo Blahniks, her Dior sling, her French-manicured tips, and the diamonds in her earrings are all pink. Like always, she's carrying multiple things in her hands. A strawberry sorbet and a plate of strawberry shortcake in one hand and a glass of rosé in another. I will never understand how she manages it all with such perfection.

"Depends on who the someone is," Selene exchanges a knowing look with me as she leans forward, her interest piqued as always for the gossip.

"No one at the moment. I want a boyfriend. I am living in THE city that gave birth to the iconic Sex and the City, and yet I have no boyfriend. For the first time in my life, I am free. I want to savor this sense of freedom. Back in London, I tried making boyfriends five times, but they'd all ghost me—typically after we'd had our first kiss. They were all really perfect or at least I thought so. Prince August never shared my opinion from the start and he stood correct every time. They were such dummies."

Now, my interest piques as well. I lean forward with my elbows on the table and fingers crossed beneath my chin. "August knew about your boyfriends?"

Selene's gaze glints with a mixture of mischief and amusement as her mouth parts in a knowing grin, realizing the direction my thoughts are headed to. We're sisters for a reason.

"Of course. When he caught me almost kissing a friend on my 16th birthday, he kind of threw him out. He told me that I'll have to get my boyfriends vetted by him so my heart doesn't get broken like Inessa's songs about heartbreaks. Never approved any one of them, but at least he didn't force them to ghost me like my father made them."

"Ah."

"Interesting." Selene and I hum in unison.

"Strange, isn't it? My father is controlling like that. Last month, I met this handsome Wall Street banker on Tinder. He just vanished after a perfect date night. I met a couple more before him, and all of them have evaporated into thin air and ghosted me following our perfect dates. He's still controlling me from across the pond. Can you believe it? I want a boyfriend who has the spine to stand up to my zookeeper and not feel threatened. I apologize for the super long rant, but you understand my frustration."

August is a sneaky bastard. What a creep. "We do understand. So, is there a man you're interested in?"

"I am interested in everyone and anyone. The question is. How do I hold their interest enough to not ghost me?"

"Depends on the age range you're focusing on." Selene says. I purse my lips from smiling. "Men like Ari, Gus, and Ares... you know the typical 30 and above age range have spine. The one below? Perhaps not so much. Isn't it, pumpkin?" My best friend whips up complete bullshit to tease the poor creature.

I shoot her a playful glare before turning to Lysandra. "Why do you want to make someone interested in you, Lys? The right one will just find you."

"Except he hasn't until now. You're missing that part, which is why she's asking for our expert advice, pumpkin."

"She's right," Lysandra defends Selene with a grin. "So, what do I do?"

"You do nothing," I raise my glass to my mouth for a sip as I speak. "The one who meant for you will come along and no force on earth, not even your father or any one else for that matter would be able to make him cower from making you his. Areston and I spent 11 years apart and then we found each other because we were meant to. Sel and Ari crossed their paths in a way neither of them would have ever imagined and now they're married. You'll find yours when it's the time and not a minute before. I am a firm believer of destiny so that's all I have to say."

"I know destiny will bring you to me, baby. Our souls are tethered forever and it's just the matter of time before you come and claim me as yours..." Lysandra hums a cult-favorite Inessa Langford song in agreement. The woman has the energy of Barbie on crack. I love that about her. It's motivating of sorts. "Which reminds me, Inessa's world tour kicks off at the MetLife Stadium tomorrow. Are you guys going?"

"Krys is her biggest fan so Ari is taking her. I won't go. A 100K crowd would suffocate me to death. Thanks to my pregnancy hormones," Selene says, ordering another glass of her Manhattan Sunset.

"I want to. I love her, but I am not certain if Areston would be up for grooving to those songs about young love, heartbreaks, and ex-boyfriends," I laugh. "He already rolled his eyes when her PR team delivered the VIP passes. Can you do something?" I ask Selene.

"Like what?"

"Convince your husband to drag his brothers along?"

"Ew. Fine. Didn't he say he'll do anything to make you happy?"

"That comes with conditions. Like it doesn't apply when he's being a jerk or has to join me for a morning jog or any other crowded place for that matter." And that deeply terrifies me at times for reasons I better not think out loud because as long as I won't openly admit it, it wouldn't bother me.

