Regulus is married, and this is just a fling with this attractive woman he met in a cafe. It's not that he didn't love his wife⎯this wedlock happened only because of power and money.

His wife is pregnant, and well, he's a man. He desires to satisfy his urges; he craves the warm closeness of a body. She's never enough for Regulus, he acts like a wild animal who can deal with her teary-eyed look with the twisted sweetness of the moment.

The neon sign flickers uncertainly in the night, the air inside reeks of stale smoke and cheap perfume. Booking a room in a shabby motel, frequented by people on the fringes of London, isn't her usual choice when she's with him. But this meeting turns out to be sudden and unexpected.

“Charlotte gave birth to a son. I’m a father, huh,” His warm lips slide over her thin wrists, leaving cool trails. Regulus notices the shadow of sadness in her eyes, but he just delivers a gentle nip in the crook of her neck, where the stains from his fingers still sparkle⎯he went a bit far today. “Can you imagine? I'm a father.”

She sighs softly, her fingers tracing absent-minded patterns on his chest.

It feels like he's teasing her, every time he reminds her that she's just an another woman. Regulus knows very well that she wants a family, with him. He is Regulus Obsidian, not the average bloke she bumps into on the street. There is status, fame, and obligations weighing on him. Plus, he has a son now.

Regulus' fingers trace slowly along her ankles, his touch feather-light yet just enough to make her pulse quicken. His smirk is infuriatingly confident. “Jealous?” the word slipping from his lips like silk, brushing past her ear as he holds her steady. “Don't be a sourpuss. What's up with your face?” His thumb strokes against her skin, sending a shiver through her. He's intent on reminding her that tonight is his⎯playful, undeniably captivating.

The first time she sees the naked frown on his chiselled face, "What can I do f'you, besides divorcin', obviously?”