His Obsessive Claims, Her Twisted Submission

"Who's the latest bride in town?!" Alyssa spoke into her phone she was using as a fake microphone. Sapphire palmed her forehead. "Oh geez." Alyssa pointed the phone towards Sapphire. "Sapphire Smith!" Sapphire raised her head and looked around the mall. Lines of clothes filled the section. Few people were in the wedding dress section, and those few people were glancing at them. Probably thinking a bunch of weirdos—no, mad people came to shop for a wedding dress. "You're embarrassing me." "You? You call this an embarrassment? Hold on." She turned towards the people. "Hey! Everyone! Look who's the—" Sapphire sprang to her feet and covered Alyssa's mouth with her palm. "Tone it down, you loud psycho," she whispered, flashing the people who were looking at them a fake, all-good smile. "Free me, Sapph," Alyssa muffled. "Until you promise me that you're gonna keep your screams to yourself. This isn't your home where you go all crazy. For the sake of the upcoming wedding, this is a mall." The way the sentence came out, one would think she was explaining it to a little child. "I'm gonna keep quiet," Alyssa muffled. "You sure?" She crossed two fingers and pointed them towards Sapphire. Sapphire didn't want to trust her, but that's their symbol of 'I promise.' She released her mouth. "Mad bitch." Alyssa clicked her tongue. "I'mma have to bite your hand next time." Sapphire threw herself on the sofa. "Can't let my bestie ruin my name before I get married." "Get ya lazy ass up. The wedding dress won't pay for itself." Sapphire got her phone. "Working, Jack, no play makes Sapphire a lazy girl." "Sitting all day and calling Wilson makes Alyssa bored." "Jealous freak," Sapphire hummed, dialing Wilson's number, saved as My Soul. Sapphire looked at her with a fallen face. "What did he say?" Alyssa raised her index finger. "No, don't tell me. He didn't answer." "He hung up." "Well... I'm not surprised. Got the looks, yet a workaholic. You better pray he doesn't turn your big night into a conference meeting." Sapphire pocketed her phone. "I'm not bothered. He still makes time for me." "You don't know." Alyssa tucked her hands into her pants. "Won't be surprised when you need a good d**k and he isn't available." "Not everyone is gonna be a s*x freak like you," Sapphire countered. Alyssa removed her hands from her pants. "We all have the right to have fun, and mine is d***s. Thick and fat... I want 'em all." "What do I do with you, Lyssa?" Sapphire said with an 'I'm sick of you' expression. "This is a mall!" "Know I didn't study law, but I know there isn't anywhere in the law that states I can't talk about my s*x life anywhere." Sapphire palmed her forehead and gave up. Arguing with Alyssa, your loss. She'll always do anything to prove her public display of filth is worth it. "You ready for the shopping now?" "I'm standing, you're sitting. Who's more ready?" "Gosh!" Sapphire stood. The owner walked up to them. "The latest bridal gown has arrived. Would you like to take a look?" "Exposing cup? Tight waist? Great ass view? Does it tick all the boxes?" Alyssa said, scrolling through her phone. The owner raised her brows, staring at both ladies in confusion. Sapphire faked a chuckle. "Ignore her. We'd like to see it." The owner nodded. "Come with me." She left. Sapphire turned to Alyssa and threw her a death glare. "I only asked a question. What's with the glare?" "Who asks questions like that? Did you see the confusion on the woman's face?" "It's your wedding we're talking about, but I'm the most bothered." Alyssa hung her arm around Sapphire's neck. "Picture this." She moved her palm in Sapphire's face as if opening a dimension. "In your attire that highlights your curves. So sexy that I won't even remember breathing. Wilson standing at the altar. Don't you want that when you look at his pants, you'll see his d**k bulging hard?" Sapphire quickly shook Alyssa's arm off her. "You don't think about anything else." She began heading towards the direction the mall owner took. "Hey." Alyssa trailed after her, still scrolling through her phone. "Have you heard the news?" "What news?" "Your fiancé's elder brother returned." Sapphire stopped walking. "Wilson has an elder brother?" -- [7PM] The streets of Las Vegas buzzed heavily. Unlike any other street that gets quiet as nighttime reached, Las Vegas always looked like the day had just started. Crazy lights were stacked in the nooks and corners of the road, making it look like the moonlight was useless in the area. Cars were moving up and down the streets, and amongst them was a dark grey Lamborghini Aventador. It rode smoothly down the road, passing many shops and houses. It got to a particular one, and the car slowed down. "Would you like to go in, sir?" The driver wound down the window to the back. The person turned to the building. His hair covered