"How's Adonis?"

A tired resignation fills Lev's handsome face as he settles in his chair. "He still won't talk to me, but at least he has his mother. Iva says it'll take him some time to open up."

"She's right. He's a traumatized child. Have you considered therapy for him? Maybe consider taking him to a child therapist?"

"Did yours do a good job?"

I sigh softly as I stroke the petals of one of the many beautiful Dahlias that have blossomed in the garden as if they're pets. "I've never had luck with therapists as a child or adult. You know that."

"That's why I have no plan to send my child to therapy. He'll get better with time. There's no way I'm trusting him in the care of those charlatans as you call them."

This side of him, the protective paternal spirit, makes me smile. He doesn't have the exact details of what I went through during my time at rehab, but he does know it wasn't a pleasant experience. I never told him and he never asked. It has always been a matter of mutual understanding between us. He just knows and understands.

Watching him make efforts to protect his son from the world, makes me think about my papá. I've spent decades holding a sense of animosity towards his treatment of me and while that's not wrong from my perspective, it would be wrong to say that he hasn't tried to protect me in his own ways. He might not have been right by my side at my toughest moments or any other moments, but so hasn't my emotionally unavailable mother. However, both of them have worked together in the ways they know best to make me safe, solve my problems, and look out for me. They might not be ideal parents, but they have done everything they can in the ways they've known the best. I do not remember my father ever being present for any of my important milestones or achievements, but the morning I woke up in the hospital following my escape from rehab, he was there. He was also there when I woke up in the hospital again following my suicide attempt.

Now that I think of it, he'd excused his home renovations to come live at the Rothschild mansion for a couple of days following that. He has several estates of his own in New York City alone, hotels he owns, or even yachts where he sometimes spends weekends. However, he came to live at Mama's place. I was too completely checked out to be bothered about the reason or even care back then or after. But now when I think of it, I feel it was for me. When I resumed Yale, he used to run into me once every month or so. He used to tell me he was there to check on a research building he had donated a huge amount to be constructed. Knowing him and when I realize it now, he couldn't be bothered about such menial investments. Time is money to him. The man who is responsible for important mega constructions worth billions around the world wouldn't concern himself with a building development at Yale. He was in all those places for me.

While I'd have not considered any of these reasons to excuse his behavior towards me, reuniting with Areston and falling deeper in love with him every day is making me grow as a person. I am seeing things from a perspective I never did before. It's like just by existing in my life, he's unshackling the part of me that was once used to find light in everything no matter how dark, but I shackled it following what happened at the rehab. He bulldozed my life with his darkness and put a first crack on those high walls I'd enacted, slowly helping me bring back the good aspects of my old self I'd started hating.

"Well, can I see him? I miss his face," I say, hopeful that my friend would bring him on FaceTime at least this time.

I've called him several times since the morning he picked up Adonis from my place. Lev and I are never completely out of touch, we keep exchanging frequent and random texts if we're missing each other a lot and aren't on the same continent, but we haven't been FaceTime buddies. It happens but like once in a month or so. Lately, we've been doing it a lot, simply because I miss Adonis. My husband simply holds me in his lap without saying a word or fucks me to oblivion to divert my mind when I go to him and whine about missing the child. I understand his lack of reaction. I have only met Adonis once. Also, it's not like we share the kind of bond Kryslian and I do so it doesn't make sense for me to miss him the way I do. 

I just do. I don't know why.

"I am sorry, sunshine. I know how much you miss him, but he's not around today either. Iva takes him to the beach, thinking he might feel better playing with village children."

Disappointment grips me again. "Ah, well, she's right. It might help him meet children his age."

"Yes. I'll try to FaceTime with him soon. I promise."

I smile. "I'll wait."

"Why are you so attached to the kid?" Claire asks, hanging up. I didn't realize she was hovering behind me.

