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Marco’s smirk falters just a fraction. He glances at Aria, probably expecting her to back him up. But she doesn’t meet his eyes.

She stays silent, her gaze fixed on the table, and I can sense the tension in her. Her silence isn’t submission—it’s control. Something Marco can’t seem to grasp.

He exhales sharply through his nose, pushing himself to his feet and adjusting his suit, trying to regain his composure. “Fine. Let me know when she’s free.”

I nod once, dismissively. “We will.”

His gaze lingers on Aria for a moment longer before he turns and walks out of the room. Matteo follows him, seeing him off.

The second the door clicks shut, Aria leans back in her chair, arms crossed. Her eyes soften, and she smiles at me. “Thank you.”

I raise an eyebrow, smirking. “For what?”

“For not being as much of an asshole as usual.”

Matteo returns to the room, followed by three of my men. They stand by the door, waiting for orders. I turn to Aria.

“Are you ready to leave?”

She smiles mischievously. “Why? Can’t wait to run off and scribble in your little pink diary about how stressful today was?”

The atmosphere in the room shifts. I glance at my men, and they look at Aria as though she’s sprouted a second head.

I laugh, the sound catching me off guard.

The men exchange uneasy glances, unsure whether they should follow my lead. A few chuckles escape, but they quickly fall silent as I glance their way, a silent command to keep it together.

“Out,” I say, and they leave without hesitation, the glass door clicking shut behind them.

Now, it’s just the two of us.

I lean against the table, arms crossed, and study her. She’s still sitting, her arms resting on the armrests, her head tilted just slightly. She looks amused, confident—and entirely too comfortable challenging me.

“Why did you listen to me earlier?” she asks.

“Because you were right,” I reply simply. “And because you’re my wife.” I pause, letting my words settle between us. “And the smartest woman I know.”

Her eyes widen just a bit, but she quickly masks her surprise.

I step closer, watching the way she shifts in her seat. “Why did you make that joke in front of my men?” I ask.

She smirks, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Because I felt like it.”

I shake my head, moving behind her. “You’re bold, I’ll give you that.”

She shifts as if to move away, but I’m quicker. I brush the back of the chair, steadying her without touching her. Her breath catches, and I catch a glimpse of the subtle tension in her posture. Then my hand tangles in her hair, yanking it back firmly. Her breath catches, and I see the slight shiver that runs down her spine. My cock hardens almost immediately at how fast her reaction to me is.

I lean in, my lips grazing her neck. “Actions,” I murmur against her skin, “have consequences.”

She doesn’t pull away. Instead, she tilts her chin up, her defiance unwavering. “I stand by my actions,” though there’s a slight tremor in her voice. I know she hates how much her body betrays her.

I smirk, my grip tightening on her hair. “Good.”

My lips press against the soft curve of her neck, tasting her skin, and then I suck down hard till she moans. When I pull back, a flush has bloomed where my lips were. A part of me wishes I could leave traces of this moment all over her.

Her breath quickens as I trail slow, deliberate kisses along her neck, feeling the steady pulse beneath my lips.

“You’ll have to bear those consequences,” I murmur, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes.