"We have been sitting here for an hour. What the fuck are we doing here?" Zayd hisses at me, blowing the surface of his second cup of coffee.

"Brainstorming on how we can catch Fletcher and Nikolai," I mutter distractedly, looking around the coffee shop.

He had just returned from London and showed up in my office when I decided to drag him along to Sea Cliff village in Long Island.

"We already discussed it on our way here, fucker. Nikolai has gone sunk in some rabbit hole following his exposé done by The Rothschild News Network and The American Observer. Several women have come forward with claims of sexual harassment since which has strengthened the case against him. So, it's going to take some time for him to track him, and the same goes for Fletcher."

It pisses me off that even after having deployed the world's finest intelligence agencies and our own teams, we're unable to catch the two bastards.

I lower my own coffee cup and exhale heavily. "We need to think harder."

I'm killing time, waiting for the girl Calliope—my mother... Althea's precious little project.  It's the middle of the work day and I have heli-hopped to a village where she lives and runs her cafe when she's not out for her modeling projects, which happens to be a lot according to the background information I received on her. Horace convinced me that I should meet her because she's the only link to the woman who raised me. I don't agree to any of that bullshit. I am here solely because Horace's efforts intrigued me enough to see the person that woman replaced me with once she got rid of me.

The anarchist in me wants to destroy what is most likely a fake relationship that she has built with the girl for some twisted selfish reasons just like she did to me for 19 years. I wouldn't do that, though. Simply because it's none of my business. The only business I have to be here is to see the woman who adopted her. While I have long decided that I want nothing to do with her, I want to see her. One last time. I'm hoping she'd show up here at this cafe with her adopted daughter today. I know she has returned for a month-long trip to the states. Probably to spend time with the girl and show her that she cares and is the best mother she would have wished for.

"No, we don't. We'll let our team take care of it on our behalf. Now, why don't you solve a problem of mine while we're here?"

I am tapping my index finger against the hot cup, continuing to look around. "Shoot."

"This girl I like... it has been a year since I kind of distanced myself from her. I tried to connect with about 26 days ago but she blocked me..."

That fetches my attention. "Blocked you?"

"Don't look so pleased, fucker. Yes. She blocked me. Her assistant thwarted all three of my attempts to connect with her. I think I mentioned this before?"

"I don't consider you important enough to remember all the bullshit you spout. Blocked where? Social media?"

"You know I don't use any form of social media, bastard," he huffs. "Phone. She blocked me on her phone."

"Can't help there," I run my fingers in my hair. "I am married and still blocked on Belle's phone."

"The fuck?" He laughs.

"We communicate using the phone I've given her. She'd blocked me months ago when I was chasing her and she felt annoyed. Hasn't unblocked me since."

"You deserve that. What should I do?"

"I don't know."

"Some advice?"

"Wrong person to ask advice for. Do you feel for her what I feel for my Belle?"

"You mean love? That's what it's called, fucker. Love. And I don't know if I feel that." He sags back into his chair. "I just know that it has been a year and I tried but I have been unable to get over her. I feel like an idiot to have let her go. I messed up real bad. I haven't had sex since."

That's surprising. "You haven't had sex in a year?"

"I don't feel like having it with the girls I have dated since. Somehow I just end up comparing them with her," he shrugs.

"That's serious."

"Yep."

"Hey Cali!" The crowd of six patrons cheerfully greets a girl entering the small cafe and suddenly the dull atmosphere turns vibrant.

Before her arrival, they'd been barely chatting and were busy reading books, but now they've all scurried where she stands behind the counter and are animatedly engaged in conversation with her. She is communicating via sign language and typing on her Mac, which displays on the customer-facing screen of the iPad. Horace did mention she's a selective mute from the age of 10.

"Is she the reason why we're here?" Zayd asks, puzzled. "What is going on? Do you fancy her or something?"

I close my eyes to restrain my urge to punch his face and turn my head to face him. "She's..."

