Housewife
: Chapter 20

“The hell do you mean I’m not going?” My blood boiled with rage as I protested, refusing to let him have the upper hand. ‘Listen, I don’t want you to go anywhere, which means you’re not going. It’s a simple instruction,’

Saint declared with a darkening gaze. Ordinarily, I would have acquiesced without a second thought, but something within me rebelled against his autocratic pronouncement.

I refused to surrender my will to him, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had the power to decide for me. It was like telling a child not to touch something; of course, they touched it anyway, just to defy the order. It was a natural human impulse, and I refused to be controlled like some puppet on a string.

At first, I had no desire to attend the event, which was precisely why I had come to speak to Saint. But as he sat there, casually commanding me with his formidable presence, my stubborn streak kicked in. I found myself grudgingly agreeing to go, simply to prove my point.

Damn, his big balls and his smug demeanour.

I’m hyper-aware of how his heated gaze drags me over to him. “Understood Irena?” But the dark twist of his mouth implies how much he knows that I will not listen to him whatsoever.

“Why aren’t I allowed to go? You’re going and obviously, if you don’t attend the ball with a mistress you’re setting a bad image on your name.” I implied, not daring to break eye contact even though I am shaking on the inside.

Saint tilts his head to the side, amusement flashing in his eyes. “Someone did their homework.” he teases and I roll my eyes at his comment. “Just answer the goddamn question Saint.” I barked out of annoyances that began to spark in the crack of my bones.

With a subtle tick in his jaw, Saint stands up and makes his way towards the mini bar stationed at the end of the office, nestled among rows of dusty vintage books. The room falls silent, save for the soft sound of his impressive footsteps. He reaches up to the top shelf, retrieves two sleek glasses, and pours a glimmering amber liquid from a bottle also on the shelf. I am transfixed, watching his every movement as he mixes the drink.

Finally, Saint’s attention turns to me as he approaches, two glasses of liquid courage in hand. He pauses, mere inches away from me, offering one of the glasses. Our eyes meet as we knock back the first sip, the liquid strong and fiery as it slides down my throat. I can’t help but wince at the taste, but Saint downs it in one swift gulp, placing the empty glass on a nearby table.

I quickly took a whiff of his masculine scent that I quickly grew to love it.

Not to be a creep or anything but my God Saint smells heavenly.

While staring into his divine beauty the brutality and sadistic manner dangerously shadows his features.

‘If you go, those men will try to claim you in seconds and you know how possessive I get,’ he warned.

My brows furrowed in disgust and I cringed at his words. ‘First of all, I am not an object to be thrown around by horny men. Secondly, I make my own decisions and I want to go to that ball,’ I retorted bitterly.

‘Who said you’re an object?’ Saint asked nonchalantly.

While he hadn’t explicitly referred to me as an object, he had certainly implied it. I chose to remain silent.

‘I’m going,’ I declared firmly.

‘No, you’re not,’ he barked back.

Despite my strong desire to react impulsively, I know that I must temper my anger and respond with reason. This man, infuriating as he may be, cannot be allowed to see the havoc he wreaks on my emotional stability.

I approach him with quiet assurance, my head held high as I stare him down. ‘You may be Saint, the all-powerful and feared man of the criminal underworld, but you do not hold sway over me,’ I declare, my voice ringing clear. ‘I am not yours to command, nor will I tolerate your attempts to control or protect me. Do not mistake my compliance for submission.’

A smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth, a glimmer of wickedness shining in his eyes. He saunters past me, taking a seat behind his desk with a calculated air. His features remain placid, but I can sense the darkness that lurks beneath. He regards me thoughtfully, weighing his next move.

“You amuse me, Doe.” His lips curve upward in a smug smile, revealing the slightest hint of amusement. As my eyes lock with him, I can’t help but feel a sense of curiosity as he runs his fingers over the scar I inflicted upon him.

With the deep, masculine resonance of his voice, he adds. “Really amuse me.”

The way his gaze intensifies, igniting with a pang of fierce hunger and malicious intent, leaves me wondering what secrets lie within the labyrinth of his mind.

