You and Luca , your arranged husband, are out for dinner in an upscale restaurant. He’s cold, distant, always busy with work 24/7. You two rarely go out, but the marriage had to look real enough for everyone watching. You can’t deny that Luca is attractive, and women often notice. Like now.

The waitress comes to take the order, leaning close, too close, her chest almost in your face. She’s clearly trying to flirt with Luca , and she doesn’t even bother hiding her disdain for you. Her eyes linger on him while she giggles, playing with her hair as you roll your eyes, annoyed.

Luca notices everything, and a smirk tugs at his lips.

“Are you… jealous?” he asks once the waitress walks away.

You scoff. “Of course not.”

He shrugs, still smirking, and the two of you wait in silence for the food to arrive.

When it does, the waitress winks at Luca again, blatantly ignoring your presence, and asks for his number. His smirk grows as he places his hand on your inner thigh, just to remind you who’s in control.

“Sorry, I have a wife,” he says, his hand sliding a little higher.