If I gave you the option to choose a trope for Kaden and Claire, what would it be? Give many answers as you want. I'm in the mood of picking it and slapping it with mine. Be wild be! I am on plotting stage so it'll help a great deal. 

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Also - keep telling me what you think about the chapters. I only have a few people as critics so far and I love the feedbacks that they give. It helps me evaluate a different perception. Although I am super far in terms of  chapters, it'll help me to note down points for final editing phase. I want to thank all those and would strongly encourage rest of you silent readers.

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"I think I should have an affair with him."

"Huh?" I look up from my book.

Claire, Selene, and I are soaking on the sundeck on my yacht somewhere in the middle of the Atlantic sea. August, his friend–an Indian origin billionaire Viaan Patel who has hopped in for a quick hi while our yachts crossed the paths, my husband, Arion, Kaden, and the twins Elias and Orson are on the main deck barbecuing or doing whatever boring thing that men do when they get together.

It has been two weeks since I enraged my husband with my overactive mind about the whole socializing issue. While we ended up sorting the whole issue by the same night, Areston thinks that I am a butterfly who loves hanging out with her friends and what he doesn't want to do is steal that away from me by making me stay home with him in our 'isolated bubble'.

Yeah, it'll be another lifetime before he lets that sarcasm slide. There's no way I want to spend my time away from him and Selene feels the same about her husband, we end up meeting in places where our husbands too can unwind with their friends.

"Viaan?" Selene, always ready for gossip, turns and rests her head on her elbow. She shoves a large portion of cotton candy in her mouth. "You just met him."

"What she said," I nod in agreement.

"You two are pathetic. Shall I flirt with him and check if he's available?" She gives us her iconic Cheshire grin that appears whenever she's up to no good and it happens a lot.

I roll my eyes. "You want to make Kaden jealous. What kind of sick foreplay do you two have going on between the two of you anyway?"

Claire doesn't tell us, but we can see it. There's something going on between them that she's not ready to talk about. He regards her with such indifference as if she's a stone in her shoe. She hates him. We have no clue why. I would have pestered her and asked, and so would have Selene, but we respect boundaries. She'll tell us when she's ready. I told them about mine when I was ready and Selene did the same. Claire was always understanding of our reasons and we have to respect the same. 

"I hate him," she says. 

"That doesn't answer her question," Selene wiggles her brows. "We're not idiots, you know? We saw the shit at Inessa's concert last weekend, which you've been avoiding addressing. That cute girl he brought as his date left huffing and puffing for some reason."

"Well, she shouldn't have come in the first place," Claire shrugs.

I snort, pushing my hand into the bag of chips but it's empty.

Oh no! This was the last one from the stock. Ever since Pavlos made me try Tottis oregano potato chips on Areston's private island, I have developed an addiction. I'd asked a local Greek grocery store owner to import it for me, which he did after much convincing and for one time only. I exhausted that stock and was whining so my husband surprised me last week by having 'some' flown in for me all the way from Greece. Climate change activists will die of coronary if they find out.

I lick my fingers instead and relish the oregano flavor. "So, is he the one who sent you the painting? Kaden, I mean?"

She scratches her jaw. "I don't know. I don't think so. Let's not talk about him. I hate him."

"Do you realize you have some stalker!" Selene exclaims in excitement. "You've always had that fantasy."

"What fantasy?" I frown.

"So, Claire and I were going through The Bacchanal Club's website. Almost after a year of having received the membership, she finally filled in the details and selected the and here's the interesting part," she exchanges a mischievous grin with Claire. "Kinks. Could be anything. As taboo and deviant as it can get."

The Bacchanal Club is a super exclusive like The House of Rothschild and Devil's Den, however, unlike it, it's a sex club for those creme de la creme of the top one percenters of the world. I wouldn't label it as a sex club, though. It's too regal and posh for that. It's a place that doesn't no one in the world but the members know about. 

The main allure of it is that it operates like illuminati—the world has no clue about it. It's where the extremely rich and powerful of this universe come to embrace their deviant tendencies and become unhinged. The old gothic-style designed dark mansion is a place where you can't drive yourself off to. They never give their address. The members schedule a visiting slot on the highly encrypted app and are assigned time. They're then picked up in a helicopter from their nearest helipad and escorted to the intimidatingly scary estate. 

No one knows who owns it. No one knows who all the members are. Everyone wears a gold mask that is of different animals' head shapes, but not a single one is alike. One of those gold masked guy saved me that night many moons ago by triggering and encouraging me to commit suicide so that I could meet with my deepest desire, which was to continue living. If Netflix becomes bored with Squid Game, that's some dark shit they can do a documentary on and it'll become an instant hit.