"Because I saw myself in him... those haunted eyes—they reminded me of myself whenever I used to look at myself in the mirror during my initial days at the rehab when all of it started. And then when I'd escaped the rehab, thinking I'd escape the hell, however, a bigger hell was waiting for me—the emptiness, the gnawing chasm, and the dirty feeling of having had so many people touch me and make me orgasm. Once I started getting used to the pain and the rape and the torture, I stopped crying because I'd made peace with my fate. When I escaped that hell and had time to contemplate in the hospital, it all came rushing back and gave me nightmares I couldn't escape from. I see the same fear, the acceptance of fate, and the need to escape in his eyes. I could be wrong, but that's what I see and feel so attached to. He did nothing to deserve such suffering, Claire."

She sighs, not knowing how to respond, and offers me her hand. I accept it and get back on my feet.

She throws the same arm around my shoulders as we walk back inside the Legacy Lounge. "No one did, pumpkin. You didn't deserve what happened at the rehab either. It's scary, yeah, but such is life. He has his parents, no matter how fucked up they are, to take care of him and his trauma. You don't have to keep calling, feeling responsible for him just because you took care of him one time."

"You think that's what I am doing?"

She gives my arm a gentle squeeze as we continue marching ahead. "That's why you're seeking him out repeatedly. You couldn't save 19-year-old Juliette. You want to save 4-year-old Adonis. He's not your responsibility. I am certain his parents will do a great job as they would have had even if he'd remained out of your radar."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right." I hug her sideways and place my head on her shoulder. It helps that she's an inch taller than me. She's the tallest amongst us all.

"I am kicking your ass if you spoil my Chanel with your tears and calling your husband who'll go all nuclear when he finds out you're thinking of someone other than him. Sometimes I think you were better without him. You never cried for a decade and it was perhaps good. But then, I'd have not gotten my old friend back who cries at every minor inconvenience like the princess she is. So, maybe it's good he's your husband."

I swat her arm. "You're such a slut."

"So, Res serenaded you at Dorrian's last night, huh? Didn't expect that jerk to do something so shocking," she flashes me a mischievous grin as she raises her phone and opens Gossiping Ladyship. "Super possessive, jeez! So many people recorded it and it has gone viral on every damn social platform. TikTokers and Reelsters are having a field day posting reaction videos and signing petitions for him to record a music album or just a song."

"Ugh. Don't remind me. I paid a heavy price. My ass and vagina are still sore."

"So, that's why you were limping. Wow, that animal," she laughs. "Who did you try to flirt with this time?"

"No one. He didn't want me on the stage or anywhere without him in that Calvin Klein piece. Can you believe it?"

"Ew. What are you doing married to that reddest flag? Run away or don't. I love it when you're limping, which has happened a lot of times since you two met, by the way. I am elated that my bestie has a fulfilling sex life at last."

I put my finger in my mouth and make a gagging expression. We join Inessa and Lysandra who've joined us. 

It has become our regular thing. We put on our favorite Chanel and come to Legacy Lounge every Friday for lunch during our work break. Selene couldn't join because of her work meeting. 

My husband wasn't happy about the fact that I was carving time out of my schedule for girls instead of spending it with him. I had to compensate for it by giving up my Monday and Thursday lunch breaks reserved for working out. Now, I use that time eating lunch with him in his office and then being spread out on his desk and eaten by him for his dessert. I will never be comfortable inviting him to my office and being the center of juicy gossip more than I already am every day. The structure of his office offers the kind of superior privacy with all those FBI-like multiple layers of security and crossings that mine doesn't because I am a more approachable boss to my employees. Unlike him who prefers being super inaccessible.

"Spill, Juliette. How did you manage to snag such a hot man for yourself? What Satan do I have to pray to and how many virgins do I have to sacrifice to get myself a love story and super hot Greek god like yours?" Lysandra lowers her go-to drink choice of Cosmopolitan, she doesn't drink anything else, and leans forward with her fingers steepled under her chin.

As usual, she's an explosion of pink. All of it pastel today. A baby pink gloss on her lips, pink Chanel tweed suit, pink satin ribbon in her hair beautifully braiding some of her ash blonde hair up while other falls loose, pink custom Jaeger-LeCoultre watch on her arm, pink Claire Vandenberg sling, and an oversized pink Chanel glasses covering her gaze to hide last night's aftermath.

"I'd have died and gone to heaven if I had a sex lord like Areston who looked that hot and had that amazing voice serenading me in public like that," Inessa sighs dreamily, relaxing back in her chair while sipping from her negroni.