"She is?"

"Calliope Grosvenor."

What I've seen in the pictures of her and what I am seeing now is a stark contrast. It's unbelievable. There's no hint of the supermodel the world knows. She's wearing an oversized Gap hoodie over a pair of shorts with her hair messily tied on the back. Just like my wife. Thick and oversized black-colored prescription glasses of square shape cover her eyes. She owns this Cali's Cliffside Cafe where she hangs out and helps run when she's not busy on assignments.

"Someone I should know?"

"She's one of the top 10 global supermodels. You love dating them."

"She's what?" His mouth falls open and he turns to take a look at her. "Can't imagine her being one unless I consider her height and her figure. See, this is what I am talking about. I haven't found a girl who has caught my attention since my French goddess. I am fucked."

"She's employed by Verve Models. Your subsidiary."

"Oh? Well, in my defense, I don't run it. My cousin does. It's just under my umbrella. But it doesn't answer my question. Why are you gawking at that firefly like a creep?"

He's so annoying he's frying my nerves and I am regretting dragging this fucker here for a company. "Firefly?"

"I don't know. The village Belle has a light like quality that's captivating from the minute you see her. Don't ask me why. Aren't you supposed to be happily married to the love of your life? Your precious Belle?"

"She's my mother... Althea's adopted daughter."

"Oh." The frown on his forehead eases. "You found your mother at last?" He deliberately uses the word mother. He knows that even I keep correcting myself from using that because she's not my mother.

I want to correct him that she's not my mother but I don't. "Yeah. Calliope is..." I turn to see her still involved in an animated chatter with the patrons. "She's David's daughter. Althea adopted her a year after she tossed me out of her life. The girl was 13."

His phone starts vibrating and he answers it. "Listen, I have to go. That girl," he points towards Calliope. "She's your baby sister or cousin. Whatever you wish to consider. You want to connect with Althea even if you don't admit it. Do it, man. Find her. Confront her face-to-face and pour all your rage in front of her so you can finally move on from the past. Whatever she did, she's still the mother who raised you and I do think you either need closure or a fresh start. Whichever works on the basis of what the conversation holds for you. Do it. I'll connect with you later."

"We have been here for the past two hours, your royal highness." Horace reminds me sometime later. My attention has been hooked to the screen of my Mac as I read a report sent by the ecommerce division.

"I am well aware."

"How long do you intend to sit here for? It has been an hour since she arrived and you have had three coffee refills since."

"I am working."

"You need to talk to your sister, sir." He deliberately uses the word 'sister' not 'cousin'.

I turn my head to the counter and find her bobbing her head to apparently some song she's listening on her wired earphones while serving a few customers. All of them seem to know her personally. I suppose I understand why they would. The village barely has a population of 5,000 people living here and this is the only cafe. Her attention zeroes upon me and her mouth parts in a wider smile than the one she's already wearing. She says something to the customer she's serving with her eyes on me and I avert my attention to focus on my Mac.

"That wasn't weird at all, your royal highness," Horace is barely restraining the mockery in his tone.

"What the fuck do you want me to do?" I ask, grittingly. "I don't know if I want to talk to her. You forced me to come here."

"I'll be outside in the car. Ms. Grosvenor is on her way here," he says silently and leaves.

The girl... Calliope halts at my table and places a cup and saucer in front of me. Not coffee. I don't know what it is. I am unaware that I am frowning at the drink when she points out.

"Don't frown. It's an affogato. May I?" She signs and points at the chair in front of me on the small table with red and white checkered cloth.

I give her a small, wordless nod. This close, when I look at her, I realize her eyes share a striking resemblance with my wife's. I have seen a lot of emerald eyes but never someone that has the ones like my wife. Until now.  What a coincidence.

"It's an Italian dessert.  Affogato al caffè. A scoop of vanilla gelato with decaf hot espresso."