"Ugh. That dragon mask guy... I'd be happy to beat him to pulp whenever I meet him again. But maybe I'd hug him first for having saved me," I sigh.

"Saved you? How?" Claire and Selene speak in unison.

"It's nothing. So you were telling me about kinks?"

Claire fires up the app on her phone and thrusts it in my direction. "So, I was going through the categories and I figured out that I would love to be stalked... and here's the most taboo part..."

"Don't," Selene stops her, a knowing look passing between them and Claire winces in realization.

"What? What taboo?"

"Eh, it's nothing. Just a random kink," Claire waves her hand and returns to her book.

"What kind of random kink? I need to know! I demand."

"Pumpkin..."

"Don't pumpkin me, Sel. I need to know."

"Forced sex," she replies softly. "Pre-consent of course."

I chuckle. "Interesting. You were worried I might get triggered? I am way past that phase."

Both of them sigh and shrug. "I even matched with someone but I've been too occupied with work to accept the invite," Claire adds.

I turn on my stomach, grinning as I explore the app. Selene and Claire huddle close, keeping their hands above me as a shade to block sun from glaring on the phone's screen.

"What have I tried already? Sensation play. Check. Temperature play. Check. Impact play. Check. Animal play. Ew. Not for me. Edge play... hmm interesting. Partially check. Breath play... check. Check. Check."

"Heavens, pumpkin! You lucky bitch," Claire chuckles as I read out all the things I have done loud.

"Fear play... this is interesting," I say, adding it to Claire's fantasy basket. "Knife play? Interested. Role play? Hmm let's add it. Wax play. Let's add it. Public sex? Arousing. Let's add it. What's claustrophilia?" I open the kinktionary in the app. "Arousal in closed spaces. Hmm. This is interesting too."

"So, to summarize, all the things you've been scared of from the rehab are your fantasies?" Selene asks in a measured tone.

I frown. I hadn't thought of that. I jump to open the fantasy basket and realize my best friend is right. "I suppose. I don't know. I don't think it's sick. Is it?"

She puts her palm on my head and smiles. "Are you kidding me? Why would it be sick? Hell, I literally asked my husband to indulge me in a rape fantasy."

"And I am all for every goddamn fantasy so it's never sick," Claire throws an arm around me and squeezes me close. "Something to do with the complex way the human mind works."

"Suddenly you two are my shrinks. Pathetic," I grin, returning my attention to the app. "Rape fantasy... added."

"Pumpkin, you sneaky bitch."

"What are we discussing, tesoro?" My husband's droolworthy voice makes my heart start thudding wild.

"Kinks but none of your business, Res. Seriously. Leave your wife alone. Just because breath play is her thing doesn't mean you'll be choking her with your obnoxious presence all the time," Claire mocks playfully.

"CLAIRE!" I yell, causing both of my best friends to laugh their ass off.

I shove Claire's phone in her hand and jump up with a heated blush flaring on my cheeks while my husband has this wicked amusement playing in his eyes and a ghost smile on his beautiful mouth.

"You're so adorable I could eat you up," Areston chuckles, kissing my mouth.

"Claire, what's the kink associated with cannibalism called?" Selene teases in the background, making me blush harder.

"I don't approve of your company, wife. They're tainting my innocent rose," he adds in a stern voice between the kisses, loud enough for them to hear, but I know he's mocking them.

"Oh, please! She was as good as a virgin until June and then bam! You happened and now she has experienced so many kinks and plays within two months so it's you who tainted her, and I am so proud of my prude." Claire tosses.

"Yeah, she's my prude. Stop being proud of her," Areston scowls at her.

"What a prick. My best friend deserves better."

"Stop bickering like children," Selene intervenes. "As delightful as this conversation is, I am hungry, Res. Can you please ask my husband to stop searing dead animals and perform his marital duty of feeding me before his wife files for marital neglect?"

"What do you feel like eating? I'll fetch it for you." Areston offers, tucking me by his side.

"More cotton candy. It should be in my food bag in my cabin."

"Must you eat that unhealthy load of sugar?" He winces at her food choice without hiding his disgust and I laugh.

"Yes, I must."

He shakes his head and turns his head to me. "You're coming with me, wife."

"If the two of you are gone for more than 10 minutes I'm personally throwing you off the board," Selene yells from the back.