If Lysandra is a pink bubble gum explosion, Inessa is a human embodiment of the color gray. She's never seen in any other color except for her concert performances and music videos where she has to wear all the vibrance that her designers get her in. She has been like that since childhood. Her natural red hair which could rival the OG redhead Isla Fisher always pops out brightly on her choice of outfit color.

"Please. You do have a sex lord for yourself who may not have seranded you in public but definitely did in private judging from the way you were hiding subtly limping like this one when you walked in," Claire snorts in response to Inessa and points her finger at me as she plucks the cherry out of her Manhattan and pops into her mouth.

Inessa visibly flushes a bright shade of pink. "Not even."

"Pathetic liar," Claire counters. "Gossiping Ladyship gave an exclusive on Chase coming out of your building in the middle of the night. My goodness, it was quite a night all of you had."

I wince at the reminder that Inessa and my brother have some weird kind of arrangement going on between them.

"I didn't. I tried to flirt with this handsome guitarist until Prince August interrupted and scolded me for being desperate," Lysandra sulks childishly. "He dragged me out of some secret exit and drove me home so I couldn't flirt with anyone else. I was so annoyed. I don't even get annoyed. Like ever. It's not me. How will I ever get a boyfriend at this rate?"

I smile. "Stop looking for one. When you stop, you'll see that the right one will come and find you."

"Yep. Looking for a boyfriend will only lead to heartbreak," Inessa hums the lyrics of one of her songs.

"Did it happen in your case?" Lysandra asks me, her eyes hopeful.

"Yes. I did go on countless dates because Claire, Selene, mama, and Bubbeh had made it their life's aim to get me a boyfriend, but none of it worked out because I wasn't interested or looking for one. Areston just bulldozed my life out of nowhere."

"Please bitch," Claire waves her hand in dismissal and tilts her glass to sip her Manhattan. "What about Zayd? Had he not been a heartless asshole, you'd have been in a happy relationship. You said so yourself, he was the only person you could've moved on with—the only person who could've been the one."

"Yeah, possibly. But I didn't go looking for it either. It just happened," I lower my eyes to my martini and stir the small metal straw the staff always presents to me as per my instructions and discards after one time use.

I have kept Zayd blocked since the last time he tried to approach me the other night more than a month ago. I hadn't felt bad about it or even thought about it until now. The only two people I've blocked in my life are my husband and Zayd. 

Was I perhaps too harsh on Zayd by refusing to talk to him? I could have at least gotten on the phone and told him I was in a happy relationship. 

Had it been Claire or Selene in my place, they would have definitely answered the call and mentioned their relationship status just to make him jealous or whatever because they're proudly petty like that. They've been in relationships to know and have done things that involve making an ex feel jealous. I've never been in one apart from the one with Areston so I don't know those kinds of dynamics. 

Now that I think of it, Zayd and I never got any closure. 

It just... ended.

"Had the two of you continued and entered a relationship, I have no doubt you'd be married to him," Claire adds, gently nudging me with her shoulder. "You really, really liked him. You'd have probably never ended up crazy drunk and crying over your Roger Vivier outside Devil's Den. The chance encounter with Areston would have never happened."

I shudder at the thought. I can't even imagine a second where Areston isn't my husband.

"Who's Zayd?" Lysandra asks with so much keen interest, she finally slides up her pink oversized Prada sunglasses on her head, giving us a direct look to her bloodshot eyes. Now it makes sense why August asked her not to come to work.

"No one."

"Not no one," Claire scowls at me playfully. "He could have been her possible love of life. Zayd Benjelloun. I like to call him the London boy after your lyrics, Inessa."

"Hold on. The reclusive billionaire hottie?" Inessa gasps. "Jeepers! He's so hot! You were dating him? Well, I mean. Of course, you were," she opens her phone and googles his name as I glare at my best friend who's enjoying this. "He's just as hot as Prince Areston. No wonder you'd have married him."

"I wouldn't have married him, Ines. Claire exaggerates."

"No, she doesn't," my best friend defends herself, curling her arm around me, and doesn't leave me even though I try to playfully shove her away.

