CHAPTER 77: CONTROL

–Tyrona–

I know Alejandro. He loves me—dearly, even—but his eyes still wander. Especially when it comes to other women. And if it’s her again? Livana? I swear, I hate that woman to the marrow of my bones.

"Why do you keep looking at her?" I hissed the moment we got into the car.

"Well, isn’t she alluring?" he said, far too casually. "I’ve never seen purple eyes before. Actual violet."

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Hey," he chuckled and pulled me into his arms. "Don’t be jealous. I’m all yours." He kissed my temple, sweet like sugar-coated lies.

But I know better. I know he’s curious. I’ve watched him long enough to understand when something catches his attention. And Livana—of all people—would catch anyone’s eye. That porcelain skin, that strange mix of dominance and angelic grace. Even Damon—Damon, the most sinfully handsome man I’ve ever laid eyes on—is obsessed with her.

"So, you’re mesmerized now?" I folded my arms across my chest like a barrier.

Alejandro laughed as he gave the driver the signal to go. "I’m more intrigued by what she actually does. I don’t think she’s just some brat playing underworld princess."

"She’s not a brat," I muttered. "I don’t think she was raised that way."

"But that’s exactly why I’m curious. The way she moves... how she runs things. It’s calculated."

I rolled my eyes, but inside, I was fuming. Boiling. Simmering in pure loathing. Will Livana steal Alejandro from me too?

I can read him—easily. He’s already thinking about her. Probably fantasizing. Men like Alejandro are dangerously easy to fall in love with, and I’ve played my cards right. I seduced him, teased him, fed his ego and intellect just enough to make him addicted.

But Livana? She’s like an antidote to the spell I cast over him. Or worse—a deadlier enchantment that snares everyone without even trying.

I hate her. I hate her to death.

"I swear, Alejandro," I said lowly, voice laced with poison, "if you so much as glance at her again..."

"Oh?" He smirked and wrapped his arms tighter around me. "Don’t be jealous again, my love. You already have my heart."

"Hmm. Do I?" I scoffed, arms still crossed.

He smothered me with kisses, like some desperate fool. I tilted away with a smirk, dodging him just enough to make him want me more.

Play harder, Tyrona. He’s still yours—for now.

–Damon–

It’s annoying. No—infuriating. The way that man looked at my wife, like he was undressing her with his damn eyes. She was wearing a proper dress, even had a coat draped over her shoulders. Modest. Elegant. Still, his gaze was filthy.

I tossed my coat over the laundry basket with more force than necessary. She turned her head toward me, sensing it.

"Oh, dear. What now?" she asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"You didn’t see how he looked at you," I muttered, jaw tight.

She laughed softly—graceful, unaffected—as she slipped off her coat and extended it toward me. I took it without a word and hung it neatly on the rack.

"Pick up that coat," she ordered casually. I obliged like the good husband I pretend not to be. I even knelt, took off her shoes, and peeled off those little plastic protectors she insists on using to keep her soles clean.

Of course, she thought of that. She’s meticulous. She treats her shoes like treasure. I wiped them down, set them perfectly by the rack. Every movement, an act of devotion.

I followed her into the bathroom, just in time to see her undress in front of the mirror. I grinned, already planning to mimic her. But she turned to me sharply.

"Husband?"

"Yes, love?" I answered, eyes glued to her chest—only to groan inwardly. She was still wearing a damn brassiere.

"Can you please brew some chamomile for me?"

"I can do that later," I shrugged.

"I want it now," she said with that tone—firm, irresistible.

I nodded and headed to the small bar in our room where the kettle sat. Just as I turned the dial, I heard the bathroom door click shut. I paused.

She locked it?

I walked over and grabbed the knob. Definitely locked.

"Babe?" I called.

"Prepare the damn tea and don’t interrupt me," she shouted from inside.

I sighed. My chest tightened with a sting I didn’t want to admit was hurt. She really hates me sometimes. Or maybe I’ve just been too clingy lately. Too much. Yeah, probably that.

I focused on the tea. Set up her favorite blend, laid out her favorite book, even began picking a negligee for her to wear. Something sexy. Something new. Something she hadn’t worn yet.

I was still sifting through lingerie when my phone started vibrating like crazy. I groaned, pulled it out, and answered.

"Kai?"

His voice was frantic. "Bro, this is bad. Whatever Livana planted in Sophia’s bag... it’s bad news."

"I’m sending backup—"

"Yeah, do that!" he cut me off.

I could hear the echo of gunfire in the background. Was he calling while running?