"Your friends are a headache."

"I'll massage it for you, husband."

"Start with massaging my cock in your sweet mouth while I massage your clit," he grins, pushing me inside our cabin and locking the door from behind.

I laugh. "Deal."

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"Are we talking?" My brother sighs on the phone.

Over the last week I have refused to talk to him or see him. He could have just barged in and demanded I talk, but he respected my wishes. Whenever he calls, I pick it up and put it away so he knows I am alive and kicking, but furious at him. Likewise, every time he barged in unannounced in my office with my favorite coffee combinations, he sat and watched me for a couple of minutes to ensure I was alright and then fumed and left.

He's pissed I meddled and I'm pissed at the way he treated Inessa. However, my brother is an extension of me. We may not be twins because I am a year older than him, but we have always lived like one. In fact, he has always considered me his baby sister, especially past the age of 8. He has been my mirror, voice of reason, and confidante since we were kids. The attention I expected from my parents, I got it from him while growing up and that part has never changed. No matter where he is, how busy he is, he always finds time for me. He's always looking out for me.

"Just."

"Are you still my sister?"

"Don't make me want to kill you, Chase." I scowl and he switches to FaceTime. He's lounging shirtless on a sun-lounger on what looks like a yacht. "Where are you?"

"Somewhere."

"Don't sulk. It's my job, asshole. Did you go ahead with your plan to decimate Inessa?"

He smiles softly. "I would never decimate her, pumpkin. I can, but I won't."

I gasp. "So was that a threat for her to accept your outrageous proposal?"

"In a way, but I am acquiring everything. That part is still true."

"Where do I go to disown you as my brother?"

"Disown your husband as well because he was an accomplice to the idea."

"Tell me you're joking?"

"Do I ever?"

"Why would he do that?"

"To encourage me," he rolls his eyes. "I had two birds, one stone type situation. Her previous music producer has been trying to sell her entire catalog to his friend. Due to the bad blood between them he wasn't going to give her a chance to buy it. He would also have put a 20 year restriction if he'd have bought it which would prohibit her from rerecording or using it in her concerts unless she pays a heavy sum every time. Fighting him in court would be a waste of time and resources. Inessa's father had without diligence signed a contract when she entered the industry that permitted the label to buy or sell her catalog after 10 years if she became famous. He wasn't certain her daughter would succeed but took the bet. I asked the board to let me acquire it and of course they'd choose me over everyone else."

I slump in my sun lounger. "Oh."

"Yes, oh."

"You should have told me that."

"Did you give me a chance? You are the replica of Jennifer and want drama. You sit on your high horse just like her ready to judge anyone. Two biggest hypocrites I know."

I scowl at him. "That doesn't make the fact that you used it to bully her right. I still stand on my opinion. Men are heartless jerks."

"Including your husband?" My heart skips a beat as I hear my husband as he pulls himself aboard the yacht with an effortless ease looking like a 7-course meal.

Shirtless and in navy blue swim trunks hanging perfectly low on his hips, giving an unapologetically bold display of his Adonis belt. He has been swimming in the sea. His broad shoulders and sculpted chest glistens in the sunlight and the water droplets are clinging to his olive skin like sparkling diamonds. My eyes helplessly trailed down his defined abs. Each muscle moves with a fluid grace as he brings his stride close to me. I bite my lip as a rush of heat courses through me.

"Including my husband. Why didn't you tell me what Chase was up to if you'd known it all along?"

"I hadn't expected my wife to eavesdrop on their conversation and make a scene about it," he answers without masking his displeasure as he runs his hand through his slick hair, shoving it back from his forehead. 

I can't help but admire the sharp features of his classically handsome face. He looks too perfect to be real. But I know he is because he settles next to me on the round bed with his legs stretched in front and pulls me in his lap. 

"Can't say I'm not glad for the drama. I got to know the shit that was cooking in your overthinking brain, tesoro. Why are you bothering my wife?" He says, regarding my brother with a cool indifference who reciprocates. 

"She's my sister first, dipshit." 

"Where the hell have you kidnapped me to?" An unmistakable female voice comes from his side. It's undoubtedly Inessa's. 

Before I can ask, my husband speaks up. "Go handle your thing. Have your demented family bonding time later. I need my wife," he ends the call.

"You must have zero regard for your safety, your highness."

"Generally? Very. With you? None." He lowers my bikini top on the right and plays with my nipple.

I end up giggling, winding up my arms around his neck and letting my fingers play with his hair. "How dare you call my family demented?"

