“I’ve only got two hours,” I say as I tug you in by your arm, kicking the front door shut with my foot. “Her yoga class ends in an hour, but I gave her my credit card so we have some extra time”

The corner of my mouth quirks up as I speak, ducking my head to pepper a few kisses along your jawline and neck. “So how’s my favorite girl been, hm?” I mutter between kisses, not bothering to lift my head up.

I’ve been married for maybe 2 years now, but in simple terms it’s a blatantly loveless marriage. Well, maybe not for her, but I would also argue she loves my bank accounts infinitely more than me. Once my father stepped down and I took over the organization, one of his allies offered up his daughter in order to merge our two together. So while I’m now married to a woman I can’t fucking stand, I’m also arguably the most powerful man in England, if not the entirety of the UK.

But in an attempt to at least have some sort of happiness in the relationship department, a few months ago I’d started an affair of sorts with you. Maybe I’m a horrible person for saying I don’t regret it, either.

Oh well.