Lysandra snatches the phone from Inessa's hand and zooms the picture. "Great. One more single hottie to the list who hasn't found his way to me yet."

"What list?" I laugh.

"So there's this breathtaking spectacle. Then there's Mr. Ravenhearst. Who also happens to be the embodiment of temptation," she sighs dramatically and Claire stiffens beside me. When I look at her, she avoids my gaze. "The list goes on, but these are the closest in our circle."

"What about your boss? He's literally Prince Areston 2.0 and he's the closest of all to you. Shouldn't he be your prime target and the priority on your list," Inessa teases her.

Her cheeks are swallowed by a crimson blush as she scowls at her. "He's... I don't think he sees me as anything more than a child he's guarding or probably a sister. I don't know which is worse, but it's nauseating," she winces quite visibly as if just the thought leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.

Shukura's text notification diverts my attention. I collect the Birkin on the crook of my arm. "Alright, ladies. This was fun, but I won't be able to make it through lunch. I have a certain witch's arraignment to attend so I need to doll up for the nice occasion. We'll catch up soon and don't gossip about me behind my back," I throw them a playful eye before exiting.

💗💗💗

Stark.

Cold.

Imposing.

Austere.

So many words to define this downtown Manhattan courtroom. Every time I stand here, which hasn't been much due to my allegiance to The Rothschild Group, I feel the most in touch with the part of myself—the 19 year old Juliette—that I lost over a decade ago.

Ronald and Martin tore my life apart, shattered me, and found an easy way out. It doesn't matter how they died. It matters that they died before they could be brought to justice. They died without the world knowing the kind of monsters they were. Being the kind of glaring media scrutiny I would have been subjected to and my own choices coming under question considering who I am and what happened and where it happened, I would have never gotten them punished for the heinous crimes they did to me. I would never have put my family through dealing with the repercussions of that. However, I would have represented the other victims of their crimes and made those bastards rot in prison until their last breath with the whole world knowing what they did. I couldn't though. The only one alive out of them is Fletcher, but I couldn't have done anything to him either because I don't know whether he's alive or dead. There's a part of me that didn't bother looking into it because I wanted to truly move on after my last failed attempt to kill myself.

The loss, the void, of never having gotten the satisfaction of seeing them suffer, has always haunted me. It's a wound that'll never heal.

However, this world is full of people like them. Which means the world has so many victims waiting for justice. While I couldn't help all of them, I could help some, and ever since I started doing that, the void and sense of loss have hurt less after getting the satisfaction of seeing those victims happy watching their abusers getting sentenced with the punishment they deserve. Every time I watch that, I feel like it's me being awarded the much-needed victory and vengeance I was denied. Ekaterina Yeleshev will pay for every single crime she committed. I'll make her. She'll suffer for every lie, every single life she destroyed, every hope she killed, including what she did to my husband, and nearly succeeded in accomplishing her aim of keeping him as hers through her sick, twisted, and disgusting means. I will make that bitch regret every second for the rest of her life. She'll regret having ever met my husband and having tried to manipulate him to forget me. I agree it's a selfish motive and not purely out of my need to avenge her victims. But I am no saint. I am the person Jennifer Rothschild considers her consigliere. I'll never leave an opportunity to exploit a situation to fulfill my end goals.

"You loved this watch, huh?" Shukura asks, seated beside me.

I touch the custom Vacheron Constantin on my wrist. It's the first present I received upon my graduation and it was from my father. He did not want to upset his wife by being the first one to give me a graduation present so he'd asked his ever-reliable secretary, his right-hand man, Jameson Hale, to give it to me after ten minutes. He had no idea my mother had planned to give hers later in the evening. A private jet of course. My daughter will take her rightful position with The Rothschild Group and will become a jet-setting businesswoman flying continents like me. This is the most practical present I could think of. It was a rule. No one was allowed to ever give me a present before Mama did. Chase and Areston always broke the rule of course but that day, even Chase couldn't. He was the second one.

Till today, mama doesn't know about this present. I had never bothered to take the watch out of the box until today when I went home to get ready for the arraignment after leaving the girls at Legacy Lounge and asked Shukura to dig into my collection of old presents so I could find this watch. I don't know why I wanted to wear it today. It could be because of my resolve to see him and make an attempt to fix things, strengthening with every passing hour. And I am glad I did. It made my eyes open to a discovery I would never have otherwise. Call it coincidence or the universe's plan, which I have started believing ever since Areston came into my life. 