"That's what all of them are except my exquisite wife," he murmurs, his thumb circling my areola.

"Right," I snort and watch him keep his eyes trained on my breast he's playing with, as if he's memorizing every goosebump. "Just take it in your mouth and stop tormenting me. What's with the examination?"

"I am picturing how exquisite a bluish-purple would look circling this nipple again."

"Ares, don't you dare."

"No is an aphrodisiac, baby. I wonder how many bruising bites it would take to cover your entire creamy breast with the mark of my ownership."

"You won't! I have so many social events to be a part of so my breasts need to be unmarked."

"As long as you're not attending those naked, which I won't allow you to do, we should be fine," he lowers his head and sticks his tongue out to flick my nipple.

"My cleavage and upper part would be visible in those custom couture. Don't you dare, Areston."

"You shouldn't have dangled that in front of me, tesoro. That's a bait right there," he chuckles darkly, pushing me back and climbing on top of me. "You don't really know how to make your case."

"You make my brain stop functioning, you jerk." I grin as he pins my wrists on top of my head.

"You'd be losing all your cases in front of me if I were your opposing counsel." Using his free hand he squeezes my breast so that my nipple is thrusting up.

Oh, my goodness. It hurts.

I shudder at the gratifying pain slithering up into my breasts, making my skin sizzle. "That's... true."

He rubs his thumb pad, pressing my nipple and circling it in slow deliberate motion. "I am marking it." The look in his sapphire gaze is so feral my breath trips.

Yes. What? "No!"

"I wasn't asking your permission, baby. And for the record, you want your skin to carry the symbol of my claim on you. I can smell it so don't fight," he smirks devilishly and closes his mouth around my breast, sucking the life out of it.

"Areston!" I squirm beneath his body, my eyes rolling at the back of my head at the sensation that crawls into my mind and numbs from any logical thinking.

"Shush. I love your breasts. I really do want to pierce these nipples and make you wear my monogram jewelry. But I won't." His warm tongue laps up hungrily against my nipple. "Piercing it would restrict me from squeezing it the way I enjoy it. Why would I ruin my own fun for a small fantasy?"

A dark, primal longing surges through me as I think of it. He mentioned a long time ago that he wants to pierce my nipple and decorate it with his monogram, a privilege reserved only for me–his wife. The idea of him branding me as his property was as raw and arousing as it is now. I imagine the cold metal penetrating my tender flesh and the sharp sting of pain it'll leave me in. It would be intoxicating. I crave that kind of dark intimacy.

"You can pierce me and then remove it." The suggestion is out of my mouth before I can stop it.

"Why, baby. You love me marking you, don't you?" He grins, twirling his tongue around my areola with his eyes trained on me.

"I do." I whisper, swallowing the liquid gathered in my throat at being the subject of his intense stare.

He plants a soft kiss on my nipple and lowers his hand restraining my wrists to stroke my other breast. "I could pierce and remove it. It'll take time to heal and it would restrict me from squeezing or touching your breasts the way we both love. So, nope. I won't sacrifice my needs for a passing whim. I am addicted to your body. It's an irresistible drug I cannot live without. I need to feel every inch of it all the time. I barely have the patience to skip a couple of hours without playing with it. A couple of days is out of the question."

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"Can I ask you something?"

"Would you take no for an answer?"

"Nope. Why do you risk your life with extreme sports? I am curious."

"Have you ever asked your husband why he tests the mach levels of the fighter jets he builds before they're even approved by the authorities?"

August and I are lying on our fronts on the sheet on the beach and painting. I brought along two cute ready-to-use mini painting kits. One of my many impulse buys on TikTok. He's capturing the sun preparing for its descent in his painting. Who would have thought the Dare Devil Prince is an incredible artist as well? Is there anything these royal brothers are bad at?

My husband has been on a work call for the past hour. While the rest of us typically try to stay away from work related matters on the weekends until the absolute state of emergency, he doesn't operate like that. He's so workaholic even when we're alone that he needs to spend at least one-two if not three hours taking work updates even on the weekends. All of our friends are aboard the yacht. I felt like painting by the beach and August volunteered to join.

"He used to... he doesn't do it anymore," I take a sip of rosé, washing the brush in the water and dipping it in the orange color bottle. "Said the thrill and the combined pump of adrenaline, norepinephrine, dopamine, and endorphins used to be better than sex."

"Why do you think he did it?"

