Chapter 77 Jealous, Wife?
“T...the boss?” Leitana repeated, voice barely above a whisper.
The driver nodded once, eyes fixed on the road again.
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
She knew exactly who “the boss” was.
Ravial.
Her husband.
The realization sank through her like ice water, pooling low and heavy in her stomach. She’d thought she’d have hours—time to go home, shower, pray, maybe even rehearse what to say. Or how to hide it. The idea of lying to him twisted something deep in her chest, but now…
There was no buffer.
She was going to him now.
“How mi gon face him?” she breathed to herself, shifting anxiously in the leather seat.
The two men up front exchanged a fleeting glance in the mirror. She didn’t notice.
All she could think was: He’ll look into my eyes and know. He always does.
Fifteen minutes later, the car glided to a silent stop.
“We’ve arrived, Mrs. Ashbourne.”
A hand extended to help her out.
Leitana looked up—and up—at the gleaming skyscraper piercing the night sky.
ASHBOURNE GLOBAL.
The letters burned gold against black glass, towering, inescapable.
“Ma’am,” the guard prompted softly.
She blinked, cheeks heating with embarrassment, and took his hand. He helped her out, released her instantly, then guided her to a private elevator tucked in the underground garage.
The doors whispered shut.
Silence pressed in.
She stood between the two silent giants, feeling impossibly small, pulse roaring in her ears. The ascent felt eternal.
When the doors finally opened, cold, conditioned air kissed her skin.
They emerged onto a vast, pristine floor—white walls flawless, marble floors gleaming like black ice. A single sleek desk sat off to the side, unoccupied.
For a moment she thought this was his office.
Then they walked on.
Ahead: frosted glass doors.
CEO
ASHBOURNE
Her breath snagged.
The guards stopped.
Leitana turned, confused. “Yu not coming?”
“No, ma’am,” the taller one said.
Her throat closed.
“Mi can do dis,” she whispered, more prayer than confidence.
She closed her eyes, drew a shaky breath, and pushed the door open.
“...Yes, sir, I’ve scheduled the—”
The woman’s voice cut off.
Leitana froze in the doorway.
A slim, polished assistant leaned over Ravial’s desk—hips angled toward him, blouse straining, top buttons deliberately undone, skirt tight and short. She straightened slowly, turning just enough for Leitana to see the calculated smile freeze on her face.
Heat flooded Leitana’s cheeks. She dropped her gaze to the floor.
“Mi sorry,” she stammered. “Mi shoulda knock…”
“Get out.”
The words were quiet. Lethal.
Leitana’s heart plummeted. Tears stung instantly, she thought he meant her.
Before she could step back, sharp heels clicked past her in a cloud of expensive perfume. The door opened and shut again.
Silence.
Confusion swirled.
Then—a firm grip closed around her jaw, snapping her face upward.
Her curls flew across her cheeks. Her pulse exploded.
“You thought I’d speak to you like that?”
His fingers tightened just enough to tilt her chin, forcing her eyes to his. Behind the dark blindfold, his gaze burned, cold, sharp, and utterly obsessed.
Leitana’s breath trembled. “I… mi no know. Mi sorry for interrupt—”
He didn’t let her finish.
His thumb traced her jaw, slow and deliberate, sending sparks racing down her spine. A faint, unhinged smile curved his mouth, the kind no one else ever saw.
“My little lamb,” he murmured, voice dropping to that dangerous hush that made her knees weak. His free hand slid around her waist, yanking her flush against his body. She gasped at the hard planes of him—broad chest, coiled power, heat searing through his shirt. “You think I’d ever dismiss you? You walk into any room and own me. The rest?” His lip curled. “Dust.”
Her cheeks burned hotter, butterflies rioting in her stomach. That mad, worshipful tone in his voice, it terrified and thrilled her in equal measure. He was darkness incarnate, but for her, he burned.
“Yu… yu send her away,” she whispered, glancing toward the door, jealousy sharp and new twisting inside her. “She was… so close.”
A low, dark laugh rumbled against her chest. “Jealous, wife?” He leaned in, lips brushing her ear, breath hot and teasing. “She’s nothing. You’re my wife. My sweet, innocent obsession. I’d raze this entire city to ash for you.”
His hand slid up her back, fingers tangling in her curls. He tugged—gentle but firm—arching her neck. His mouth found her throat, open and scorching, teeth grazing just enough to make her whimper.
“Ravial… mi sweaty. Mi just come from class…”
“I don’t care,” he growled, the calm cracking, raw hunger bleeding through.
In one effortless move, he lifted her onto the desk. Papers scattered like startled birds. His hands shoved her sundress up her thighs, cool air kissing bare skin.
Leitana’s breath hitched. She clutched his shirt. “What if someone come in?”
“Let them,” he said, voice a wicked promise.
Then his mouth claimed hers—deep, devouring, tasting of power and madness. She melted into it, world shrinking to the heat of him, the storm of him, the terrifying certainty that whatever he felt for her could destroy them both.
He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against hers, breath ragged.
“Tell me about your day, little lamb,” he whispered, thumb stroking her cheek almost tenderly.
Then, softer, colder:
“Every. Single. Detail.”
His grip on her hip tightened, subtle, warning.
“And don’t leave anything out.”
A pause. His blindfolded gaze bored into her soul.
“I always know when you’re hiding.”