"Not a fan of desserts."

"You don't need to sign," she smiles, signing. "Eat it even if you don't like it. Please. It's not on the menu but I made it for you. I saw that you've had three coffees already and it's not healthy. It gives you acid reflux. At least that's what my mom says. Though I wouldn't know. Never tried coffee in my life."

"Never?"

"Never," she holds her hand up, asking me to pause, and starts typing on her phone before showing it to me. "I wanted to be a ballerina so I followed a strict diet since I was a kid. But I gave up on it when I encountered a stress fracture in the metatarsals at the age of 15. With that dream gone up in the wind, I had only one dream... a backup dream of sorts left with me. To become a model. I am a model, by the way. I run this place. So, becoming a model also needed me to follow a strict diet which prohibited caffeine. Mama said caffeine interferes with sleep cycles and I couldn't afford waking up with dark circles under my eyes as a model. I am sure many don't mind, but I do. I like doing things perfectly. And now I realize I am yapping just to convince you to not drink another coffee and try this affogato instead. I could be a professional yapper. Please try it."

I inhale deeply as I lower my gaze to the affogato. Never have I felt so persuaded to try a dessert. Except when it comes to my wife's persuasion powers, but she's the exception to all my rules. I am not used to blabbering or as she noted yapping women either until my wife. With those submissives I've never had to bother being communicative. Janine, Natasha, Darina, and Lianna–four women I have been closely acquainted with cannot be qualified as overly chatty ones. My wife is again an exception. She can go on blabbering or yapping and never get tired. However, I've noticed I'm the only one she does it with. Not even her best friends or family. She can be the complete unguarded version of herself only in front of me and I love that about her.

"All right." I dip my spoon in the nauseating looking dessert and slip a small portion in my mouth.

"How's it?" She signs before it has even gone down my throat.

Too sweet. "Not bad." Why am I lying to make her feel better?

"See? I told you you'd like it. Eat. Finish it off, please. I'll add it to the menu for every off-season when I'm home so I can prepare it for my folks. They'd love it."

"Yep." I find myself eating another spoonful of the extremely sweet dessert without my will.

"You don't speak much, do you?" She muses.

"Not if I can help it."

"Makes sense. You wouldn't be a multibillionaire mogul running the world if you spent your time yapping like us mere mortals."

I carve a brow in surprise at her knowledge of me. Although it shouldn't be.

She rolls her eyes. "Of course I know you. Who doesn't? Unless they're living in a burrow. I also know why you're here."

That catches me off guard, but I maintain my composure. "Do you?"

"Your fiancée pulled out the big guns and sent you to convince me to be a part of her grandmother's annual summer ball, isn't it? They're raising money for cancer patients by offering the highest bidders an hour-long dinner date with the models they win."

I had no idea Belle knew her. She didn't mention when I spoke to her about Calliope last night. That little minx. I chuckle mentally.

She types on her phone. "I've got to say. I love how tenacious Juliette Rothschild is. I was kidding when I told her I'd only participate if she sends you to convince me. You see, I am a huge fan of the coding camps your foundation runs to empower children by teaching them coding skills. I love coding myself and I started a small organization two years back to teach coding skills to young women and non-binary individuals. We have launched two summer coding camps since and have provided over 50 scholarships in three states. I wanted your help to help me grow it. If you'd be willing to support the cause of course. I'd assured her I have no interest in you whatsoever. I mean not that you're not handsome. You're every girl's dream material, but not for me. You're like my..."

I regard her with amusement. "I am like your...?"

She knows. I don't need her words to confirm it. She knows who I am to her mother. However, I can't tell whether she knows everything about our past. "You seem like someone who could be my brother."

"Do I?"

She gives me a knowing smile. "Yes."

"I'll help your organization."

"You will?"

"Yeah."