Hmm. Why are you asking me that question? "Honestly? I think he derives pleasure from controlling and manipulating his environment. He thinks he's a god so dominating a dangerous situation of testing those flights and emerging unscathed provided him a powerful sense of superiority and control. It would feed his ego and reinforce his belief in his own invincibility. That's why."

"People like us...," he doesn't define what it means and I don't ask him to. It's obvious he means psychopaths, sociopaths, and class A narcissists like him and his brother without labeling it. "We get bored easily. Normal life fails to cut it. Extreme sports provides the constant simulation we need by keeping us fully engaged. We're not made for monotony. It can drive us to more destructive behaviors."

"What do you mean by monotony?"

"What does anyone mean by monotony? Mundane shit. Like being in a relationship. Coming home to the same partner everyday. All that stuff. We are dead inside and disconnected from the world so we need different kinds of intense psychological and physical stimulation all the time to give us the rush and the feeling of being alive on a planet."

"Are you trying to get your brother divorced?"

He throws his head back and laughs, not his one of the evil laughter, but a genuine one that displays his rare human side. "Souls like his and mine wander until they find their mate. Cringe shit I know. Truth nonetheless. All the adjustments to normal life we refuse to make otherwise, we do it then. A small compromise to end the unceasing restlessness that resides deep within. My brother has found his soulmate so naturally he doesn't chase those thrills anymore. Besides, I bet having a fireball of a wife like you is a thrill in itself."

"Prick." I elbow him in the ribs and get back to painting. "Don't you ever feel terrified?"

"I don't feel emotions the way others do, princess posh." I hate him when he calls me that but he doesn't care and doesn't stop. Even when his brother threatened him... thrice. "It includes fear. Those kinds of feelings are null in me. The thrill of defying death, the rush of adrenaline– it's addictive. And just like you concluded for Res, it feeds my ego, and sense of superiority and invincibility."

"It's debatable that those are not emotions in itself. Besides, would you say you don't feel any emotion whenever Lysandra is out of your reach?" Before I can hear him answer or perhaps ask me to not talk about it, I am distracted by the appearance of my Poseidon looming over us.

When exactly does one stop feeling their hearts race every time they see their husbands? That's a question I ponder over almost several times a day, every day, and the answer remains the same. Never. Every time I see him, it gives me the rush of butterflies deep in the pit of my belly just like the first night.

"Hi, baby!" I give him my hand and he pulls me up in one swift move. "I missed you."

"Doesn't seem like it," he scowls, kissing the life out of me and parting when I'm panting for the supply of oxygen returning to my lungs. "What are you doing here with my wife?"

He's his grumpy best as he glowers at his brother who appears unbothered, engrossed in his painting. It doesn't surprise Areston as it did to me and that means he knows his younger brother is a closet painting genius.

"Blessing her with my divine company while you were busy beating the bishop listening to your brand new space project updates."

"Pissant." My husband's attention returns to me and he lowers his head to kiss me once again. "Let's return to the yacht. Everyone is waiting. Some stupid truth or dare game."

"Oooh! Fun."

"Don't start," he grumbles, swooping me up in his arms along with my Roger Vivier resting on the sand and carrying me to the yacht bridle style. "What did I tell you about not talking to any man that's not me or your brother or Ari?"

"Should I be grateful you've allowed my brother and Ari on the list?" With a playful eye roll, I lean forward and flick my tongue, grazing the rough stubble on his sharp jawline.

He's a creature of habit and shaves every morning even on the weekends with the precision of a Swiss clockwork. However, yesterday morning I woke up early after having set an alarm the prior night just to join him for his morning ritual and convince him not to shave. It's the weekend and I kind of enjoy the abrasion between my legs whenever he goes down on me with his rough textured jaw.

"Yes. You're a sister to one and an adopted child to another so I trust them not to fall into your spell and chase you like I did. Although I would appreciate you keeping your communication with them as minimal so you can spend that time talking to me instead."

I laugh, burying my face in his neck and breathing in his scent as I nuzzle him. "You're a jealous, jealous man. I love it. Besides, don't worry, your highness. Even if the men fall under my spell and chase me which is highly impossible considering you'll slaughter them before they can even think of chasing. However, let's just say somehow they do escape your wrath and chase me, they'll never succeed in making theirs. You're the only man who can maintain my high maintenance ass so I have decided to bless only you with my divinity, baby."

"I can see that pissant's narcissism is starting to rub off on you, tesoro," he notes with a disapproving tone and yet amusement flaring in his beautiful gaze.

"The pot calling the kettle black. Ever heard of that?"