The watch is engraved on the back. My pride. 

I may have choked up upon seeing it and would have ended up in tears had it not been for my husband surprising me with his appearance. He was scheduled for a meeting, I saw it in his calendar, but he wanted to see me before I left for the arraignment. It was his last attempt to coax me into letting drop the idea of being present at any of that whore's hearings, but I denied it as I did many times since yesterday. As much as I know he's just a concerned husband looking out for me, there are some things I have to deal with on my own, regardless of how ugly or triggering they are. He wanted to accompany me to the court to give me company so he could keep an eye on me, but I didn't want him anywhere even in the furthest periphery of that bitch.

I just don't want the case to take a different media angle, which is likely to happen if he's spotted at the arraignment. It's already a high-profile event and my involvement as the advisor to Ekatarina's victims has only added more to media and public fascination as it always does. Having him around would only amplify it. I don't want it. The attention should solely remain on victims that's why I want him completely out of the scene. A firm decision my toughest manipulator husband couldn't dissolve. He would have succeeded if he wanted to, but he didn't push it. It makes me elated that he understands what I need and is giving it to me without having to make me fight for it.

"I suppose I do."

"You're really doing it after this god-awful arraignment? Meeting Ramon that is?" She asks.

"Yeah," I nod, my forefinger tracing the tasteful brilliant-cut diamonds micro pavé setting on the circumference. "I am."

I am. I reaffirm silently as if wanting myself to believe it.

"Chase is okay?"

"No, but he'll come around." My brother thinks it's the worst idea, but he wouldn't know what it is to feel the way I do because he's incapable of that. We had a slight argument when I texted him on my way here to inform him about my plans and he went all ballistic on me.

"It wasn't enough that you wanted to please Satan, now you want to please him as well? If anything, he should be the one coming to you."

"Maybe he wants to but it has been such a long time he's hesitating?"

"Such a fucking emotional fool. Don't do it, pumpkin. You already have Jennifer as a parent in your life. People don't even have parents. You have one. Be happy. Ignore the man who has always regarded you as nothing but his wife's most favorite object."

"Stop it."

"No, you stop disregarding my warnings. First, you went ahead and married your boyfriend whom you haven't even known for two whole months. Then you started bonding with the woman who literally triggered a panic attack in you and now this stupidity."

"I can't be like you."

"Be like me. You'd be happier."

"Chase!"

He didn't respond to my last text. I tried calling, but he directed it to his voicemail. I am the only person whom he allows to see him react with rage like that. Or sometimes be petty like that. I take a heavy breath as I hold my head up high, as the murmurs inside the courtroom grow from the benches filled with media personnel and spectators. The witch of the East is being brought in, handcuffed, and flanked by law enforcement officers. Her eyes grow with fury as she spots me and I greet her with a smirk. The judge sets the court in session and announces the charges of first-degree murder, solicitation of a minor, embezzlement, identity theft, and human trafficking against the witch of the East and as expected her defense attorney, a filthy rat who should've been long barred from practicing law, not guilty on all counts as expected.

The prosecutor, Ms. Allen, stands up for her turn. Her family is one of my family's oldest acquaintances. She stresses the need to deny the bail based on the evidence that shows how the witch of the East has manipulated, threatened, and coerced victims throughout the last couple of years.

To which, her defense attorney argues that denying bail would be pre-judging the witch's guilt. He assures complete cooperation with investigators and proposes that bail be set for her. The shameless twat also boasts of how the witch has worked for decades into helping sexual assault survivors, which was something her actual twin started doing, so she cannot be labeled the devil the prosecution is portraying her to be.

"What if she gets bail?" Shukura whispers in my ear.

"She won't. I've made sure of it," I answer, chewing on my bubble gum while my gaze remains on the witch of the East who is shamelessly glaring at me all this time. I am the sole focus of her attention. If she could, she'd have jumped and stabbed me right in the heart for the misery I'm putting through.

"Your Honor, we have evidence that Ms. Darina Ivanov has been planning to relocate to the UAE for the past week—a non-extradition country since news of her ties to another accused high-profile human trafficking mastermind has started surfacing. The said accused is a fugitive," Ms. Allen informs the judge, and the witch of the East glares harder at me.

Nobody knew she was up to this—nobody but my husband who took care of it by blocking all her attempts to flee the country. "That's how I know she won't get bail," I smirk harder, whispering to Shukura.

"This only demonstrates that Mrs. Darina Ivanov is a clear flight risk. She's well and truly capable of evading the law. Given the nature of the crimes and her extensive financial means—the risks of granting bail are too great. Her actions already prove a complete disregard for the legal consequences and a propensity to exploit systems to her advantage," Ms. Allen finishes.

The judge asks the defense for their response and the witch's attorney tries to defend her plan to flee the country as a business move. He proposes strict bail conditions to be set for her, including house arrest and electronic monitoring, and surrender of passport and all travel documents. The prosecutor argues that letting her out, even on bail, would mean allowing her to manipulate victims and temper evidence by exploiting the system, which they have evidence of. That argument seals our victory.

"The court acknowledges all the arguments and presumption of not guilty until proved. However, the attempt to locate to a non-extradition country under suspicious circumstances, significantly undermines every assurance that Mrs. Darina Ivanov will not attempt to flee. Taking the account of the number and nature of charges against the crimes, the potential threat to the community, and the evident flight risk leads the court to the conclusion that no release conditions can reasonably assure the safety of the community or Mrs. Ivanov's appearance in court. Bail is denied. Mrs. Ivanov will continue to remain in federal custody. Three weeks from today, we'll have the preliminary hearing. This court is adjourned," the judge concludes and bangs the gavel.

"Enjoy the prison life," I mouth to the witch of the East, waving at her the royal way, just to watch her burn.

"Wasn't this judge trying to persuade you to invest in his wife's fashion line a couple of months back?" Shukura probes as I settle into the Maybach, handing me one of the two frappes she had her assistant bring for us.

"Yes," I chuckle.

"You said you weren't interested," she flashes me a cheeky grin. "I thought he'd be a bitch about it."

"He would've been a bitch about it because I am still not interested. However, I wanted to owe him a favor so he'd return one to me. Claire Vandenberg, LLC will be taking over it once this settles out. The agreement has been signed," I wink.

"You evil genius."

"How do I look?"

"Always amazing. Are you really going to see Ramon?"

"I am," I smile.

Her own smile broadens as she checks a text notification on her phone.

I narrow my eyes playfully. "Who got you smiling like that?"

She whips up a quick reply that's no more than one word 'ok' I bet and closes her flip phone. "Your husband."

"I do not like the idea of him making you smile." I accuse, grinning.

"Cut it out. Jealousy doesn't suit you. Besides, your husband is a damn robot. Where are his manners? Always barking orders. Never greeting me or saying thanks. Had I not known how much he loves you, I'd have nagged you to leave his arrogant ass."

"Yet you're the one who's always helping his arrogant ass. It's your problem really. And whatever you two are conspiring, stop. I'll have your head on the chopping block for being a traitor."

"You can't kill me and he won't let you kill me. You need me to keep you sane and he needs me to make plans for you. There's no riddance really."

"Where does all this arrogance come from, I wonder. He's brushing off on you and not in a good way. Ew," I give her a begrudging smile. "I'll see you later. Drive me to see papa, Oliver. We're doing it."

"A melon's burger on the way for a quick refuel?" His apparent happiness is visible on his face even though he tries hard to suppress it. He has been positively radiant since I announced to him on my way to the hearing that I intend to go see my father today.

I pat my tummy. "I am too anxious to eat anything."

"A burger won't hurt, Ms. Rothschild," he suggests, pulling into the traffic.

"How about an ice cream? It's been a while since I ate one of those streetside ice cream bars. Do you remember which one? It is on a stick and is white inside and has a layer of hard chocolate with crushed crunchy peanuts outside. The layer that starts falling the moment you take a bite. A chocolate bar of some kind."

"I will get it."