Her smile grows as she rises up. "My coding geniuses and I will be eternally grateful, sir. Finish off the affogato, will you? I'll give Juliette a call and confirm my participation. Don't get me wrong. I want to help cancer patients but the reason I didn't want to participate is because while I may look mature as my generation does, I am only 23 unlike the rest of the models who'd be participating. The idea of going on dates with some strange rich man gave me creeps. Still does, but I'll do it in exchange for your support of my generous cause. Thank you. Oh, this affogato is on the house. To celebrate our first-ever meeting." With one last, bright smile, she leaves.

"Wait!"

She turns. "Yeah?"

I lean back in the chair. "You don't need to participate in the ball. The whole concept is creepy. I'll help you regardless."

"No. I want to do it. It's all right. I want to help cancer patients."

"It's not alright. You're only 23. If you want to help them, there are thousands of charities for you to give money to. Or sponsor a patient directly as per your capacity instead of participating in that auction or whatever it is."

'We'll see about that. Although, it could be a good idea if the guy who was accompanying you an hour ago participates and bids on me. He's kind of hot. Made the proverbial chill run down my spine if you must know," she laughs and heads behind the counter before disappearing into the kitchen.

Zayd? No fucking way.

♚♠️❤️♠️♚

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen," Gus drawls, sauntering inside my office eating something from the bowl in his hand.

His eyes are on the muted TV screen with RNN's news anchor doing coverage on the constantly dropping stock prices of Nikolai's company and shaken investor confidence.

"Don't bring food into my office. How many times do I have to tell you that?"

"I don't see you complaining when Kryslian eats here."

"She's a kid."

"You don't complain when your wife brings you lunch here for those mini dates," he supplies coolly, settling in the chair in front of me. "Try it. It's the best banana split sundae you've ever eaten."

I am still on the affogato high from the past two hours. "Keep it away from me. Where did you send your poor assistant this time to fetch it?" I ask, returning to my Mac's screen.

"Fluffy McCloud. Echo Park."

"California?"

"Is there any other?"

I shake my head in disbelief. "How long do you intend to torture Lady Lyssandra like that? Does her father know?"

"He does and until she agrees to return to London."

"Chase mentioned she won't. Even if she dies on the job. She'll consider herself a martyr," Ari says, walking in.

"What does that fucker know?"

"Apparently more than you?" He chuckles, removing his jacket and hanging it behind his chair. "Chase is the only friend your trouble has in the city."

"One of these days I'm going to kill that bastard. I don't give a fuck he's your brother-in-law," Gus swears under his breath, punching the spoon too hard in his sundae and putting it away from him on my desk.

"You take that fucking bowl of my desk or I'll dump it on your head."

He bangs his fist against my desk. "Why the fuck is your brother-in-law such a meddlesome asshole?"

Ari laughs. "For the same reason you keep meddling into his deal with Inessa?"

"Can the two of you stop gossiping like highschool girls and focus on the agenda here?" I interrupt their banter when my phone vibrates with a text notification from my wife.

Wife: I want you to worship my vagina while your cock is in my mouth. I know you're no sex expert so I'll tell you what it is. 69! It's a sex position.

PS: I'd send an image attachment to explain more but I don't want you seeing any other naked woman except your wife. I'll guide you when we're home tonight.

PPS: I love you.

Reading her demand causes laughter to bubble out of me. On my way from Sea Cliff, she called me to check how my meeting went. Apparently, she's the one who had convinced Horace to force me to see Calliope. She couldn't come see me herself to check on me because she's stuck with her grandmother in Meadow Lane so she has been texting me every half an hour, sending me flowers with cute cards with computer-printed messages on it. This woman. I fucking love her.

Me: I am glad I married a sex expert wife. What would I have done with you, baby?

PS: As always you make my life better.

PPS: I love you.

"What the fuck are you smiling at? It's nauseating." Gus questions.

"None of your business and take the damn bowl away from my desk," I scowl at him. "Now, can we focus on the  matter at hand?"