He grins. "Tell me you love me. I haven't heard you say that in the last 78 minutes."

I gasp. "Have you been counting?"

"Of course."

I squeeze myself close to him with my arms around his neck. "I love you, my beautiful Gremon God."

"Gremon god?"

"Well, Greek and Roman. Gremon. It also rhymes with demon which you happen to be," I shrug nonchalantly.

His sharp features soften with a reverend smile appearing on his face as he carries me up the stairs to board the yacht. "You make me feel alive, wife."

We are dead inside and disconnected from the world so we need different kinds of intense psychological and physical stimulation all the time to give us the rush and the feeling of being alive on a planet.

"More than the exhilaration you experience when pushing the fighter jets beyond its Mach limits?

"A billion times more."

"What are you most insecure about? Be real. No goofy crap." Elias questions Selene when she chooses to take the truth shot.

The sun is almost set, casting a beautiful golden glow over the sea as we lounge on the bridge deck. I am nestled in my husband's warmth in between his legs. Selene is seated in the same position with Arion opposite to us. Claire, August, Elias, Orson, and Kaden are also sprawled out on a plush mattress and cushions around us in a circle. 

My brother choppered himself a while ago to see me after I nagged him with a barrage of texts following our calls. We have never gone so long without talking so I needed him around me. He's busy on the phone somewhere. Probably with Inessa whom he has most likely kidnapped or had. He won't tell me about it.

Selene grabs a juicy grape from her charcuterie tray. "I was discussing this with Ari only last night. I fear I might not be a good mother to Kryslian and our new baby. I had no mother of my own to take clues from. I keep experimenting with new styles of parenting just so I can become the best mother to her. But that sometimes makes me feel like I am forcing myself when it should be coming naturally to me like it does to pumpkin."

"Nonsense." Arion, Claire, and I speak in unison.

"You're the best mother. You have always been one to Claire and me even when we were kids. If it weren't for you, the two of us would be a hot mess. So, that should say a lot," I say. "In fact, I wouldn't be pushing it if I'm saying you have been the mother hen to all of us when we were growing up. Areston included," I elbow him, gently nudging him to join in.

"If it weren't for you coming to see me at Harvard after the mess with Althea and force-feeding me some streetside Chinese, I would have gone three days starving." My husband surprises all of us with that one confession. I gasp, turning my head to see him. I had never heard of it before. "She cleaned my entire apartment which was a mess due to my rage and the fact I hadn't allowed help to come and do their job."

Keeping my hand on his cheek, I turn to Selene. "I love you."

"I did it for you. Not him," she smiles softly.

Arion whispers something in her wife's ear and bites her lobe, causing her to laugh.

Orson cringes at their PDA, throwing a pillow on them. "Princess Posh, your turn!"

"Her name's Juliette, dipshit," my husband snaps and Orson responds with a sly grin.

"Truth shot or Dare shot?"

"Truth," I announce, picking the truth shot– a jägerbomb shot. I've already downed two dare shots–pure Hennessy shots. I need a break from them.

"One mundane shit Res does for you that you find so romantic?" August asks with a mischievous grin, referencing our conversation.

I tilt my chin up and smile at my husband. "Well, I love how he gives Gabe the night off from meal preparation and cooks dinner for me himself every evening."

Areston bends his head to kiss the tip of my nose. He can be romantic whenever he wants to be.

"No shit! He cooks?" Everyone, but August gasps in surprise, making me look up.

"Um yeah?"

"Edible food?" Arion cock an eyebrow.

"Spicy shit as if it's a meal prepared for Satan," August grins in explanation. "Princess Posh loves that. I walked in on him making some Cyprian lasagna the other day."

"And here I thought it's only my husband in the De L'Aquila family blessed with decent cooking skills," Selene chuckles. "What's the other question for her, Gus?"

"None from me. Anyone can take it."

"I'll ask," Elias leaps at the opportunity. "What's the most childish thing your man does? Man, I am loving this game! Finding out new things about these fuckers I've known for so long."

I grin. "He wears Peppa Pig pajamas with me on Sunday mornings for an hour and watches Peppa Pig episodes while eating fruit loops straight from the box."

"SWOON!" Claire and Selene cheer together.

"I think I am going to get a heart attack," Ari chuckles. "Can't believe this is the brother I know."

"No need to be so dramatic." Areston warns his brother and tightens his arms around me, and nuzzles in my hair. "You're going to pay for this, wife," he whispers in a playful yet menacing threat only for me to hear, causing a slithering sensation to descend my spine. I clutch my thighs together, curling my toes in anticipation.

