I don’t have any candles.
You do now. What’s mine is yours, husband.
I threw my head back and let out a loud groan as a new text arrived.
We are out of milk.
Shoving the phone into my pocket, I entered the lift, trying to compose myself. She was just bored. I couldn’t be irritated with her because I’d left her alone all day with only Big Toni, I mean Belio, outsidethe door.
The moment I walked into the penthouse, a gust of heat melted my face. Belio looked overcome with relief to see me as he wiped sweat off his forehead.
“Why the fuck is it so hot in here?” I growled, storming towards the thermostat to find she had turned it up to an insane temperature for an autumn evening in Italy.
“She said her feet were cold. Also, there have been a number of deliveries, Boss. ThingsSignoraBuccini ordered." He gave me an odd look. "All checked and secure.”
“Grazie, you can go.” I nodded at him, and he immediately chucked off his jacket while waiting for the lift, desperate to escape the sauna before he passed out from overheating.
“Arianna,” I called, moving to the bedroom first to find her clothes spewed everywhere as if she had been reorganising the dressing room but became distracted mid-way through. I walked inside and stopped dead.
All my pristine, tailored black, white, and grey shirts had been replaced with bright, flamboyant silk abominations that belonged backstage at a theatre production. I stared, trying to decide whether she just had catastrophic taste in men's clothes or she was deliberately trying to get a reaction out of me. I walked back into the messy bedroom and my eyes caught on the new hot pink, lacy underwear set on the bed, along with the mammoth pink strap-on, lube, and anal toys. There was a note next to them.
If you change your mind, husband. I think pink's your colour.
I covered my eyes with my hand, feeling a migraine coming on. Belio would have signed off on the delivery of this shit. No wonder he looked at me as if I’d grown a second head.
I picked up a half-drunk coffee mug from the side table and headed for the living room. More insanity followed. Another four half-full coffee mugs, which I dumped into the sink, and I spotted the jar of milk on the counter, left out of the fridge. So we needed more milk because she forgot to put it back?
I shook my head, turning to assess the unwelcome changes she’d made to my home. The main ones were fairy lights hanging around my art canvases, weird decorative objects like a single fake lemon in a bowl, and scatter cushions fucking everywhere. I picked one up with a frown.Good Vibes Only.Another.Live, Laugh, Love.
Fuck my life.
“Arianna!”
“In here!”
I twisted, turning towards my slightly ajar office door. I pushed it open andstared. My office was no longer the same room I’d left it. The desk had been pushed up against the wall, and every surface had been cleared and replaced with candles and burning incense sticks. The lights were dimmed, and in the middle of the room was my wife, wearing tight leggings and a sports bra, balancing on a pink foam mat in a strange position to music that belonged at some hippy wellness retreat.
“Oh, you’refinallyhome,” she breathed, not looking at me but moving into a squat. “Murder anyone today, husband?”
“Not yet. But there’s still time.”
“What was that? You were mumbling?”
“Nothing. I did show you the gym, right?” I asked, pointing my thumb over my shoulder. “It’s just down there.”
“The vibes are all wrong in there. This room has a much calmer energy. It’s perfect.”
“It’s my office,” I stated evenly, just in case that small point had completely bypassed her brain.
“There’s enough space for it to be both an office and a yoga studio, don’t you think? Sharing is caring.”
I closed my eyes. Took a deep breath. Where was Cher when I needed her?
“This is my office, Aria. I need this space to… work. To think. You’ll have to find somewhere else to breathe and balance.”
She ignored me, exhaling a slow breath as she stayed in her squatting position. Being a warm-blooded male, I found my frustration slipping into horniness as I took a proper look at her. Her ass looked fantastic in those leggings, and her tits… that sports bra was barely holding them in. I leaned against the doorframe, folded my arms, and watched.
“So what do you call this pose?”
