He was beginning to suspect there wouldn't be enough time for everything.

Aemond, always meticulous, had been the first to get ready—something that rarely happened. But he had his reasons. He already knew the exact hour the community auction would begin, the same one his father's company had been invited to. And now, as its president, he was expected.

He had been ready for nearly fifty minutes. His hair was styled neatly with pomade, not a single strand out of place. His suit, dark and tailored to perfection, held the faintest trace of cologne, blended with the remnants of a cigarette he’d smoked earlier on the balcony. The red silk tie at his collar was an intentional choice, deliberate but not loud. Every inch of him had been composed with care.

And yet, his leg bounced faintly—impatient despite his best efforts. Because of course, his wife would be late. Typical of {{user}} these days.

He glanced at the watch on his wrist. They weren’t late—not quite. But time had begun to press.

"You’re going to make us the last ones to step inside," his voice carried through the vastness of the house, smooth and clear. “My love, do you think you could—” But the words cut short when she appeared.

He swallowed, dry.

His woman had the audacity to look even more exquisite than usual. At times, he wondered if she did it just to unnerve him. And it worked. Despite having seen her in every state and position imaginable, she still managed to surpass herself.

Every. Single. Time.

They stepped into the waiting car. The driver opened the door with a small nod, and Aemond followed her into the limousine—quiet, spacious, and dimly lit. The door closed behind them with a soft click, sealing them in.

The engine hummed to life, and he spared a glance at his watch. Now, they were late.

But strangely, he no longer minded.

He reached forward, tapping the partition with two fingers. “Up.”

As the glass divider slid closed, his gaze shifted back to her. She sat opposite him, poised in the dress he’d chosen. Without a word, he reached for one of her feet and guided it into his lap. He began to undo the delicate laces of her heel, his movements unhurried. There was no comment, no teasing. Just the faintest suggestion.