"Shit, more backup’s showing up! It’s the Bishops!" Sophia’s voice snapped in the distance.

I froze.

The Bishops?

I’ve heard of them—ghosts in the underworld. Shadows. They made my boys look like amateurs. Livana’s genius of a mother must’ve made contact with them when she was still building her empire. And now her daughter’s doing the same. The Bishops... legends. And apparently not so mythical anymore.

The bathroom door creaked open. My wife stepped out, calm as ever, hand on the knob.

"Hello, baby!" I grinned and hung up, grabbing the negligee I’d picked. "Wear this!"

"Take a bath first," she said, extending her hand.

"Yes, ma’am." I handed it over and rushed to the bathroom, flipping the shower on full blast. Didn’t even bother adjusting the temperature.

"You could at least use soap!" she yelled from outside.

I sighed and did as told, fast but thorough. If I was going to enjoy her tea time with her, I had to clean up—her rules.

I dried off, threw on my robe, and tossed the towel into the laundry basket. When I returned, she was already seated, sipping her tea in that negligee, a robe lazily draped over her shoulders. She looked divine.

I sat across from her, grinning as I poured myself a cup.

"Babe..."

"Hmm?"

"I was curious... That thing they’re after—it had a tracker, right? Why not just destroy it?"

"I already disassembled it," she said calmly. "It’s just an empty shell."

"Oh."

"They saw it on the X-ray. That’s why they’re after Sophia."

I blinked. My wife, always three steps ahead. A criminal mastermind wrapped in silk and skin.

"Why did you send her there?"

"That’s where my assassins are."

"Ohhh..." I sipped my tea, grinning like a fool. She stimulates me in every goddamn way. I love her.

"I’ve got a proposition for you," I said.

"Interesting," she said, tilting her head toward me, even though she couldn’t see me. "But it’s a no."

"Bummer." I stood and leaned over her, kissing her head, then the other side, then finally her lips. "Let me get dressed."

She made a noncommittal hum as I yawned. Sleep was crawling up my spine like vines pulling me down. I changed into pajamas, dried my hair quickly, and climbed into bed beside her. She was lying on her side now, facing me, sipping the last of her tea.

"Let’s sleep," I murmured. I reached out, scooped her into my arms. "Chamomile works wonders for insomnia."

I tucked her in, kissed her lips. She shifted away slightly but still faced me.

I stared into those violet eyes... like amethysts. Something clicked in my head.

Wait a second.

"Did you drug the tea?" I asked, squinting.

She smirked. "Seems like it’s working."

"Babe..." My voice was heavy now, lips barely moving.

"Give me a break, Damon. We both need sleep. I need babies, after all."

"Fuck..." I muttered. "Then let’s fuck and make babies."

"Shut up," she groaned, turning her back to me.

I slid closer, even as gravity tugged hard at my body. I wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her against me. I reached for her chest, cupped it gently, kissed her neck.

"I love you, Livana."

She hummed in reply.

"Maybe sleeping potion is not so bad..." I grumbled.

"Sleep. Next time I’ll double the dose."

I chuckled weakly. Darkness was swallowing me whole, and for once, I welcomed it.

Yeah... I needed sleep.

–Livana–

Slipping a few drops of the sleeping solution into his tea worked like magic. He’s out cold, snoring softly. He’s been exhausted lately—restless too. Always hard. Honestly, I think he might be a sex addict. Or just deeply obsessed.

Now that he’s finally asleep, his usual vice-grip hug has loosened. I carefully sat up and reached for his phone, which had been ringing non-stop. I answered the call.

"Damon!"

"Kai," I said calmly, already slipping off the bed and walking barefoot toward the showroom.

"Wait... Livana?"

"Yes. Damon’s asleep. He needs rest."

"We need that too!" he hissed, clearly stressed.

"Then find them—the mastermind. And once you do, feel free to finish it," I said with a smirk. "I’ll have Logan send the link once everything’s in place."

"Liva..." Kai’s voice lowered to a whisper. "Are you trying to get us killed?"

"Of course not. Your life’s far more interesting with me in it, isn’t it?" I chuckled. "Now relax. I already sent backup—my Pawns included. You’ll be fine, Kai. I’ll even treat you to whatever you want, I promise."

"...Fine, fine." He hung up.

Still smiling, I glanced down at Damon’s phone. His lock screen? A photo of me—sleeping like some serene little angel. It’s supposed to be flattering, but honestly, looking at myself like that feels... unsettling.

I swiped up—and gasped.

His wallpaper?

Me.

In a white bikini.

What the actual hell.