“Well if you’re cooking I won’t be!” Jessica yells at the closing door. “Asshole,” she further adds, walking into the kitchen and picking up Bryant’s untouched wine that he had just poured.

I can’t help it, I laugh, mainly because I love the dynamic between Jessica and Bryant. She keeps him on his toes, and it’s sort of cute. “How’s your day been today? Fucked any more bodyguards?” I quirk an eyebrow at her and she almost chokes on her drink.

“You know,” she laughs after swallowing. “I pray every single day and I thank God for bringing you into our lives.”

“Glad to be here.” We toast and then take another drink.

“So, in all honesty, who is cooking?” she asks. “Because I know Maria isn’t here, and the cupboards are looking pretty dry.”

“Me!” I place my glass back onto the countertop. “I’m not bad at cooking. I love food, and I love eating. Obviously,” I look down at my curves.

Jessica’s eyes run down my body. “Pardon? Mrs. Size Two.”

“Size four,” I correct. “And that’s a very hard to maintain size four. These curves? Are not the good kind. They’re the kind that jiggle.”

Jessica sighs, looking out into the distance. “I would kill for jiggly curves. I hate being petite.”

“Oh,” I roll my eyes. “Must be so terrible to be able to eat what you want and not put on weight.” I want to punch her.

She laughs but looks down to her drink with a sad look casting over her face. “Yeah, I guess that’s what most people think. But I’ve always had eating issues. Mainly eating disorders. When I look in the mirror, I see a whale, but people tell me I’m small, and don’t,” she shakes her head, “don’t say ‘oh you’re being ridiculous, you’re tiny,’ I don’t tell you this for sympathy or for you to tell me how skinny I am. It’s just, I’ve always had a very bad relationship with food, even though I love to eat! I wish I could eat and it not impact how I view myself.”

“Jessica…” I whisper sadly because I can’t quite wrap my head around what she has just said. I’ve heard about these disorders, obviously, but to know that someone so close to me is struggling with it sort of hits home. “Well!” I get up off my stool, tipping the rest of my wine down my throat. “Looks like we’re having nachos for dinner.”

Jessica’s eyes beam. “Really!”

I nod. “Uh huh.”

She squeals, running around to me and wrapping me in her arms. “Best sister ever!” Then she pulls back and points back to my chair. “So!” Oh no. I look at her. “I hear that he took you to the rents’ house. How’d that go?”

I laugh, relaxing slightly because she still doesn’t know about Justin. “Ah, it wasn’t as bad as I expected. Though in my defense, I didn’t know where we were actually going until we arrived at the house.”

“The street name didn’t give it away?” she asks with a judgey eyebrow quirked.

“Street name?”

“Yeah.” She takes a sip of her wine. “It’s called Royal Lane. They named it after my great-great whatever he was. Anyway, the house is old as fuck, and also, very haunted. I don’t sleep in the main house when I do stay. I stay in the pool house.”

Ahhh, that glorious pool house. My cheeks heat and my core clenches with the memories swimming in my brain.

“I knew it,” I mutter, my eyes glazing over. “I knew that house felt haunted.”

“Oh yeah,” she adds between taking sips of wine. “It’s very haunted.”

I shiver, although I’m pretty sure the reasons why she says it’s haunted has a lot to do with the history of the house and the age. Not really because of the same reasons as me.

The front door opens, and Brian walks through carrying armfuls of grocery bags. I chuckle, getting to my feet and going to help him. “Thank you, Mrs. Royal.”

“Can I be miss Royal?” Jessica winks at poor Brian and he stiffens. “Ma’am, you are miss Royal.”

Jessica rolls her eyes and takes out some grapes from one of the paper bags. “You call my mom ma’am, Brian.”

Brian looks between both of us, and I wave him off, sensing his discomfort. Jessica Royal, a royal pain in the ass. “Thank you, Brian, but I don’t suppose you could take us back to the store? I’ve decided to make nachos for dinner tonight so I will need to gather all the ingredients.”

Brian nods. “I don’t mind going back.”

“No,” I shake my head, rinsing my glass under the water. “We can go.”

An hour later, no shit, a whole hour to pick up mince, garlic, onions, red wine—plus more wine for while I cook—a tin of tomatoes, salsa, lettuce, sour cream, avocado, and some taco shells, and we’re finally back home in the kitchen, waiting for the pan to heat up. Jessica hasn’t let a single moment of silence pass between us during the entire time, but I appreciate it. It’s keeping my mind busy.

Looking up at the time, I see it’s almost five p.m., so it’s a good thing nachos don’t take long to cook. I don’t know much about Bryant’s meeting with Samsung, but if suits is any indication as to meeting times, even though Harvey Specter can talk, I’d say I’d be expecting him home soon.

“So what do you think?” Jessica mutters off, as I toss all the chopped onions and garlic into the pot to sauté.

“About what?” Pouring a glass of wine with one hand as my other is stirring the pot, I’m well within my element. Life is good, now all I’m missing is some good music. Just as I think it, Jessica hits play on Halsey “Bad at Love” and the speakers that are spread around the whole condo begin to play the song softly.

“About Jimmy!”