"Yes," Ari leans forward with sincerity. "Let's start with what's making my always unsmiling little brother smile like that."

♚♠️❤️♠️♚

I am walking out of the gym, wiping the sweat off my chest when Horace appears. "Ms. Ivanov is on her way up."

"Darina?"

"Ms. Lianna."

I shake my head. "I have to go pick up my wife. Ask Lianna to give me a call for whatever it is that she wants to discuss."

"She stressed it's urgent."

Lianna furiously launches herself. "Why did you do this? Do you have any idea how shattered my mother is?" She slams a file against my chest.

I want my board seat in Ivanov Foundation transferred to Janine and my shares in Ivanov Global to be gifted to Lianna and Janine. Distribute it equally amongst both the sisters.

"Your lawyers delivered these papers and it has devastated my mother. What was the need?"

"You have no reason to involve yourself in her business."

"She is my mother, dammit! I have every reason to involve myself." She places her palms against my chest to push me but fails. I catch the waft of her perfume which is stronger than the softer one of Belle I'm used to. "This is how you treat your close friend? Dump her like a piece of trash just because the woman you're in love with can't stand her?"

Settling the towel hanging from the back of my neck, I politely grab her wrists and lower it. "I value our friendship so I'm letting this time pass but if you dare make a scene in defense of your mother like this ever again, I won't let it pass, Lia. Now leave."

She hugs me from behind when I turn to walk away from her. "Why did it have to be Juliette? What is it that she has and I don't?"

I tighten my jaw, withdrawing her hands from me. "Don't push me to subject you to the same treatment as your mother."

She's not Lianna if she's not adamant. She plasters herself against me again. "I don't care. Why couldn't it have been me? She's not the one for you, Res. If she can do it once, she can do it again. You know it. Mother said you don't trust Juliette not to leave you again because you know she's a self-centered woman who'll always choose herself. I'll never do that. I'll never choose anyone over you. I'll worship the ground you walk on and never treat you like that whore treats you."

Murderous thoughts fill me. I want to fucking end Darina right in this moment.

I turn, and gripping her arms rather too forcefully, I push her on the couch, pinning her against it. "Your mother fed you all that and failed to feed you the most important thing about me, Lianna. A thing the people I regard as my friends aren't supposed to know, but I'll make an exception and tell you. Do you know what your mother proudly labeled me? A monster. A bloodthirsty villain. Do you know why?" I say with an utter calm that can put a monk's own to shame.

For the first time since I've known her, I see fear in her eyes as I hover above her. "Because that's who you are."

"Yes. That's who I am and you'll do well to remember that henceforth. I destroy people in the blink of an eye, Lianna, and I wouldn't hesitate once inflicting the same treatment upon you if I have to. I don't have many friends so if I consider you one, respect it and stay in your lane. And if I ever hear you calling my wife a whore, it'll be the end of your career you take so much pride in. Do you understand?"

Her lower lip is shivering, her eyes wide, and her breath is fluttering like a butterfly in her throat. "Wife?"

"Yes. Wife. Now get out, Lianna. My wife is waiting for me to pick her up and you're wasting my time. I do not take it lightly when people try to keep me from her. You saw what it did to your mother. It'll be worse if you decide to follow your mother's path. Horace!" I straighten up, pushing myself away from Lianna while she lies in a disheveled state on my couch. "Show her out. Next time ensure that Ms. Ivanov never steps into my property without a prior permission that she'll require five days in advance."

♚♠️❤️♠️♚

"You should be pleased to know that my vagina is throbbing with ache for you, your highness. She and I are missing you."

My wife's voice—a rich, breathy voice full of warmth and extreme clarity of diction—is more relaxing than the sound of rain and thunderstorm on a night and more arousing than any porn I've ever known. Travels straight down my cock, causing it to twitch with serious need.