his forehead, revealing only his deep blue eyes. Those eyes locked on the building as he scanned it for some seconds. His long finger tapped the window bar with slow precision. "Drive on." The window wound back up in slow motion until it closed, his deep blue eyes reflecting brightly on it. The car increased its speed and continued down the street. Not less than fifty minutes later, it arrived in front of a building. "Sir, we're here." The person at the back shifted his gaze to the building—blinding lights. The next thing that caught his attention was the engraved name at the top of the gate. DeVille Empire. The gate opened on its own after scanning the car and the people inside. It's an automated gate that doesn't need a gateman. It's set up to recognize the regular people who go in and out of the house. The gateman has his house beside the gate, watches the gate, but never opens it. Lucky him. The Lamborghini drove into the compound, taking about three minutes before it got to the castle built in the name of a house. Without turning off the car engine, the driver came out of the car and rushed to the side. He opened the door, and the person waited for a few minutes before stepping out. Immediately, the breeze brushed his skin. He felt it. The luxuriousness of the air. It still had that usual scent. Money. Unlike the lights that blinded the place, giving off colorful vibes, his clothes contrasted with them. Black well-ironed slacks, with a black shirt tucked into his pants. The sleeves were rolled up to his mid-arm. He only started walking in when the driver drove the car to the garage. The workers instantly stopped what they were doing, everybody's attention going to him. They all bowed to him as he walked past them, his ears catching their tiny whispers. "Who's that?" "Don't tell me you can't recognize him. Look at those blue eyes." He stopped, and his voice came out so calm and controlled. "Gramps Marco?" "In the study," one of the helpers replied, everybody's eyes widening at the confirmation of who he was. "Only one person calls him that." "He's Sir Tristan?" "He's back." He took the stairs, one step at a time, looking like he was walking so slowly, while in reality, the stairs were very long. There's an elevator, but he always chooses the stairs. Anytime. The more helpers he passed, the more they stopped what they were doing. One doing the cleaning slipped. His calm-looking blue eyes looked up at the nameplate above a huge brown door. Old Marco DeVille. Taking a minute of his time, he stared at it before placing his palm on the biometric scanner. Scan successful. The door creaked open on its own, and he waited for it to fully open before walking in. The first thing he noticed was the brown mahogany table, the light, the stacks of documents on top, and the man sitting behind the table. He was going through one of the documents. Next were the shelves that lined up and the brown color of the room. Not a single change, except the brown got thicker. "You didn't remove my biometrics?" He announced his presence because, if anything, he knew the man was aware. "Should I have?" The man closed the document, then looked up. Nobody talked again. The room was thick with silence as both men scanned each other, noting how they had changed after so many years. "Welcome back home, Tristan." Tristan's face softened a bit as he walked close to the empty chair and sat. He looked at the man's face, his eyes noticing the few grey hairs in his hair. "Age still hasn't reached you, Gramps Marco." The man laughed a bit, Tristan catching sight of his teeth. Still complete and white. "I was waiting for you. Would you have liked seeing me old and weak? Your Gramps is still strong." "I don't doubt that," Tristan replied and checked the time. "Are you sleeping here?" "I came here on your insistence." Marco's lips lifted. "It's been sixteen years, and you didn't consider returning for once." "I'm here now. Shouldn't that matter?" Marco cleared his throat, his brown eyes hovering over Tristan, a look which Tristan quietly recognized. "You look different...calmer." "Isn't it what the DeVille's wanted?" Tristan replied, calmly. "I get it," Marco's lips stretched. "And I like it." "Still keeping your hair long?" "I'll get it cut after the wedding." He adjusted his position, preparing to stand up. "I will get going." "It's your younger brother's wedding eve tomorrow," Marco said. "Isn't that why you insisted I come over?" He stood. "The rest will arrive shortly." "We'll meet soon." He began leaving. "Tristan," Marco called. He stopped without turning back. "The reason I called you back is for the wedding," he paused. "It's your younger brother's wedding the day after—it won't happen without you there." Tristan kept a blank face, letting his words sink in before responding. "It's the family's youngest child's wedding. Why won't I be there?"