"I can't believe this is the man I've known all my life," my brother laughs, joining us and settles next to Selene. "Though, Peppa is hot."

"I was about to say," August laughs.

"Ew. Sick." I scrunch my nose in distaste. "Move on to the next."

"Tell us your biggest fear." Orson asks when it's Claire's turn.

"It's not exactly a fear, but I sometimes feel my best friends would move on with their husbands and kids, and I'd be left alone," she tosses idly. Selene and mine mouth drops open. "I know they're never going to. But it's a fear I have. That I'll be left behind while everyone will move ahead."

I jump to sit by her and put my arms around her. "No way. There's no future of mine where your mischievous presence is not right by my side nagging me to do all morally questionable things. I love you, Claire Bear."

Selene follows, hugging her from the other side. "What she said."

"My gosh, you two are so cringe. How your husbands handle you is beyond my understanding."

"Pretty sure all your ex-es and one night stands can keep you too entertained to feel left behind. If nothing works, there's always your favorite alcohol to lose yourself to, Claire," Kaden delivers with a chilling bite. Before Claire can counter, he turns to my husband, going back to ignoring her once again as usual. "Res, it's your turn to make Chase take the truth or dare shot."

"Dare!" My brother says boldly, lifting his shot glass and downing the bitter liquid without as much as a flinch on his face.

"I'd pass the opportunity as usual." My boring husband says, his tone deliberate to show his lack of interest as he dips two tortilla chips in salsa and puts it into my mouth.

He has been sitting here for my sake but has refrained from participating. I haven't forced him because I know how a big deal even this is for him.

"I'm happy to volunteer," Selene jumps in. "Tell us what's your relationship status with Inessa," she winks at me.

"That's not a dare."

"That's my dare. I'm daring you to tell the truth."

"Not that it's anyone's business, especially not my nosey baby sister's. I know she put you up to this." His jaw twitches as he answers looking in my direction deliberately and I glare at him. "Inessa and I don't have a relationship. She's my conquest," he declares unapologetically. 

Ouch. Mama is not exaggerating when she says her son is truly inhumane. I crawl back in my husband's arms who happily engulfs me in his warmth, reminding me it's where I belong.

"Men are pathetic," Selene hisses low under her breath. "Second dare, open your Instagram and show us the latest DM. Mirror the screen on the TV," she demands, pointing at the large screen behind her.

Chase fires up his Instagram and we watch it on the screen. The only person he has had a DM exchange with is Inessa. He has apparently responded to a story of her group practice from three days ago.

Don't let this piece of shit touch you again if you want his legs and arms still attached to his body. 

Have dinner with me tonight. It's not a question. 

Ignore me and I'll come over and accomplish my goal in manners you wouldn't find chivalrous.

Claire, Selene, and I watch it flabbergasted while the men chuckle. 

My husband has no interest so he doesn't make a sound and remains busy, nuzzling my neck, unbothered by what's happening.

Elias questions with a frown. "What the hell? Why's your IG DM only showing Inessa?"

"She's the only one I follow and talk to," my brother replies uninterested, leaning forward to grab a breadstick.

"So, you made an account for her and you're not even following me back!" I gasp. "Good to know what little social media importance your own flesh and blood has in your life! Pig."

Areston snorts.

"Ew. Don't mock me. I am genuinely hurt that my brother is an unapologetic asshole and so is my man." I frown at him and pick a grape from the board and shove it into his mouth. "Take my Dare as a punishment for making a mockery of my misery."

He chuckles, chewing. "Happily, tesoro. What's the dare?"

"Recreate a TikTok trend," I force a smile on my face.

"Oooh! Roman empire!" Selene chirps.

"Yes!" I squeal.

"What do I have to do?" He's annoyed? Neutral? I can't tell.

"I point my phone at him and start recording. How often do you think about the Roman Empire, baby?"

"Often. Roman Empire's military innovations and their development of Siege warfare technologies were way advanced of their time.

"What a boring man!" Claire, Selene, and the rest of them that are aware of the trend grumble.

"Quit complaining. He's my boring man!" I climb into his lap, straddling him with my arms around his neck. "I love you, your highness. Even if you are indeed the most boring man I know."

"I am grateful, tesoro," he chuckles, kissing me.

"Stop eating my sister's face in front of me," Chase mutters, throwing a pillow at us, making me giggle and Areston smile.