I hate when I've to stay away from my wife for a period any longer than our usual work hours. Previously, I used to spend nights working and returned home quite late. Now, I'm always home by 7, needing to have my angel in my arms and sink in her warmth. I am always needing her with the same urgency as when I first saw her on that street at night drunk and flashing her butt while attempting to save her precious Vivier. She was supposed to fly home, but I couldn't wait and so I flew all the way to Southampton just to pick her up. 

"Well, good. Because we are missing the two of you too."

"We?"

"Her husband. My cock. Your husband. Me"

She starts laughing, the sound of it calming my nerves. "Ew, Ares! You can be so cringe. You should be locked up in some cringe jail for all these cringe thoughts that come to your mind."

"I am good as long as I'm locked up with you, baby."

"Mm! I am thinking... this jail where we get locked up should be on top of some cliff by the sea. A person should come with our meals and leave. It'll just be us two. We can eat, sleep, fuck, and repeat. Just imagine how fabulous that must be?"

Her fantasy makes me smile like an idiot. No one but my wife is capable of doing that. I had forgotten what it felt like to smile. I had no reason to. Princess Kryslian's entry in my life almost half a year ago forced me to smile for the first time in eleven years. She was a miniature of my rose, and my only connection with her, so I couldn't resist embracing the human side of me in front of her from the monster I used to be for the rest. And then my Belle herself entered my blood and spun my world off its axis. She made me do things I wouldn't otherwise like to laugh wholeheartedly or smile. Juliette De L'Aquila is the light of my otherwise dark, soulless life.

"Are you imagining, baby?" She asks when I'm late to respond.

"I suppose I am."

"Can we have a decent bed in that prison and all the sex toys?"

"Whatever you want, tesoro," I chuckle, hopping out of my helicopter on her grandmother's helipad.

Sometimes, I wonder if my wife was this wonderful deviant from the start or if my depravity molded her into it to suit me. I dig this side of her, no matter where it came from.

"Looks like you're hopping out of a chopper. Where are you, baby?"

"Work trip."

"Ugh. Did you have dinner yet?"

"I'll have it with you."

"I might be a bit late. The diplomats keep coming and going. Just when I thought the last batch had left, I can hear the helicopter landing in the castle lawn, which means we're probably not done yet. Anyway, baby, you sounded a bit off... agitated a while ago before I changed your mood with my amazing skills. Want to talk about what's up before Bubbeh calls me to join her? Is it Calliope? Althea? Something else?"

She's one dangerous creature who can always sense my mood despite my best attempts at masking them from her. No one else can, but then no one else can love me as much as she does and I won't give the right to anyone else to remain in my heart as she does to be able to read me to an extent, if not accurately. I have been gloriously livid because of the stunt Lia pulled until this call and she sensed it.

"I am agitated because I am a poor husband desperate to touch his wife after having spent almost 12 hours away from her, my sex fiend. What are you wearing?"

That catches her off guard. I can sense her pulse quicken even over the call. "What am I wearing?"

I watch the bright smile that widens on her face, her attention on the floor, and one hand over her heart. She's in a different outfit from what she wore to work this morning. She switches it post her workout every noon. It's putting her long, toned legs on display and I want nothing more than kiss those shapely calves and wrap them around my waist as I fuck her against the wall, which I will.  I am a born predator with natural instincts to chase and capture, but this woman makes me heat with bloodlust and take my predatory instincts dangerously up by several notches. My cock agrees. I don't know what it is about her that makes me so feral with need.

"I am naked," she breathes sultrily, slipping into the flow of conversation. "Waiting for you in bed. My thighs are wide just how you like it. My pussy dripping and heated, waiting for you to ravage her."

"Hands restrained above your head?"

"Nuh-uh. Not like that. My arms are bound back with a beautiful ropework so are my wrists one over another. Shibari... you said? Painful but arousing."

