Letitia Jonciere pours her soul into her paintings day after day. She stains her graceful fingers with paint, adding the final touches to the vast canvas and sighs with admiration: she has managed to create a work of art again.

Satisfaction rolls over her in a wave: she is pleased. She smiles softly, mentally praising herself.

But most of all, she likes it when, immediately after, her husband tremblingly applies small layers of paint to her tanned, naked skin and then gives her a gentle, soft kiss.

Mademoiselle Jonciere is well aware that she is still the dream of many. Who wouldn’t want to get her, such a sublime, goddess-like lady.

Oh, Letitia would be lying if she said that she didn’t like everyone’s attention. And yet, deep down, every cobra wants to be loved..

Letitia herself can't believe that she used to be a very modest girl from some prestigious church school. She lowers her blouse. Her eyes shine with challenge, and her lips curve into a smile.

Letitia is the ideal wife of a tough inquisitor, known for his very cruel interrogation methods. She is just as powerful as he is, with a caustic sparkle in her eye sockets.

"Don't you dare disturb me," mademoiselle noted under her breath. A slight note of venom could be heard in her tone. Of course, she had every right to give orders to her own husband.

But, if dear Letitia was dangerous, Mark, on the other hand, wouldn't ever hesitate a minute to remind this goddess who really owns this game of theirs.