"What a psycho," Claire says, biting into her crispy cracker. "August, your turn. You have already taken three Dare shots so Truth shot it is this time." She passes him the jägerbomb and he downs it. "First question. I know you hate inking your body. But say if you were to get a tattoo right now, what would it be?"

"A pink butterfly," he answers without taking time to contemplate. A look passes between him and Areston which others miss.

"Pink butterflies. Lysandra likes those," I whisper only for my husband to hear.

He bites me gently on my neck. "Not our business."

"Why a pink butterfly?" Claire's curiosity piques.

"Is that your second question?"

"Hell no. Ugh. Fine. Let's move on to the second question. What is the last text you sent, to whom, and show us at least 15 reply threads."

"That's a dare."

"Hey, it's my question. Answer it. And don't lie. We would need to see that text as a proof so mirror your screen like Chase did. Privacy can bite me in the ass," she grins.

August opens his phone and taps on the latest contact he texted. Lysandra. Of course. 

He unapologetically opens it and scrolls exactly 15 threads up as if it's no big deal, which for him probably isn't because the man has zero emotions to feel how huge this is.

August: You better be home watching that British wizard trash.

Lysandra: Harry Potter is not trash.💗

Lysandra: Going out for "non-alcoholic" drinks with a friend.

August: What kind of a friend?

Lysandra: Brianna. She lives on the level beneath your penthouse.

August: No.

Lysandra: No?

August: Don't want people to slip rape drug in your drink and have their friends have your way with you.

Lysandra: She is a 38 year widow with a five year old kid. Investment banker. She's safe. 💗

August: Security will keep an eye on you. Don't drink too much of that non-alcoholic shit. Too much sugar consumption is not good.

Lysandra: 🥹🙏🏼💗

August: Be home by 10 pm. NOT A REQUEST.

Lysandra: <picture attachment> 💗

She has sent him a picture of her posing in front of a full-length mirror in her walk-in closet. She's channeling a real-life Barbie in a tiniest hot pink mini dress with sparkly spaghetti straps and glitzy party shoes with her hair in a half-up style.

Lysandra: Did a little shopping today! 💗

August: You're not going out wearing that. Change.

That's the latest text. Sent 2 minutes ago. I hear my husband cursing low in a whisper.

My head spins in his direction that mirrors the poker face of his brother's. "Is there something going on between them?" I ask him in a whisper.

He runs his fingers in my hair. "Not our business, wife."

"You clearly know and you're gatekeeping."

"No, I am not gossiping." A ghost smile twitches on the corner of his mouth. "I'm missing you, wife."

The sincerity in his voice tugs at my heart strings. "I am right here, husband."

"I haven't been inside you for six hours and," he flicks his wrist to check the time on his Breguet. "Forty-three minutes."

And that's a lot considering it's the weekend and he never goes this long. If it's not his cock inside me, it would be his mouth or fingers, but he keeps me constantly engaged every five hours. I have no idea where I get such a superhuman capacity to orgasm so many times.

"Can I just say how grateful I am that you chose to spend time with our friends just for me?"

"I vowed to keep you happy."

"I vowed to bring you peace and that comes to you when you're in solitude with me. Let's spend the next couple of weekends alone without any contact from the outer world until further notice."

"So, we can be in our own private bubble?" He teases, capturing my lips between his teeth.

"I happen to love our private bubble. I have come to realize that I'm too greedy to share your time with anyone else. You're mine. I was a fool thinking we need people to keep you distracted so you wouldn't get bored of me."

He caresses my hair. "Finally. Thank fuck."

"Jerk. Don't mock," I giggle. "Let's ditch them and lock ourselves up in our cabin. I am in the mood of allowing my god to worship me at my altar."

He scowls playfully. "I do not like pissant's narcissism rubbing on you." With me in his arms, he gets up in a smooth manner, which displays his weight lifting proficiency.

"I am leaving as well. I need to devour my beautifully pregnant wife in peace," Arion announces and I laugh watching him scoop Selene up just the way his brother did to me.

"Looks like you're not the only husband here desperate to devour his wife," I chuckle, kissing Areston as he marches away from them and we hear their collective boos.

"Well, my brother is just as pussy-whipped as I am so it makes sense."

"And I am cock-whipped," I grin, kissing the corner of his mouth. "I love you so fucking much, Areston De L'Aquila." 

How was the chapter? 

What was your most favorite part?

What was your second favorite part?

If you have changed your mind about Kaden and Claire trope, put it down here again. Tell me what it is. I am on plotting stages so it'll be a great deal.