"You don't think I am an idiot, do you? Chase thinks so. He's not even talking to me, Oliver," I sigh, sinking into my seat with my head leaning back as I stare at the traffic outside.

"You're an intelligent lady who makes well-calculated decisions, Ms. Rothschild. If you have made a decision to talk to your father after all this time, it must be followed by careful consideration and no rash decision."

"That's what I told Chase. He says it's impulsive and an overly emotional decision."

"Did his words deter you?"

"Nope."

"There's your answer. He tried to convince you against your decision by giving you reasons he thought were logical. You got enough time to think about it and decide against your original decision, but you didn't. It can only mean that it's no impulsive or overly emotional decision. You know what you're doing."

I smile, averting my eyes to look at him through the rearview mirror. His own are focused on the road. "Do you think it's the right decision?"

"Life is too short to not mend the broken relationship, especially with our parents. We're not the only ones growing old, they're too. Not wise to hold to a sense of pride and not speak while they're alive. Even if they're the ones at fault, it's alright to let it go sometimes as long as they forgive their mistakes just like they forgive ours. You're a bigger person here and I hope you know how proud I am of you, Ms. Rothschild." His eyes finally meet mine in the mirror and I see something I've always wanted to see in my father's eye. Pride.

My eyes feel heavy as I wipe a lone drop of tear that escapes. "You're never leaving me, you know that, don't you? I would never let you retire even if you're 100 or something."

The corners of his mouth lift in a soft smile. "I am only 50 now. I'll be around to drive your little girl until she's 25, I assure you."

"Just me. I am too selfish to share you with anyone else."

Husband: We're celebrating your win tonight. Taking you out on a date. Dress casual.

Me: What kind of date is casual?

Husband: The kind that involves boarding a flight.

Me: GASP. Where are you taking me, baby?

Husband: It's a surprise.

Me: Ew. I never board a flight dressed casually. Do you know me at all?

Husband: No one will be around to photograph you, Belle.

Me: So what? I like to look my best for my husband who looks like the finest male model to exist all the damn time.

Husband: You're beautiful to me all the time, my little ogre. No efforts needed.

Me: Even when I'm waking up with messy hair?

Husband: More then. You look thoroughly fucked and sore. My marks all over your skin makes you ravishing.

Me: Blushing hard. Stop bothering me. I have work to do.

Husband: Ramon?

Me: Yes.

Husband: My offer still stands. I can come along.

Me: Nope. It's between him and me. Let me deal with it. Besides, he's always adored you so it's better you're nowhere around when I'm in his vicinity. I'll get jealous.

Husband: Tell me you love me.

Me: Always.

Husband: Words, Belle.

Me: What will I get in return?

My phone starts vibrating from his call. "What will I get in return?" I answer, picking it up.

"Hmm. What will you get in return? You'll become a trembling mess. My handprints will be all over your ass and cunt. There'll be my cum dripping from every hole you've got after my cock has thoroughly used you. And if you behave now and oblige, maybe I'll reward you by letting you suck me off after." His voice, a deep, resonant baritone with just the right amount of gritty edge and gravel that vibrates through the phone with a slow, teasingly deliberate cadence. It screams pure sex, making me feel like he's sitting right beside me and whispering in my ear. My pulse soars.

I clench my thighs in response, blushing. It doesn't help that I'm with a company. "I love you, my attention-seeking husband. So damn much."

"Good. You'll get your reward tonight."

"I better. Mile high!"

"I'll pick you up at 5 from your dad's, baby," his voice drops to a softer note from seductively playful to tender.

"What makes you think I'll spend 2 hours there? Maybe it's all in my head and he doesn't want to fix anything. I could be heading home within 10 minutes of my arrival."

"Whatever happened to my eternally optimistic wife?"

"She's right here. Tell me how much you love me."

"You're the ruination I can't resist. The poison I yearn for. The addiction I can't live without. The relentlessly consuming chaos that steadies me. You're the blood in my veins, tesoro. Does that tell you enough?"

I smile at his ability to become the perfect Shakespeare-esque lover whenever he wants to. "Does. Now just tell me those three simple words."

"Those mean nothing."

"To you, it doesn't, but to me it does."

"I love you, Belle."

"I love you, Beast."

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