EX-HUSBAND'S BOSS FOR VALENTINE

DINNER

MELANIA:

“It’s beautiful,” I say, forcing a smile as Royal takes my hand.

“I’m glad you like it,” he replies, leading me to the elegantly set table. He pulls out a chair for me, and I settle into it while he takes his seat across from me.

Royal grabs a bottle of champagne, the label shimmering under the terrace lights. With a twist, he pops the cork, and the sound echoes into the night. He laughs, and for a moment, I just watch him. Looking at him is like viewing perfection. It’s baffling that someone like him—so polished, so effortlessly charming isn’t in a serious relationship. For all I know, he is straight, so there must be a reason, one I may never know.

Maybe he’s just picky, or maybe love isn’t something he prioritizes. Or maybe I’m reading too much into it, and it’s not my place to ask. I probably should mind my business.

“Melania.” His voice snaps me back to the present, his warm hand grazing my palm, and as usual, I hold a smile on my lips. “I wanted you to have a taste of it first. It tastes like diamonds,” he adds, sliding his hand away from mine.

He pours me a glass of champagne and hands it to me. I take a sip, letting the crisp taste linger on my tongue. I don’t need a soothsayer to tell me it is Goût de Diamants.

“It’s good,” I say, staring at the bottle as if I have never seen it before. “Thank you… for organizing all of this.” I sit straight, looking at Royal, who shakes his head.

“No, I should be the one thanking you,” he says in a soft voice. “I’ve spent sleepless nights because of this case, waiting for it to be over. And now, it finally is.” He leans back slightly, holding my gaze. “You’re fully my wife now, and I don’t have to share.”

A flicker of hope rises in my chest as he says this, but it dies down shortly as he continues. “That means I can finally focus on claiming my rightful place in my family. So really, Melania, you’re the one to thank.”

He raises his glass.

“To us.”

I hesitate for a moment as one hand grips my glass while the other holds the stem, which grows heavier with each second I lift it into the air. Our glasses clink, and I force the words out of my mouth.

“To us.”

I watch as he brings his glass to his lips, sipping it, while a familiar weight presses on my chest. It happens to me when I start worrying about the life I cannot control. The feeling mirrors that of an elephant sitting on one’s chest, and as I sit there staring at Royal, Brady’s words slither back into my mind. No one will want you.

It sends a rush of panic to my heart, causing me to inhale sharply as I feel like I can no longer breathe.

He was right, wasn’t he? Royal is only using me. Not that I didn’t agree to it, but it hurts that this marriage is just a means to an end—a stepping stone for him to regain his position as heir. Once he has what he wants, I’ll be left with nothing. I will go back to being loveless. I will become the girl who can never have it all because all the money in the world can never buy me my one true love.

Tears shimmer at the corner of my eyes, and I do not even realize it until Royal calls out to me.

“Melania, are you okay?” he asks, and I choke out a laugh as I allow the tears to fall.

“Yes, I am,” I blurt out, then get to my feet. “It’s… it’s tears of joy.” I lie as I burst into more tears, which rhyme to the rhythm of the music. And I do the only thing I know how to do best—dance.

Grabbing the glass of champagne, I down it all at once, then pour some more, taking the glass to the center of the room, swaying my body to the rhythm of the music.

Royal sits there watching me, a smile hanging on his face, and I do not stop. I mean, I had one too many drinks at the bar, and I was on the edge of getting tipsy, but thanks to the champagne, I have gotten to the exact spot I need to be. I also do not need his pity when he finds out I might be in love with him because I am just a stupid woman who falls for a man who gives me the bare minimum.

“I didn’t know you could dance,” he says, and I shrug as I finish the contents of my glass.

I pour a third glass and down it in front of him. When I reach for the bottle, he takes it away from me, grabbing my hand and getting to his feet. He walks around the table until there is no barrier between us, then he pulls me toward him, allowing my back to press against his chest.

His hands grip my waist, steadying me against his body, and I feel my pulse racing as his breath falls on my neck.

“Let’s dance,” he says as he guides my body slowly to match the rhythm of the music.

I am doing well for a few seconds until all I can hear is the heavy silence between us. I sway against him, pressing my back further into his chest, feeling his unmistakable hardness. His fingers tighten slightly, as if he’s holding himself back.

“You smell so good,” he murmurs against my ear, sending a sensation down my body, and I feel my core muscles tighten.

“Thank you,” I whisper, tilting my head slightly, exposing more of my neck to him.

Royal exhales sharply, his fingers sliding from my waist to my hips, pulling me in closer. I gasp at the friction between us as my pulse hammers so loudly that it feels like drumming in my ears. His mouth lingers near my neck, his breath teasing me. My fingers instinctively reach up, gripping his hands as I arch slightly against him, craving something I shouldn’t. The champagne buzzes through my veins, heightening everything I feel.

“Royal…” I whisper, not even knowing what I’m asking for.

He turns me around in one smooth motion, and suddenly, I’m facing him, his dark eyes locked onto mine. My heart slams against my ribs as his gaze dips to my lips, then back to my eyes. I should stop this meaningless s*x we have every single chance we get, but a part of me doesn’t want to, and as his hands frame my face, tilting it up, I shut my eyes, waiting for his lips, which capture mine shortly after.

The kiss is consuming, knocking the breath from my lungs as his mouth moves against mine with raw intensity. I melt, my fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more.

Royal growls low in his throat, lifting me effortlessly, his hands gripping my thighs as he carries me backward. He moves blindly, never breaking the kiss, until we collide with the table. His hands reach for the tablecloth, causing glass and silverware to clatter to the floor, but neither of us cares. The sound barely registers over the pounding of my heart.

Then he places me on the table, stepping between my legs, his hands gripping my thighs, spreading me open for him.