Chapter 100 My Lamb in Emerald
“R… Ravial,” Leitana giggled, trying to squirm away as he kissed her everywhere, her lips, the corners of her mouth, her cheeks. His hand gripped her waist tightly while she straddled his lap, thighs bracketing his hips in the dim backseat.
“You make mi lose focus,” she protested, cupping his face to hold him still.
But he only leaned in further, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of her nose.
He pulled back just enough to “look” at her, blindfold in place. “What do you need focus for, my lamb?”
She pouted, lips still tingling from his attention. “To prepare for mi team at the shoot and ting. How to talk to Willow. I hear she get pride now Celeste out the way.”
“Hmm, is that so?” he murmured, already leaning in again to brush a kiss across her eyelid. He didn’t seem to care about Willow or anyone else—only the little lamb in his arms mattered.
“Yes o, mi really need to be serious,” she insisted.
He chuckled low, nuzzling his face against her cheek and rubbing gently, the second time today he’d done that, like he couldn’t get enough of her warmth.
“So tell me,” he said, voice muffled against her skin, “what’s your plan once you get there and meet your team?”
She hummed thoughtfully. “Mi no sure yet. Mi need to see dem first, den we talk about how to approach Willow. Den mi probably go ask about her, her life, her family.”
“Do you really need to know all that?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his tone.
“Yes nah. Yu know Lafu and the girls say she talk a lot and she acting mean, but even though everyone get battles… what make dem sad, what make dem who dey are.”
“So you’re going to use it against her,” he said, sounding quietly impressed.
Leitana shook her head fiercely. “No, Ravial! Why yu think dat? Yu know your wife not like dat. Mi really want to know about her… to understand if she really allow Jim to sell her to sponsors to sleep wit.”
Ravial smirked against her skin, dark and knowing.
But then Leitana remembered something important.
“Ravial, mi have questions.”
He went quiet for a moment, then murmured, “Go ahead, lamb.”
She threaded her fingers through his hair, rubbing soothing circles against his scalp.
“Why women like Willow working for yu… your models have to accept to sleep with sponsors? Lafu tell mi their sponsors who gift dem, sponsor dem for brands—those different. But if yu pushing this women well, dem making name for themselves, why dey still need to sleep with this people to ting dey need to go far more?”
Ravial eased back just enough for her to see the faint, indulgent curve of his mouth. He shifted beneath her, settling her more firmly across his thighs so she was cradled against his chest. One arm locked around her lower back; the other rose to cup the side of her throat, thumb resting lightly over her racing pulse.
“Most women in this industry don’t have to,” he said quietly, voice low enough that it blended with the hum of the car engine. “The legitimate sponsors—the brands, the fashion houses, the luxury conglomerates—pay in money, exposure, contracts, private jets, penthouse stays. That’s the clean side. That’s what the public sees. That’s what builds careers.”
He paused, letting the words sink in.
“But there is another layer. Always has been. Private investors. Old money. Men and sometimes women who don’t care about billboards or magazine covers. They want access. Influence. A beautiful face on their arm at closed-door dinners, a willing companion in their beds where deals are made in whispers. They don’t pay the agency. They pay the manager. Or the division head. Or whoever controls the girl’s schedule.”
Leitana’s brows drew together, confusion and unease swirling in her hazel eyes.
“But… why? If dey already big, if dey make name, why still need dat?”
His thumb stroked once over her pulse, feeling it jump.
“Because the industry is a pyramid, little lamb. The top is very small. And very crowded. Thousands of beautiful girls can walk a runway, smile for a camera, wear a dress. But only a handful reach the peak, Vogue covers, couture shows, billion-dollar ambassadorships. To stay there, to climb higher… some girls, some managers… decide the shortcut is worth it.”
He leaned in, lips brushing her temple.
“Jim isn’t forcing every model. He doesn’t have to. He finds the desperate ones, the insecure ones, the ambitious ones willing to destroy themselves. He whispers that this is how it works at the top. That everyone does it. That refusing means you slide back to swimwear catalogs and local shows. And once they say yes once… the hook is set. They’re in his debt. They’re afraid. They keep saying yes.”
Leitana’s breath hitched.
“So… him choose who go far, and who no?”
Ravial’s hand slid down to rest over her heart, palm flat against its frantic pounding.
“In his little kingdom, yes. But not in mine.”
She looked up sharply.
“Yu… yu no allow dat?”
His jaw tightened—just once.