"Is his royal highness hermit-like?" Lysandra asks.

"It depends on his mood really. He hates the public and conversations but can bear it when it suits his goals. He never used to attend society galas. Now he occasionally does because his overly possessive tendencies cannot leave me alone."

Lsyandra sighs dreamily. "That's the kind of love I want. I so desperately want to go to the concert, but Prince August won't allow me. He would be mad if he finds out I'm unavailable if he needs something and I'm not there."

I gasp horrified, almost prepared to inform some employee abuse committee. "It's Saturday tomorrow and he has other assistants."

"I am a peasant and no other assistants work on weekends except me. I have no weekends. He can call me whenever he wants. He'll do it tomorrow as well. Even when he'll be busy with those four supermodels humming around him like a swarm of bees just like every other night," she grimaces. "Sometimes I want to move out of his penthouse, but then I'll have no place to go to."

"He entertains them while you're under his roof?" Selene looks just as horrified as I am.

"No no. He never entertains anyone at our... his penthouse. At least not since he forced me to move in with him the day I arrived in the city. Actually, he's never home. He barely comes so it's like I always have the place to myself except his rare occurrences. He's at his other place I suppose. I am just saying I wish to move out because I feel like I am keeping him from enjoying his own home."

"You know what? Let's go have fun at the concert together. I'll see how he denies me your company."

"Really?" Her eyes light up.

"Of course."

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"The public and media response has gone past explosive. It's much more on the scale. Social media is on fire. All the metrics off the charts. The branded hashtag linked to our coverage is trending #1 on all platforms globally. Celebrities and influencers are coming forward to echo their story and calling for a system overhaul. Major networks have also started picking up the story and amplying both The American Observer and Rothschild News Network's reach. The global interest is burgeoning, given Nikolai's international cases." The head of PR notes. "They are organizing major rallies and marches in major cities. This might as well be a catalyst for a bigger version of MeToo."

"More victims are coming forward. Looks like our coverage of Nikolai's crimes might just be the start of a much larger reckoning." Vicky adds with an enthusiasm like never before. The last time she was this ecstatic was when her feature won an Emmy.

"Great! I am so glad we're giving a voice to the ones who have been forced to remain silent for so long and holding a filth like Nikolai accountable. You guys have done a brilliant job," I applaud my team with claps and all of the 17 people in my office follow.

"We are exploring two angles for more followup main stories. RNN will be doing the exclusive coverage for the network of Nikolai's enablers... those in his circle who helped him and are still helping him hide. And the editorial board for The American Observer will be writing an editorial on institutional failure of how our system was bypassed and corrupted to grow Nikolai's power and the sexual abuse. We are prepared for a potential hike in whistleblower submissions that could lead to more stories." The chief of editorial staff briefs, munching on her granola bar.

I remove my Manolos and rise off the chair to pace around so I can digest the two sorbets and a cheesecake I've had at the luncheon. "Great development. Jaz, I need the HR team to work on providing our team involved in Nikolai's coverage extra psychological support. This shit can be triggering."

"Rohan is on your way up for your 6 PM, Juliette," Shukura announces through the speakerphone.

"Yep. Thanks, team. I'll reconnect with you next Friday to check on the momentum. Hit me up on Slack if there's anything you need in between. You know I've got you."

"Great tan, Rothschild," Rohan greets me with a small tray carrying two lattes and two small boxes in it.

"Oh my goodness, Ro!" I fling my arms around him in a hug, careful not to let his tray fall. "I missed you. Looks like Bali was amazing! Your tan is better than mine."

"That's because I'm Indian with an inbuilt light tan that has only multiplied," he chuckles. "Congratulations on the new acquisition of Velours Rouge. Carlyle is so happy he brought this for our meeting from its Fifth Ave outlet and guess what? The combinations of these lattes are predicted by an AI app prototype and it's already so accurate. Good job."

"I know! I was mind blown too. My husband... to be is a genius, isn't he?"

"Husband to be huh?"

I show him my engagement and wedding rings.

"Magnificent! But two?"

