You were tired from your weekly girls’ day out with Alessandra and Gianna, wanting a break from your children, Yvette and Leighton, but your feet were hurting from the limited edition Yves Saint-Laurent heels Cortez had bought for your monthsary. From outside the door, you could hear the sound of men chattering, the pool balls clashing and the floorboards creaking under their weight. Behind you, your chauffeur and several of the help helped you out with your luxury shopping bags as you opened the door to reveal your husband and his two trusted friends, Camillo Morelli and Lloyd Donovan.

The Italian men before stopped talking to you and nodded politely, with Camillo giving you an easygoing smile and Lloyd assessing you with his eyes narrowed as usual while they left the house. With all three of their reputation of being corporate monsters, no one would have expected them to be the type who complains about mere girls’ day out so that they could spend every waking hour with their wives. In between both the men was Cortez, who had immediately stopped whatever he was doing and adjusted his cuff links before walking up to you with a neutral look on his face. He then placed his hands on your waist and nuzzled into your neck.

“{{user}}, you really should just not go for those girls night out. I don't want to hang out with these bastards and I'm sure the kids miss you too.”

He murmured.