“I built Ashbourne Global on talent. On results. On fear of losing the next contract—not fear of losing dignity. I don’t traffic in flesh. I traffic in power. There is a difference.”
He tilted her chin up higher.
“But men like Jim exist in every shadow of this world. They always have. And when I find them… I remove them.”
Leitana swallowed hard.
“Yu goin’ remove Jim?”
Ravial’s smile was slow. Cold. Beautiful in its cruelty.
“When the time is right,” he said softly. “When every name he’s fed to those ‘sponsors’ is in my hand. When every girl he’s hurt has a voice again. When I can make sure he disappears so thoroughly no one ever asks where he went.”
He brushed his lips over hers—gentle this time, almost reverent.
“But that is my war, little lamb. Not yours. Your job is to listen. To be kind. To let Willow talk herself into a corner. And when she does… you bring me the pieces.”
Leitana searched the blindfold for a long moment.
“So yu knew all dis time that Jim had something do wit it. Why yu no stop Celeste death on time?” she asked, a thread of disappointment in her voice.
Ravial looked at her. “I’ll be honest with you, my lamb. Despite my power, I do not know everything. Celeste wanted something from me I could not offer, and that led her into the wrong hands, hands I didn’t know held such darkness. I don’t really focus on the modeling division since…”
Leitana cut in softly. “Since you broke her heart.”
Ravial went very still.
The car’s low hum filled the silence, city lights sliding across the tinted windows like distant, fleeting stars.
Leitana’s hand stayed on his chest—small, steady—feeling the subtle shift in his breathing, the way it deepened and slowed, as if he were choosing each inhale with deliberate care.
She didn’t pull away.
She didn’t flinch.
She just waited.
When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than she’d ever heard it—almost stripped bare.
“Yes,” he said. “Since I broke her heart.”
The admission landed soft, but heavy.
Leitana’s fingers curled slightly into his shirt.
“Mi know yu never promise her nothing,” she whispered. “Mi know yu never lie to her. But she… she build whole world in her head around yu. And when yu say no… it break everything she believe.”
Ravial’s hand lifted, slowly covering hers where it rested over his heart.
“I didn’t see how deep it went,” he said, each word measured. “I thought distance would be kinder. I thought pulling back from the division would protect her from… expectations. From me.”
He paused.
“I was wrong.”
Leitana’s eyes searched the blindfold, wishing she could see behind it, she knew rage was simmering behind it.
“Yu pull away from modeling division after dat?” she asked gently.
“Almost entirely,” he confirmed. “I left it to Valentina, managers. Trusted reports. Focused on the rest, music, film, global acquisitions. I told myself it was strategy. Efficiency.”
His thumb traced the edge of her wrist, slow, unconscious.
“But the truth is simpler. I didn’t want to look at her face and see the hope I’d crushed. So I looked away.”
Leitana’s heart squeezed.
“Snakes come in when yu look away,” she said quietly.
Ravial’s jaw flexed just once.
“Yes.”
Silence stretched again.
Then Leitana leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his, noses brushing.
“Yu no look away from mi,” she whispered. “Even when mi sick. Even when mi faint. Even when mi cry. Yu stay. Yu hold mi. Yu fight for mi time.”
His hand slid up to cradle the back of her head, fingers threading through her curls.
“I will never look away from you,” he said, voice rough. “Not for a second. Not for anything.”
She smiled, small, tremulous, but real.
“Dat why mi trust yu,” she murmured. “Yu see mi. All of mi. And yu still stay.”
Ravial exhaled a long, slow breath that moved through his whole body.
“I see you,” he said quietly. “And I will keep seeing you. Until the last breath you take… and beyond it, if I have to.”
Leitana’s eyes shimmered.
“Yu scary when yu talk like dat.”
His lips curved just barely.
“You like when I’m scary.”
She laughed softly, the sound muffled against his throat as she nuzzled closer.
“Only when yu scary for mi.”
The car slowed, pulling up outside the sleek glass building where Willow’s shoot was in full swing, lights flashing, music pulsing, assistants darting like bees.
Ravial’s hand slid to her thigh, squeezing once, grounding, possessive.
“Ready, little lamb?”
Leitana nodded against him, heart pounding but steady.
“Ready.”
He opened the door, stepping out first, then offered his hand.
She took it, small fingers lacing with his larger ones and let him pull her into the light.
His wife.
In emerald green.
Walking straight into the lion’s den.
With the devil holding her hand.
And this time, he wasn’t letting go.