"He didn't want the wedding ring finger bare so added it." I am getting really smooth at lying. Not an accomplishment, I silently wince. "C'mon, sit. Give me my latte and then we can get down to business. As predicted United Media has come out and suggested a poison pill. They're desperate and now I'll enjoy dismantling them piece by piece for not having taken my nice offer. Turns out, Nikolai didn't want them to and now they'll suffer the consequences of wrong allegiance."

He nods, adjusting his tie and stretching back. "We'll have to initiate a proxy fight. Are stakeholders prepared for this aggressive take?"

"They need to be compliant. Ready or not doesn't matter to me. I have set the stage over the past few weeks and now they need to follow the lead. We have to win this without any collateral damage, Ro."

"We will. It'll be messy but we will. Public sentiment might not be rational, though. Taking over the only media house that can be remotely considered our competition could look aggressive. A fraction already thinks The Rothschild Media controls the global media and after this that perception would only strengthen."

I grin, dropping the lid on the table and blowing the surface of my latte as I pace beside the table. "One thing they're right about is that we do own the global media which gives us the leverage to control the narrative. I'll spin the proxy battle in a way it'll drown out any dissent, don't worry about them. The PR team is prepared. Besides, the Nikolai expose will play in our favor. Everyone knows United Media has been asslicking Nikolai Christakis for decades and promoting him as a savior for all the favors he has done for them."

"Good. I've already prepared a list of their weakest links and board members. We need to exploit every crack in their system so we can launch a full-frontal assault on that son of a bitch to corner and crush him." Rohan fires up his phone. "What's our timeline?"

"We can initiate proxy solicitation in two weeks. I'll oversee the drafting of this proposal to shareholders. You keep an eye on every movement they make. They'll be willing to take any defensive measure at this point."

Husband: Still in love with me?

I am walking into the private elevator accompanied by Shukura, busy on a call with one of her assistants when my own phone's screen lights up with a text from my husband. I can't help but smile like a lovesick idiot to myself. He has never been one for texting, just like he isn't for chatting or having conversations with people— he abhors the texting culture and the very invention for it and thinks it's a complete waste of time. His indifference towards everyone and deliberate insulation from the banalities of forming human connection is almost pathological. However, he does it anyway, just to make me happy. He's so obsessed with me that he goes miles to flip the universe upside down so he can bind himself in every aspect of my life.

Me: Maybe...

Husband: That won't work, baby.

Me: I am supposed to be angry.

I haven't mentioned him about my encounter with Lianna. As I said to Selene, she's pretty much non-existent for me and I am certain he feels the same about his so-called friend.

Husband: But you're not. You love me.

Me: I love you. Even when you annoy me so much.

Husband: Said like a typical wife.

Me: How many have you had to know that?

Husband: I educate myself by reading things... for you.

I laugh. For a man who lacks emotional regard for anyone else that makes him alarmingly border the characteristics of a sociopath, I love this twisted form of devotion. It is highly unnerving to another eye, a red flag, and what one should expect from a stalker not a husband, as Claire often jokes, but I love how he studies my likes and dislikes with a clinical efficiency and intensity as if I am his human experiment. The idea of being the center of his world is a powerful aphrodisiac for me. I know I call him a psychopath and he is to a dangerous degree, but his fiercely loyal heart beats only for me and I thrive on the knowledge.

Me: GASP have you actually been reading the Cosmo articles on successful marriage and those funny marriage tweets?

Husband: I read everything you send me, wife.

Me: I send it to annoy you.

Husband: Motivation doesn't matter.

Me: You make it impossible for me to be mad at you.

Husband: Always my motivation, baby. Tell me you love me.

Me: My existence is a sheer waste if it's not spent being utterly, irrevocably in love with you, your highness. You're the reason I breathe.

Me: I am still mad at you.

I look up from the phone as I stroll out of the balustrade and my insides squeeze. Millions of tiny darts of longing pierce my body as I watch him as he shoves his phone in his pocket. There he is, the dark-suited figure of Mr. Testosterone-On-Legs, leaning against his shiny McLaren F1 with his legs crossed at ankles and rippling muscles outline the biceps of his crossed arms. There has never been a time when this man doesn't look good. He's a God's masterpiece with a lethal mix of Greek and Roman god looks and strength. And he's mine. Utterly mine. There's the usual absence of expression on his unsmiling face, but I don't need to see the literal curving of his lips to see his smile. It's in those sapphire gaze that have held me bound in spell from ages. His eyes have lit up as they've met mine.