I watch the flush covering her skin from a distance. Her breath quickens. My rose loves being tied up. She's that girl who has always been the stereotyped good girl... the heiress, the perfect one, and the pride of her family. Deep inside, she was waiting for someone to free her from those restraints and introduce her to the darker side that lurks within her which her ideal girl persona never allowed her to explore or even think about. It was something I couldn't do before. Probably because her light and will back then was too strong for my dark possessive instincts. I wasn't a psychopath as she labeled me the night I followed her to the club after she drunk dialed me... nor was I a barbaric enforcer I am now who stops at nothing until he has achieved his goal.

"I'd fuck you with my tongue till you come in my mouth, baby. And then I'll lick your ass and eat your cunt again until you come again. You'll be so lubed up with my salvia and your cum that my cock will tear you open like a knife in butter. Probably won't be as smooth because you have a tight little cunt, but I love how I have to thrust twice or thrice for you to fully accommodate me. You'd like that, wouldn't you, tesoro? Stretched, even if it makes you throb with pain."

"Mm. There's nothing I'd love more." Her throat moves as she hums in a seductive, low tone.

"You said you were naked?"

She jumps in surprise at the sound of my voice, her head jerking up before the delicious smile on her face widens if that's even possible, and makes her look nothing less than magnificent. Her loose dark locks fall around the beautiful outline of her face. The bold sensuality of the red color that she wears on her lips contrasts to the soft one radiated by the emerald glimmer of her eyes. My wife is perfect. No woman can match my wife's stunning beauty, wit, and the way she propels the rush of hormones in me. No one has. No one will. The familiar surge of testosterone sweeps all over me at the same intensity as it does every time I see her as if it's for the very first time. My cock stirs hard.

"You are here!"

"I suppose I am."

"Oh, my goodness!" She runs towards me and leaps at me, throwing her body on mine with her arms around my neck. "You didn't say you were coming?"

"Can't a husband surprise his precious wife?" I slide my arms around her waist and bury my face in her hair, inhaling her scent and feeling right at home, running my fingers in her silky strands.

"A husband can! This is a wonderful surprise," she cups my face, lowering my head and presses her hot mouth against mine.

I love when she's the one who initiates it with as desperation as mine, showing how starved she is for me just as I am for her. Sweeping my tongue deep into her mouth, I silently demand her to suck it, which she does right away. It's a smoldering hot kiss, certainly not fit for a PDA, especially at her grandmother's house, but I don't care. She is mine and I want to devour her the way I prefer. Every stroke, every suction seems to be wiping down the traces of the long day I've had without her.

"Your Royal Highness, may I just say how delighted I am that you decided to surprise my Vivie by coming here and agreed to join us for dinner."

With poised elegance, Elizabeth gently places her monogrammed, loosely folded dinner napkin to the left of her plate at the end of the seven-course meal with wine and champagne carefully paired to complement each dish. Unlike the lunch with Jennifer, this dinner was a grand affair in the formal setting of The Rothschild Summer Palace's dining room with all the fanfare. I do not prefer it. Never liked it. There have been countless times I've skipped attending the ones hosted by my own family unless it's nonno and nonna forcing me to show up.

The three of us easily slipped into a casual conversation mostly sticking to Elizabeth telling us about her love story with her late husband. My rose tried to rile her up somewhere in the middle by mentioning the romance she had with a billionaire's private chef on his private island in Greece—her time with me. She narrated the stories of the hikes she went on, the stuff she bought, the cats she played with, the flowers she planted, the house she purchased and expressed her wish of how she'd like to take her kids there for vacations, and so on and so forth.

Regardless of how our relationship was back then, it's clear that she cherishes every moment of it. One day, I am going to return there with her and marry her again in the same chapel my nonno secretly married my nonna and we're going to have another honeymoon at the house she bought that she loves so much. I can't wait to make new memories with her as my wife in the place I happen to like the most out of all my properties. Although, ever since my angel returned to my life, every place is my favorite wherever she's beside me. She's the home I have never had and always craved.