I crank my head over my shoulder to see what she’s talking about, coming face to face with Jimmy. AKA some guy’s Instagram account that is staring right at me. Well, more like his abs are staring right at me.

I go back to my cooking, throwing in the mince. “Are you asking me if I think he’s hot? Because that’s all I can go on right now, considering I’ve never actually met him.”

“You think he’s hot?” she asks again, and I turn my head over my shoulder to take another look, just to make her feel better, I don’t actually need another look. He’s not my type—period. The steroid enhanced arms, douchebag haircut and, not to mention, he takes selfies. Fucking selfies. Nope. Not allowed. Computer says fuck no. But I turn around to take another look for her sake.

“Mmmmm…” I pretend to ponder over her question.

“Be very careful with your next wording, wife, unless you want your ass beat.”

My mouth snaps closed. “Aw, honey, you’re home.” I over exaggerate my smile at him as I stir the pot. Quite literally as well.

“Oh come on, B. I just want to know her answer.”

His arm wraps around my waist and he yanks my body into him closer until I feel his cock press against my back. He leans down and licks my shoulder before biting on my earlobe and whispering, “You so much as acknowledge that piece of shit, I’ll kill him, and then my sister, and then fuck you so hard that you’d wish I’d killed you too. You know, just to prove a point.” He lets my speechless ass go and pops a grape into his mouth with a cheeky wink of an eye. “Yeah, honey, I’m home.” Then he walks out, ripping off his tie and tossing it across the room.

This man.

For the love of all things that are unholy.

“Ohh,” Jessica laughs while shaking her head and pouring more wine. “Homegirl, he owns you.”

* * *

“Why,” I moan, tilting the flute to my lips, “why am I attending, yet another charity event.”

Jessica giggles, and then wiggles her eyebrows at me suggestively. “Maybe because of your choice of husband.”

“True.” Damnit. I didn’t want to come to this event, but Bryant being Bryant, he was adamant on us making more appearances as a couple. Who would have guessed, but it turns out the united front means a lot to Bryant. I guess that’s not too hard to believe though when you look at his mother and father.

My eyes automatically search for Bryant in the sea of overly priced frocks and hair extensions. After our dinner a couple nights ago, with Jessica in attendance, we’ve again, grown closer. I feel like the more time we spend together the more I want to be around him.

My eyes land on him talking to a woman with platinum blonde hair that’s whisked up in a fancy high bun, a long red dress wrapping around her curves and those curves are of course to die for, and then she turns to face me with a smirk on her red lips before she leans into Bryant and whispers something into his ear.

Sipping my wine, I go to stand when Jessica’s hand grabs my arm. “She’s just history.”

I look at Jessica’s eyes seeing the sincerity in them before looking back to Bryant and the red witch. I glance back to Jessica. “Okay.” Then I take a seat. I can’t be mad at him. It’s not like I’m the Virgin Mary. My knee jiggles under the table and I grab the champagne that’s sitting in the middle, pouring another glass.

“Actually,” I add, drinking the entire contents at once. “I’m feeling kind of tired. Can you let Bryant know I’ll see him at home?”

Jessica seems to search over my face, trying to read my expression. She exhales. “Fine. Do you want me to come with you?”

I shake my head, placing my hand on hers and giving it a slight squeeze. “No. It’s okay.” Then I turn to walk out of the lobby and out the front sliding doors. I have to learn to trust Bryant. I can’t act like a jealous wife, it will only embarrass him and give her too much satisfaction to know that she irks me. So I take myself home. Before I accidentally punch someone. That someone being the Red Witch.

“You ready to leave, Isa?” Jerry comes up behind me.

I smile, exhaling a long trail of pent-up anxiousness. “Yes, please.”

* * *

After a long scrub in the shower, I pull open the bathroom door to find Bryant sitting on the edge of my bed. “Hey.” I carry on, walking into the room, fluffing my damp hair up. I’m going to regret the decision to sleep with it damp immensely tomorrow.

“Why’d you leave?” he asks me, but his voice is different. Tortured. Confused. The room is dark, and the only light that is coming through is from the city lights that are sneaking through the floor to ceiling windows. He removes his tie and then shrugs off his dress shirt.

“I was just a little tired,” I whisper, feeling the temperature in the room kick up a notch. Shit. Is he mad at me? Or did something happen after I left.

“Come here.”

I follow his orders. He doesn’t look up at me from where he’s sitting, so I wrap my fingers around his chin and tilt his head up to face me, and that’s when I see it. The undiluted confusion in his eyes. “I thought you were mad at me over Hayley.”

I swallow.

Shaking my head, I whisper, “No,” while running the tip of my index finger over the shadow of his beard. “I trust you.”

His arm wraps around my waist and then he pulls me down, rolling his heavy body on top of mine, tugging off his pants and sinking into me with a hiss escaping his lips.

This sex wasn’t fast. It was slow, sensual, and every time he pushed into me it was with a deep thrust. He continued the same torturous pace, locking his lips with mine and never letting up. He rode my body, and I rode his back from under him, all while our kiss never broke. Sweat dripped off of his forehead and would fall onto my face, and it was then I realized this was the first time someone had ever made love to me.