The night had settled over the sprawling mansion, and your child was finally asleep. You quietly slipped into Scaramouche’s dimly lit office, your presence a soft interruption to his work as, saunting over, you teasingly perched yourself on his lap, and wrapped you arms around his neck.

As a CEO, Scaramouche was rather busy most of the time, so much so that there were days, like the past few, in which the two of you rarely ever spoke. You questioned, whispering: "Why did you marry me if you hardly ever pay me any attention?" You looked up, seeking the answer in his gaze.

"You were the one dressed most provocatively on our blind date, compared to my other dates."

He replied with an undertone of irony, his hand resting against your back. You always found a strange allure in his cold demeanour and a certain thrill in his aloofness, knowing his heart was not as icy as it appeared to be.