"Vivie has been on my mind all day, Mrs. Rothschild. Of course I had to come here and stay for dinner." I wanted to collect my wife and leave, but Elizabeth was ecstatic at the idea of having me at her place, and vehemently insisted I stay for dinner. She is under the impression that I am courting her beloved granddaughter.

Belle gives me a shy smile, giving my hand a little squeeze under the table. She has been playful all along, sliding her foot occasionally up my leg.

"May I have a word with you in my study if you don't mind, your royal highness?" Elizabeth asks with a polite smile.

"Of course."

My wife frowns. "What do you want to discuss with him?"

"Some important matter. Why Vivie? I understand you're smitten with the Prince but let him spare some time for your grandmother. I assure you I wouldn't keep him for long. Surely, you can bear it, my beloved poppet." Elizabeth is not the one to miss sarcasm laced in her honeyed voice—a trait she has generously given to her daughter and granddaughter as part of her genetic code.

"Ew. Fine. I'll go check on my turtles," Belle rolls her eyes, and bound by habit, she cups my face and rises on her toes for a quick kiss, and immediately grimaces she just indulged into a PDA in front of her grandmother. "Crap," she mutters under her breath against my mouth.

I watch her in amusement as she purses her lips, her cheeks flushed, as she throws a quick glance at her grandmother who is regarding us with her arms crossed against her chest and a playful smile on her face.

"Let's head to my study so we can continue our conversation without interruption, your royal highness," Elizabeth says once my wife has left.

"Behind you," I gesture for her to take the lead and follow her to her study.

Having observed Elizabeth Rothschild over the dinner, I have realized that my wife takes after her in many aspects. With Jennifer, it's just the uncanny resemblance they share as if her mother copy-pasted her own version while creating her daughter. However, with Elizabeth, she shares the same nature. A balance of cheerful, warmth, and an unwaveringly positive outlook. Unlike Jennifer's shrewd allure, theirs is a charismatic allure that can draw even the most unwilling person in. And the two are yappers, as Calliope calls it, while Jennifer always measures her words.

"Beguiling creature she is, isn't she?" Elizabeth's gaze follows mine as I take a seat at her grand mahogany desk.

"The most beguiling I have ever seen." My eyes are hooked to the large portrait of my wife on the wall in front of me behind her chair. It's from her debutante ball. She is seated on the red chaise lounge, channeling the born royalty that she is, dressed in the same gown I made her wear on our trip to Disneyland five days ago.

"A lethal combination of beauty and brain. My pulchritudinous grandchild is one of a kind. Any man would be fortunate to have her. No wonder why you have rushed to make her yours." Her lips form into a wolfish smile as she props her chin on her knuckles, leaning forward on the desk.

"I'd be a fool not to." I read her reactions and it takes me a second to figure out that she knows.

She has been playing us all evening by pretending to be stuck on the night she introduced us.

"The private chef... all the stories from the private island in Greece. It was you." That's not a question.

"You have known all along which is why you canceled the date you had arranged for Belle with the Belgian prince and offered it to me instead."

She chuckles. "I am only a grandmother who wants the best for her child. I have never seen her as happy as she is now. What more could I ask for? She's madly in love with you."

"I'm equally in love with her."

"I am aware. Why else would you marry her?" She points her chin towards the ring on my finger. "The sudden appearance of rings on her fingers. The gorgeous tan the two of you have. The way both of you look at each other. It's certain to me even if it fools the world. Does my daughter know you eloped?"

"No."

"Good. That's how it should be. My daughter is cynical and not a believer or a great fan of love. Yours is too early. It'll unnecessarily stress her when she finds out. Let's tell her the two of you got engaged. Now, the reason I wanted to have a word with you in private. I have a hunch and a proposition. Both of which can be of importance to you. I don't want Jennifer or my pumpkin to get involved until we're through with the plan. It'll have to remain strictly between the two of us."

How was the chapter?

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