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I kept wondering if she had somehow caught wind of the dark plot swirling around her and her sisters. But if she had heard anything, I was sure she would have mentioned it. If she had discovered the secret meeting, I would definitely be in trouble.

Perhaps I should bring it up and get it over with. But wouldn’t that make things worse? All I wanted was for the tension to disappear.

No, it would be better to remain silent about the meeting. My goal was to protect her, to shield her from the chaos. Informing her about it would undermine everything I had planned.

Breaking the silence, I attempted to steer the conversation back to normal.

“So, what did you do today?” I inquired, taking a tentative step into dangerous waters.

Her response was curt. “I met with a contractor.”

Curious, I probed, “Why?”

“The basement is leaking,” she explained. “It needs to be fixed. I also thought we could use the opportunity to make a few changes.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Really? Like what exactly?”

“It’s very dark, cramped, and musty down there. We could open it up, add some lighting, and make it more inviting.” She paused, then added, “And that large, unused space at the end of the hall? I believe it would be perfect for a gym.”

“A gym?” I echoed.

“For MMA,” she clarified, with a spark of excitement. “Cali and I need a dedicated space to train. We’ve had to work outside, and when it is cold, an indoor setup will be a lifesaver.”

“Oh, right,” I said, nodding, thinking for a moment, and then continued, “So, you’re indicating you want to spend more time in my dungeon, huh?”

I shot a wink to lighten the atmosphere at the otherwise serious dinner table, but I sensed nothing would ease the tension and invite a more relaxed mood.

“Don’t get so excited,” she smirked. “I’m not exactly into BDSM.”

Her statement felt like a challenge and my cock took notice, growing harder by the second.

“Why not? A little light spanking never hurt anyone, did it?”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Does the idea of me submitting to you excite you?” she taunted, knowing I’d take it more like a challenge.

I moved closer, leaning in as I whispered, “Does the thought of me taking control excite you, Laya?”

My question hung in the charged air. I remembered those distinct moments when she melted into passion. The way she allowed herself to be pinned with her hands raised, the subtle parting of her thighs when I asked for more, the instant hardening of her nipples as I claimed her.

At this unremarkable dining table, even her faintest gasp revealed her true feelings. She tried to brush off my efforts, her objections veiled in subtle disdain.

“Of course not,” she said, avoiding a straightforward response as if it didn’t matter. “I’m not a woman who needs to be controlled, Niko.”

I couldn’t suppress the slight curve of my lips. Perhaps she only let her guard down when the doors were closed.

“Controlling someone and being in charge aren’t the same thing,” I countered, adding to the dark edge she skated on.

“Is that what you think?” she snapped.

“Yes,” I admitted, unable to hide my conviction. “I’m the one in charge here, dear wife. Don’t you ever forget that.”

Her anger boiled over. “I am in charge of myself, dear husband!” she exploded as she threw her napkin onto the table and stormed toward the door. “I won’t let anyone control me. Not you, not anyone.”

Before I could say anything else, she was gone.

I called out, “Laya!” but she had already melted away into the night.