‘Do not call me Doe,’ I demand, Saint unleashes a throaty chuckle that resonates deeply within my chest. It’s in moments like these that my vulnerabilities become apparent, and I begin to question the turbulent desires that bubble beneath the surface.

I know I shouldn’t trust him, but my body responds in ways that I can’t control, even as my hatred for him dwindles day by day. The all-consuming desire that consumes me is both exhilarating and terrifying, and I can’t help but loathe myself for feeling this way.

‘In any case, whether you approve or not, I’m going, Saint. If you’re not alright with that, feel free to pucker up and kiss my ass,’ I say with a sassy tone.

Saint’s gaze drops to my legs, and he cocks his head to the side as if trying to catch a glimpse of my ass. ‘Oh, I will, soon,’ he replies nonchalantly, causing my cheeks to flush with a sudden rush of heat.

Drumming his fingers on the table, Saint appears deep in thought as I make my way towards the door. With one last glance over my shoulder, I exit the office with a decisive push of the door. Once outside, I take a deep breath and slowly exhale, rubbing my clammy palms against my jeans.

“There you are!” I heard a distant female voice and turned towards its origin to see Nirali approaching me. ‘Oh thank God, I thought you left me alone with them. They’re such a handful,’ Nirali exclaimed, and I nervously smiled. ‘I’m sorry, I had to talk to Saint,’ I explained as we left Saint’s office and descended a flight of stairs. ‘What did you two discuss?’ Nirali inquired, and I shrugged. ‘Just the ball; nothing significant.’

‘I’m relieved you two didn’t have a fight,’ Nirali jokes. ‘Yeah,’ I muttered as we walked into the living room.

As for me, I was on the brink of strangling Saint.

The day of the grand ball has arrived.

Saint and I haven’t revisited the issue of my attendance, but I refuse to let it dampen my spirits. Come hell or high water, I’ll be gracing the occasion.

As I gaze into the mirror, I gently wipe away the mist to reveal my reflection. I radiate cleanliness, having recently emerged from a shower and pampered myself with moisturizer. Time to work on my hair and makeup.

Instead of approaching Saint with inquiries about the theme or dress code, I reached out to Nirali. Her skills prove invaluable – she’s my guardian angel.

After finishing my makeup, I expertly pulled my hair back into a high, curly bun using gel, while leaving a few wispy curls framing my face. My look was complete with a touch of smoky eyeshadow, nude lips, and a pop of lip gloss for added drama.

As I pondered what to wear to the ball, I rifled through my closet, feeling a mix of anticipation and dread. Unfortunately, I couldn’t replace anything that fit the rose gold and black theme, despite my best efforts.

Annoyed with me for not asking for help, I almost gave up hope until a gentle knock interrupted my thoughts.

‘Come in,’ I called out, the anticipation of the mystery within the door tantalizing me. The entrance creaked open and glided one of our household attendants cradling a mysterious black parcel.

‘Mrs. Dé Leon,’ the gracious woman began, carefully placing the oblong parcel down upon my bed, ‘Your husband has tasked me with giving you this gift.’ I eyed her curiously as she departed, leaving me with the enigmatic parcel.

Trembling with excitement, I unzipped the velvety black cover and beheld a stunning dress wrapped neatly within. The sight of it prompted a visceral gasp to escape my lips, as my eyes drank in the exquisiteness of its gold and diamonds. The elegant form-fitting design, bedecked with trails of delicate silk and ornate lace, was simply breathtaking.

I was beyond honoured to receive such a sensational dress, so superbly crafted and worth a fortune, that my thoughts began to dance, surprised that I’ll be wearing this beautiful gown. The golden hue complimented my complexion, and the dress hugged my curves like a second skin, making me feel both regal and seductive all at once. It felt like a true gift of royalty, exuding confidence and beauty far beyond anything I had ever worn before.

