EX-HUSBAND'S BOSS FOR VALENTINE

WHAT HAVE YOU BECOME?

Melania

“I see you are hell bent on going to Africa,” he says, and I nod, dropping my fork on the plate. “Now that I think of it, we can actually go to both places. I mean, I have unlimited money, and I am the heir, after all.”

Hearing him brag in front of his brothers feels a little weird. I understand they must have done something to hurt him, but it comes out a bit cringe.

“Okay,” I breathe, trying to stuff my face with my meal.

As soon as we finish breakfast, Rob and Roger stand to leave. They exchange pleasantries with Royal, and each gives Beatrice a hug.

“Thanks again for hosting us, Grandma,” Rob says as they make their way to the car park.

“Happy married life, brother.” He wraps his arms around Royal, giving him a good hug, before he shakes me. “Welcome to the family, Melania.”

When they get into their cars, we wave goodbye, watching them speed through the long driveway lined with perfectly manicured flowers leading to the gate.

After they leave, Royal turns to Beatrice.

“We should get going. I am behind schedule,” he says, and she scoffs.

“Busy, busy, and never thinking of spending time with me. If it were left to me, I would award Rob or Roger the position. At least they come to me once in a while, but you—” she groans, and he sighs.

“I am sorry, Grandma, and I will loosen my schedule so that I can come see you more often.”

She gives him a cheeky smile before tugging on his cheeks slightly. When she lets go, Royal takes my hand, leading me into the house and up the stairs.

“We just need to grab our phones, and we’ll be on our way.”

**

Shortly after leaving the Montclair residence, we get to Royal’s house, and—holy s**t—it’s just as massive as the family estate.

I wonder if I would have had a house this size if I’d decided to follow the family's ways. Heck yes, who am I kidding? We’ve been in competition with the Montclairs for as long as I can remember, and at the moment, we’re about a hundred dollars richer than they are. It sounds ridiculous, but the rivalry between both families has gained a lot of attention—even Forbes has been tracking our finances down to the last digit.

One time, the Montclairs led by a single cent for an entire year, and my dad was so pissed. I was just a kid then, but I will never forget it.

“We’re here. Your temporary home,” Royal announces as I step out of the car.

There are servants on standby, waiting as though we arrived with a massive load of luggage, but it’s just me and a small bag with my phone in hand. They greet us warmly, and I pretend to take in the environment like I’ve never seen anything like this before.

“Wow, it’s really beautiful. I can’t believe I get to live here.”

He scratches the back of his head when I say this. “Oh.”

“Well, if you want it, then you can have it.” He adds.

“Really?” I ask, and he shrugs.

“I’m putting you through a lot. You deserve everything,” he replies before making his way toward the door. I follow closely behind.

I trail a step behind as he leads me up a large, spiraling staircase to a bedroom that is obviously his.

“Since you want the house, then this will be your room,” he says, standing in the doorway.

I raise a brow, teasing. “Not our room?”

His jaw tightens, almost making me laugh. “You can sleep wherever you want and leave me to take care of myself.”

I scoff. “How generous.”

Walking past him, I drop my bag onto the chaise lounge, exhaling sharply. I should be relieved we’ve agreed to never talk about last night. That’s what I wanted, but why does the thought of him putting distance between us feel so wrong?

Royal exhales sharply, watching me. “Do you need anything before I get to work?”

“Yeah. A change of clothes and a shower.” I glance down at my dress.

He nods toward the walk-in closet. “Pick a bathrobe in there, and I’ll get you some clothes from the other room.”

He leaves at once, and I don’t hesitate. Standing up, I stride into the closet like I own the place.

The space is massive, lined with expensive suits, and barely any casual wear. He really is Mr. Work. I make my way toward the section with bathrobes in different colors and grab one.

I unzip my dress, and halfway down, with the crack of my butt visible, Royal’s voice cuts through the air.

“Should I run you a ba—”

He stops mid-sentence, and I freeze.

Shit. I forgot to lock the door.

I hear him inhale sharply, but I don’t turn around. I feel his stare burning into my back, causing my hands to tremble slightly, and I lose my grip on the dress.

It drops to my feet.

I turn quickly, catching him staring—wide-eyed, like a man who just forgot how to function.

My heart slams against my ribs as memories from last night flood my mind. His chest rises and falls as if he’s forgotten how to breathe.

My gaze flickers downward, and for the first time, I see it—his hands twitching at his sides. The tension is suffocating, making it seem like he wants to touch me, and it’s killing him.

For a few long, unbearable seconds, Royal doesn’t move, or blink.

Then, suddenly, he jerks back, turns on his heel, and storms out.

The door slams so hard behind him that the walls shake.

I stand there, breathless, as my heart hammers in my chest, replaying the scene over and over.

Why didn’t he just walk away immediately? Why did he stay frozen, staring at me like that?

I shouldn’t be thinking about this, or care, but I do.

With a deep inhale, I drape the robe around myself and sink onto the bed, catching my reflection in the mirror.

“Oh, Melania… who have you become?” I murmur, tossing myself back onto the mattress.