Unbothered by the prospect of PDA, I run in his direction and leap at him, knowing he'll welcome me in his arms with just as equal need as I have to share his warmth. "You're here. I missed you."

He plants his lips on mine, branding me in a way that makes my skin tingle all over and blood rush. I surrender a sweet sob in the heady delight of the kiss. I don't care if we're caught romancing on the curb like this, me clinging to him like an anchor in a turbulent sea, absolutely necessary for my survival. The need I have for this man is as intense, desperate, and unceasing as a parched human trapped in the middle of a desert with no water for days. The feeling is mutual. The ferocity of his dizzying kiss says so.

He cradles the back of my head with one hand and my waist tightly against him with another. "Thought my wife was mad at me?"

"This has nothing to do with that," I grin against his mouth with my fingers in the back of his hair. "I am buttering you up so you'd let me use your body which you signed as mine the day you married me."

"No need to butter it up, tesoro. Just use it anytime you'd like. We're here to serve and please her royal highness."

"You don't think about the pleasing part when you're being an irrational, stubborn-headed jerk."

"No, I don't," he tosses arrogantly, looking so smug as he bites my lower lip before opening the passenger side of the door. "Hungry?"

"See. Pathetic. Yes, I am hungry. Can you take me to Nonna's?"

My husband winces as he settles in the driver's seat. He has no problem expressing his dislikes so strongly, but for the rest, he has to remain stoic and so closed off that I cannot even try to fathom what's going inside his head even if I spend my entire lifetime trying to work on it as a sole agenda.

Taking my hand, he brings to his mouth and parts his lips to suck my knuckles, making the heat pool between my thighs. "Can we not retire at home in peace tonight and have a home cooked meal by Gabe?"

I pout. "I gave him the night off this morning because I wanted to take you to Nonna's. She's an important part of my life and we haven't introduced you to her yet. We can go home if you want a home cooked meal but I am not cooking and I'm not bothering Gabe to whip us some dinner. You'll have to cook."

That makes his lips twitch. He places his hand against his chest and keeps it there as he fires up the engine. "I don't mind cooking, but let's go see your nonna. I want to be a part of every aspect of your life."

There it is... his obsession to seep into my every pore so there's no part of me bereft from his reach.

"Shouldn't be surprised at how profoundly I'm obsessed with you, wife," he intones, his calculatedly seductive husk, a chilling concoction of his sinister glee and amused declaration makes my heart race.

My breath flutters like a trapped butterfly in my throat. I am utterly flabbergasted that despite his attention being fixed on the road as he drives, he is precise with his observation of what's going on in my mind. This isn't something that has happened the first time. However, every time it happens, the precision with which he crawls into mind and reads my thoughts with zero effort astounds me just as it did the very first time. This man is undoubtedly God's favorite regardless of not having a single religious bone... or human bone for that matter in his body. My husband is in a league of his own—a demi-god. My faith in that thought affirms every day. Every second. And it's downright unjust to the rest of the human kind for him to possess such a level of sharp, and almost superhuman, observation.

"I could meld your existence into my very skin and make us inseparable if that were a possibility, baby," he declares, his deceptively soft voice low and serious.

The intensity of his raw, straightforward declaration stirs a strange sense of excitement in me, pushing goosebumps all over me and at the same time chills me to the core. The grip of his fingers on my hand he's holding against his chest as he drives grows tighter to physically echo the extremity of his obsession, inescapable and binding.

I take a shuddering gasp, swallowing its intensity I feel seeping in the depth of my bones. "This... it's way past all the red flags and sirens, your highness. It's code black. Catastrophic. So... immoral and perverse."

"As immoral and perverse as it may be, it's the truth."

"And I wouldn't have it any other way, which makes me realize I'm perhaps a code black myself."

The corner of his mouth twitches in a smirk, his darkened gaze lands on me. "As it should. You're the Tsunami to my destruction." 

How was the chapter? 

Your favorite part? 

Which one's your favorite spin-off couple already? Chase, August, or Zayd?