In a flash, I slipped into the dress and gazed at my reflection in the full-length mirror. The fabric caressed every curve, accentuating my cleavage with a subtle hint of seductive elegance. My golden mermaid dress pushed my chest out, begging to be noticed. The dress flowed out like blooming flowers, luxuriously laying against my legs as I twirled and took in every angle.

Eventually, my eyes shifted to the floor as I noticed my dilemma. With no time to spare, I contemplated which pair of heels to select – the sleek black pumps or the sentimental white heels from my wedding day. Finally, I surrendered to my heart and chose the white ones.

After spritzing myself with my favourite perfume and grabbing my purse, I gracefully made my way down the stairs, hoping and praying I wouldn’t take a tumble.

My gracefulness can be a hit or miss, especially in towering heels. With careful precision, I descended the stairs and gently brushed my hand over my flowing dress, experiencing the rapid fluttering of my heart.

“Irena.” A low voice spoke behind me. Slowly turning around, I was met with Saint’s lustrous gaze. His eyes devoured me from head to toe, tilting his head in admiration. My cheeks grew hot as my breath became shallow, our eyes locked in an intense stare.

Dressed impeccably in a sleek black suit and smooth tie, Saint held a box I had failed to notice. With silent steps, he edged closer leaving behind a trail of his warm, masculine musk.

“You are stunning,” he whispered and my cheeks blazed red in reply,

‘Thank you,’ I said, barely able to get the words out.

As Saint lowers himself before me, my heart flutters like a butterfly taking flight. The box he brings with him seems to hold secrets untold until he pulls back the lid revealing exquisite pencil heels adorned with glittering diamonds.

‘May I?’ he asks, his gaze locking onto mine. My head nods in silent agreement as he takes my right foot in his hands. Suddenly, the touch of his fingers against my skin ignites a flurry of stars across my body.

My senses are swept away as Saint deftly removes my current shoes and delicately slides the new ones onto my feet. The sensation of the soft straps against my skin lingers long after he rises to his feet. The heat of his body seems to wrap around me like a warm embrace, leaving me with goosebumps and a breathless ache in my chest.

‘Please, turn around,’ he spoke softly, and I complied, feeling a shiver run through me. Something cold gently brushed against my skin, causing my breath to catch in my throat. As I tentatively traced my fingers over the object, I lowered my gaze and caught sight of glistening diamonds wrapped around my neck. I turned back to Saint, a stunned smile spreading across my lips. ‘Saint, this is simply beautiful.’ I gushed, but he merely glided his hand over my back, wordlessly guiding me out of the house. Though I longed to say more, I held myself back, biting my tongue and allowing the luxurious necklace to speak for itself.

With a sleek black SUV rolling to a stop in front of the house, the driver steps out and opens the door for Saint and me. As we approach the car, Saint graciously allows me to enter first, and I sink into the plush leather seat. The air inside is rich with a crisp, clean scent, and the car hums with an electric charge before the driver brings it roaring to life. The low growl reverberates through my frame as we set out from the long driveway and onto the street.

I gaze out the window in awe as the sky transforms into a canvas of oranges, pinks, and purples, while the sparkling city in the distance begins to pulse with the anticipation of the night ahead.

The car ride was silent, a thick tension growing with each passing second as Saint and I exchanged uncomfortable glances. Even the driver seemed uneasy, stealing quick looks at us in the rearview mirror. Finally, we arrived at a towering brick building, a red carpet stretching out before us and flashing cameras threatening to blind me. Nirali had warned me about the paparazzi, but the reality of their frenzy was overwhelming. They were ravenous for any glimpse of Saint and his new mistress, the billionaire and his forbidden flame.

My mind was left stunned and still when the public’s accusations were thrown our way. Saint’s empire spanned multiple countries, boasting a portfolio that included trendy hangouts and cutting-edge technology. But it was all a facade for his dirty little secret – laundering money. Dé Leon, his company, had burst onto the scene in the early 90s by investing in up-and-coming businesses that are now household names.

As we entered the colossal building, a sudden chill crept up my spine.

The notion of turning tail and fleeing back to the safety of my home grew stronger with each step.

