Episode 18

ALEK

Tracking down Leila's uncles was intricate, though not insurmountable—my men are the finest at such tasks. Upon scrutinizing the report copy Igor handed her, I anticipated her request—or at least part of it. Therefore, I had Igor arrange for a home and top-tier care for Mrs. Natalie ahead of time. Later, Leila expressed her wish for her uncles to be taught the essentials of corporate leadership. I shall not engage in this personally—I might offer counsel, but that's the extent of it. Thus, I will send them the most qualified tutors to ensure their education. My workload is already substantial. Following the negotiation of her terms, Igor would collect them and take them to their new residence. The Villareals are oblivious to the ramifications of their actions against Leila. Now, they will face the consequences.

Leila's former boarding school has been shuttered, with plans for its demolition. Moreover, the headmistress, the tutors, and their aides endured a solid week of thrashings, subsisting on bread and oats. Additionally, they spent an identical duration imprisoned in 'the hole.' I vowed not to meddle in her vendetta against the Villareals, yet never promised inaction regarding the institution.

I also unearthed that Mr. Villareal is searching for Leila in Russia. We, with help from Katya—Leila's friend—broadcasted the demise of a destitute 18-year-old who slipped into narcotics post-boardingschool, perishing from an overdose. A convincing narrative was crafted; a grave bearing her name was arranged—which isn't the first, situated beside her mother's is a supposed grave of hers. Nonetheless, distraction is paramount to ensure her safety.

After my workday concluded, I returned to our apartment. It was nightfall upon arrival, and I witnessed Leila presenting two packages to one of the guards.

"Please make sure Mrs. Villareal personally receives this at the earliest hour tomorrow; the second at the address I provided,” Leila instructed.

"As you command, ma'am," the guard departed, and I approached my wife.

"What are you plotting now?" I probed, only to be met by her smile—she's even more resplendent while smiling.

"Nothing, simply giving the Villareal family a revelation,” she claimed with faux innocence.

"What did you send?" I inquired.

"Ah, my mother had a photograph of her brother and me; the only one she secreted away from Arthur. With your financial backing, I discovered that the house where I lived with my mother and Leo remains sealed since her demise. Igor and your funds secured the snapshot from my mother's old room along with a letter she penned for Mrs. Villareal—in case she ever unveiled the truth. Today, I dispatched copies of that photo, the letter, and the birth records of Leo and me. Mrs. Villareal will learn that she adopted her husband's child with his mistress and that the girl believed deceased is also his progeny,” Leila elucidated.

"I suppose the stock of those companies will soon plummet," I remarked while embracing her, and we proceeded indoors. I coaxed her onto my lap and grasped her waist securely.

“What I yearn for most is to see them lose everything, to free myself from this vengeance when they come begging for mercy. Only when I see them crawl will I grant peace,” Leila professed.

“Our alignment is implicit. Now, would you prefer I cook something delightful, or should we order in? Your choice,” I offered.

“Yes, your cooking is delightful; I also crave something chocolaty,” Leila responded.

"Alright, set the table while I cook, and I’ll order a tantalizing dessert for you," I kissed her, playfully nudging her to get started.

"Hey, no complaints if you're roped into my revenge," she retorted.

“Avenge yourself upon me as you see fit, but within the confines of our bedroom,” I whispered back playfully.

"Pervert,” Leila objected, halfheartedly.

As I prepared the meal, she arranged the table for us, after which I ordered dessert. Once all was ready, we indulged in our dinner.

"Why, with your wealth, do you not employ staff or a nanny?" Leila queried.

"Solitude and quiet have always been my preference, and I've adapted to their presence. Now you've arrived, and I've adjusted to having you here. The notion of a child joining our lives next year compels me to perhaps hire someone to cook for you and assist with everything once we return to Russia. My family wishes to watch our children grow,” I replied.

“What does it feel like to grow up in a family that loves you, where your parents consistently support you?" Leila asked, revealing a past devoid of such warmth—I resent that she endured so much.

"Well, my parents aren’t flawless, but they were there when I needed them. My mother especially believed in me—post-incident with my ex. My father, though silent, had his doubts. As a child, I had a temper and often lost control, but military training assisted me greatly. Though I can be cold at times, a close-knit family contributed to the development of my emotions," I shared.

"You're fortunate. My upbringing was tainted by sentiments of hate or vengeance. My brother was my sole recipient of affection until he, too, shattered those feelings. Now, there’s nothing left," Leila confided.

"There’s me, your husband, and soon a little one who'll call you 'mom.' You have much left," I asserted, but she merely nodded, and we resumed our meal. When dessert time arrived, she savored it, yet I yearned to taste it from her. So I kissed her and climbed onto the table.

"What are you doing?" Leila questioned.

"I yearn to enjoy dessert and you too," I declared, taking a chocolate-dipped strawberry from the dessert's garnish and tracing it upon my wife's bosom. My lips cleansed her skin, her shivers pleasing me.

“Can’t you enjoy dessert like normal people?" she protested.

"No, you are my dessert," I replied, removing her clothes and spreading chocolate on every curve. My tongue chased the sweetness, elicitng moans of pleasure.

Leila never denies my carnal proposals. Each new exploration on her physique goes unchallenged; she consents, allowing me unbridled pleasure. Marital bliss was unknown to me prior to our union—especially surprising since we hardly knew each other before the engagement. But in the bedroom, we are in perfect harmony.

Post-lovemaking, she teetered on the edge of sleep, sticky from our indulgence.

"Let's shower," I suggested.

"I want to sleep," murmured Leila, eyes shutting. I lifted her effortlessly, filled the jacuzzi, and entered it with her. As she sensed the water's embrace, her eyes opened.

"What's this?" she tried to retreat, but I kissed and held her within the bubbling water.

"I'm bathing my wife, still smudged with chocolate," I responded, continuing our intimate play, cleansing her with soap and rose scents.

"You're so opportunistic," Leila remarked as I laughed.

"The notion of marriage never appealed to me before," I confessed.

"Conversely, I consider divorce each night," Leila pouted playfully.

“Haha, you revel in it as much as I do. Your body communicates that clearly," I kissed her and we emerged from the tub. I led her to the bed, loved her once more, and we fell asleep, entwined and unclothed as was our custom.

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