Saint draws near, his hand gently resting on the small of my back. ‘Stay by me,’ he whispers into my ear. A surge of emotion takes hold, and I gulp. ‘I’m feeling anxious,’ I admit, my gaze shifting to his face which is only a breath away from mine. ‘Don’t be. I’ll be here, always,’ he coos, his voice soothing my rattled nerves. In response, I nod.

As we approached the formidable doors, the imposing figure of the doorman observed us with a sharp eye. With a brisk nod, he swung the door open to reveal a maze of stairs leading to a destination unknown. My eyes drank in the ambiance of the interior as I alighted the first step. A classy, chic space with contemporary art adorning the walls and black tile flooring interspersed with pristine white walls. The crown jewel, a magnificent chandelier, suspended in the center of the ceiling, with luminous crystals that sparkled like the sun-kissed ocean waves. I inhaled deeply, taking in the grandeur and excitement of the moment, my heart pounding in my chest as I followed Saint. The winding stairs deposited us in a sumptuous ballroom aglow with the radiance of chandeliers hovering over the dance floor, casting an otherworldly gleam. The decorations were nothing short of awe-inspiring, with tables converging at each end of the ballroom swathed in black velvet, delicately arranged single gold roses, and dainty seating cards done in elegant calligraphy. Catching my breath, I stood in amazement as I watched people in their captivating finery and tuxedos talk, laugh, and dance to the soothing sounds of classical music wafting through the air.

As Saint and I took our seats at the elegantly adorned table, my eyes were drawn to the grandeur of the ballroom. The chandeliers sparkled like stars in the firmament, casting a warm glow over the room. Suddenly, a waiter came forth with two glasses of chilled white wine and placed them gently before us, before melting away like a ghost. I grasped my glass and took a sip, feeling a soothing chill run up my spine.

As the music faded away, an unexpected hush fell upon the room, signalling the arrival of a mysterious host who appeared on stage. He wore a sleek black suit and a shiny black mask that accentuated his sharp features, especially his prominent aquiline nose. But it was his piercing blue eyes that held the attention of the crowd, gleaming with darkness that evoked pure evil and left me quivering in fear. The very air seemed to shift as if a malevolent force was about to sweep over us, haunting our dreams long after the night was over.

As the evening unfurled, a thrilling announcement electrified the room, sparking a rush of excitement and joy. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, the moment we’ve all been waiting for has arrived! Thanks to your unwavering support and generosity, we’ve raised a staggering one million dollars to sway the fate of the Alberta Cancer Foundation and the World Food Programme. Oh, and guess what? We’ve tripled the amount we collected last season!’ The crowd erupted into thunderous applause, causing an uproar of emotions. The man on stage continued, adding, ‘This season has seen some extraordinary businesses soaring high in the stock market.’

Through the sea of dazzled faces, I caught Saint’s gaze, and his eyes were fixed firmly on the stage.

‘Unfortunately, we have encountered some obstacles, including traitors who have attempted to undermine one of our prominent crime families.

We have apprehended those responsible and it is time to administer justice, demonstrating that we will not tolerate such conduct.’ With a cool and collected demeanour, the man before me flicks his head, beckoning a line of five hooded figures to be thrust onto the stage, and forced to kneel before the crowd.

‘These five individuals stand before you today accused of theft and deceit against our family. For months, they have fraternized with the very law enforcement we seek to elude, exposing our trade secrets involving illicit firearms, narcotics, border crossings, and street wars. Our timely capture of these turncoats kept us in control of the situation.’ The man concludes.

With a flourish, he whips a gun out of his suit jacket and levels it at the first man, whose identity is hidden behind a bag that shrouds his head. The gunshot booms through the walls, and my body convulses in shock at the sudden noise. No trace of blood mars the victim’s head as he crumples to the ground, lifeless. I stare, wide-eyed and incredulous, at the poker-faced crowd. They seem not to notice the carnage unfolding before them. One by one, the gun speaks with deadly force, until all of the targets drop. The man smiles a satisfied smile, tucking the pistol into his pocket with a quick, deft movement. With a graceful adjustment of his tie and collar, he turns on his heel and disappears into the milling crowd.

As I turned to look at Saint, I met his penetrating gaze. I was about to speak, but he beat me to it, his words delivering a sickening blow. ‘It’s our tradition,’ he explained nonchalantly. ‘Once we discover you’re a rat, we’ll eliminate your whole family and you during one of our grand events, and if you happen to have a daughter of 17 or above, they become the property of lecherous and depraved old men.’

A lump formed in my throat as I imagined helpless young girls being snatched from their lives and sold to the highest bidder. ‘What could possibly be the purpose of such a horrific tradition?’ I asked with revulsion laced in my voice.

Saint simply shrugged, lifting his glass of white wine to his lips. ‘It’s for fun, power, and wealth,’ he answered with a disturbing smirk. As I watched the aftermath of the latest assassination, my mouth went dry, and my stomach turned with abhorrence and disgust.

This is going to be one hell of a night.

From my seat at the table, I watched with fascination as the crowd went wild. True to his word, Saint had stuck to me like glue since our arrival. We kept our exchanges to a minimum, but whenever someone approached us –

or rather, approached Saint – I was his shadow.

The men were the worst. They talked and laughed and cracked silly jokes while their better halves stood awkwardly in the background, as if forgotten or even invisible. Despite my silence, the men barely acknowledged me, only doing so when Saint made an introduction.

It had been a mind-numbing hour of listening to these fools drone on about their mundane lives: businesses, sports cars, and prostitutes. The worst part was their arrogance as they bragged about cheating on their partners.

Every obnoxious word they spouted acted as a trigger, tempting me to grab a fork and stab them in their eyes multiple times. But of course, that would only get me killed, so I sat there, feeling useless.

‘Ah and who’s this lovely lady?’ A towering figure towered over us, his pepper and salt hair cascading down his strong jawline as he flashed us a million-dol ar grin. ‘This is my wife,’ Saint announced, his voice carrying a note of pride and possessiveness.

Thrilled that Saint hadn’t divulged my name to these strange, leering men, I focused on the bearded middle-aged man standing beside us. ‘You, sir, are one lucky man,’ he chuckled, eyes wandering over my body. ‘If only I could spend a night with her, I’d give up anything.’

Saint stiffened beside me, ready to defend my honour. ‘Watch your tongue, Diego,’ he growled, flexing his powerful muscles. ‘I’d have no trouble cutting off both your balls while fucking my wife in front of your dying, pathetic ass.’

A surge of heat coursed through me at the thought of Saint dominating me while his rival perished at our feet. But part of me couldn’t help feeling uneasy at the violent urge coursing through Saint’s veins.

Diego quivered like a leaf in a hurricane as he gingerly cleared his throat, his nervousness palpable. A sheepish grin crept across his face as he addressed Saint. ‘I am deeply sorry, Saint,’ he stuttered, as his eyes swam with apprehension. But Saint was having none of it. ‘Apologize to her,’ he barked, Diego’s gaze met mine, and I couldn’t help but notice beads of sweat trickling down his forehead.

‘I beg your pardon, Mrs. Dé Leon,’ he stammered, desperation creeping into his voice. ‘I didn’t mean to disrespect you in any way. I have had a lot-‘

But Saint cut him off, his patience wearing thin. ‘Stop whining, you’re giving me a headache,’ he snapped, pinching his nose bridge. Diego scurried away like a hunted animal, his heart sinking with regret at his foolish mistake. I let out a light-hearted chuckle, imagining what would happen if a grown man peed himself in front of us.

But Saint’s expression was far from amused. ‘No one disrespects you and gets to live another day,’ he growled, a fierce glint in his eye. His protectiveness sent shivers down my spine, and I knew that I was in capable hands.

I fidget in my seat, feeling the weight of the room bearing down on me.

I raise my new glass of rich, velvety red wine to my lips and take a sip, the liquid warming me from within. After my third glass, I’ve lost track of how much I’ve consumed. It’s not the healthiest of coping mechanisms, but in moments like this, it’s my only solace.