Housewife

My feet pound the floor like an accelerating heartbeat as I flee down the hall. Saint’s footsteps sound like a determined drum beat, relentlessly pursuing me.

‘You sure do have this tendency of running away from me,’ Saint declares as he materializes beside me with a smirk.

I shoot him a stony glare. ‘And why shouldn’t I? My husband is a lethal killing machine.’

‘You don’t have to explain. But I could list a million reasons why you shouldn’t,’ Saint boasts, brimming with confidence.

With an exasperated huff, I pick up the pace, but Saint’s legs are like lasso ropes, drawing him ever closer.

Stopping beside a pair of burly guards, Saint barks out an order. ‘Check the restroom and send medical aid ASAP.’

the guards scurry away, and I continue towards the looming double doors that lead to the ballroom. My heart races like an earthquake, but the scene that greets me is calm and eerily normal.

The gunshots were deafening but it seemed like nobody around me noticed. My mind was racing with the possibility of danger lurking around every corner. Suddenly, a voice breaks my concentration, sending tingles down my spine.

‘Something’s troubling you,’ a male voice whispers seductively in my ear.

My heart races as I turn around to face Saint. ‘No one heard the gunshots,’

I blurted out.

He sighs. ‘Most of the walls in this building are soundproof. It’s a safety precaution apparently.’

I furrow my eyebrows in frustration. ‘But what happens when we’re randomly attacked or jumped by the police? This is ridiculous.’

Saint shrugs before declaring, ‘I agree. Whoever owns this place is a complete idiot.’

I trail behind him, content with being his shadow. As we walk, someone bumps into me. Ready to lash out, I suddenly recognize who it is.

‘Abel.’

As Abel’s eyes lock with mine, a flicker of recognition dances across his chiselled features. His guard drops and a tender smile creeps onto his lips.

But before we can exchange any pleasantries, a blur of rose gold and curves materializes beside him. It’s Nirali in a dress so stunning, it could make even the heavens gasp. The mermaid cut hugged her curves in all the right places and her makeup accentuated her natural beauty flawlessly.

As she glides towards me, I can’t help but feel a twinge of envy. But my envy quickly fades as I realize just how genuinely happy I am to see her. And she clearly feels the same as she reaches out for a hug, only to restrain herself at the last second, mindful of my boundaries.

And as we stand there, basking in each other’s radiance, Nirali erupts with a compliment so effusive, it ignites an inner glow within me. I jokingly fan myself, trying to hide my delight, but she sees right through me and returns the favour by acknowledging my own beauty. It’s moments like these that make me appreciate her like a friend.

Nirali is quite the stunning woman – Abel is surely blessed to have her as his own. Suddenly, as if out of the blue, Saint creeped up behind me. My entire body tensed up at the surprise visit.

‘I honestly thought your ugly ass wouldn’t make it.’ Saint quipped. ‘I wasn’t going to come but Nirali wouldn’t stop bugging me because she wanted to see your crazy wife.’ He explains. Nirali let out a gasp and playfully nudged Abel’s arm. ‘Don’t call Irena crazy, it’s mean.’

Abel managed to sneak a quick glance in my direction before resuming his conversation with his wife. ‘My apologies, Angel, what I meant is psycho wife matched with psycho husband.’ Nirali’s glare immediately fell upon Abel, causing him to shrug before planting a tender kiss on her forehead. Rolling her eyes, Nirali returned her attention to me.

‘Has the auction already started?’ Abel queried Saint, only to receive a shake of the head in response. ‘Not yet, but it will start shortly.’

My features contort with a frown at the mention of an auction, causing all eyes to fixate on me like a swarm of curious bees. ‘What kind of auction?’

I inquired, my curiosity piqued. ‘It’s centered around this year’s theme – gambling.’ The response prompts an exchanged glance between Nirali, and I before she simply shrugs in response.

‘Shall we?’ Abel poses a query with an elegant hand gesture, inviting us to take our places. With a silent nod, they trail us to our designated seats adjacent to theirs. With poised composure, we settle in while the waiter gracefully delivers martinis to each of us before gliding off.

Abel’s gaze slides to Irena’s dress, an eyebrow quirked in curiosity. ‘I’ll just bypass the blood stains on your dress, Irena,’ he comments, a sly hint of humour in his voice as he takes a gulp of his drink. Suddenly self-conscious, I blush and hastily adjust my dress. Nirali can’t help but glance around the table, searching for answers. ‘What happened?’ she inquires, her eyes darting between Saint and me, caught in a whirlwind of curiosity and suspense.

‘You know Nirali, someone like you should not be asking such questions considering-‘ Saint’s words are swiftly halted by Nirali’s sharp retort. ‘You know Saint for you to try and bring my issues up shows that your heart is as cold as my room and I can’t feel my toes in that room, so it’s bloody cold.’

she snaps with a bitter edge. Exasperated, Saint rolls his eyes. ‘Your insults are akin to those of a child in nursery,’ he states without bother, much to Nirali’s disgust as she takes a sip of her martini. ‘I’m fully convinced you never graduated kindergarden.’ she spits out disdainfully.

Abel and I couldn’t contain our laughter as we watched the drama unfold between the two of them.

‘I could eat a whole bowl of alphabet soup and shit out a smarter statement than whatever you just said.’ counters Saint with a bland expression, causing me to bite down on my lip to control my laughter. Nirali is quick to fire back,

‘I would tell you to go fuck yourself but that would be cruel and an unusual punishment.’ The atmosphere is tense between the two, but Abel and I can’t help but find it all incredibly amusing.

Saint let out a heavy sigh and shook his head with disappointment.

‘Everyone is entitled to act and say stupid things once in a while Nirali, but you really abuse the privilege,’ he lamented. ‘Okay, you two should seriously get a time-out.’ Abel jumps in and Nirali and Sint glare at him. ‘Shut the fuck up Abel, can’t you see I’m trying to have a mature conversation with your wife.’

Abel sets his martini glass down on the table, breathing in deeply before he can even speak. Suddenly, a voice echoes through the room, demanding silence. ‘Looks like even fate wants you to zip it,’ Saint jests before turning his focus toward the stage.

I turn to him in quiet amusement, noting the childish behaviour of the trio. ‘You’d think with your reputation, you’d hold a little more maturity,’ I remarked quietly, my eyes fixed on the performance. Saint lets out a resigned sigh. ‘All I can say is that I had to endure these two for seven years including those other two imbeciles for most of my life,’ he states. I turn to look at him. ‘Are you referring to Prince?’ I question and he nods. ‘Yes and another named Zoltan.’

Before I could respond the man on the stage began to speak.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, behold! The night we’ve all been waiting for has finally arrived. Tonight, our creme de la creme bachelorettes will grace the stage in all their glory, wowing the finest men in search of a wifely companion. From the most prestigious crime families across the world, these enchanting young ladies are sure to leave a lasting impression. Get ready to witness an unforgettable night, my friends!’ The announcer’s booming voice echoes through the room, riling up the men – with the exception of Abel and Saint.

‘With great pleasure, allow me to introduce our first entrant – hailing from the lush landscapes of England, only 19 years of age and a proud member of the infamous Lyons Crime Family… It is with immense pride that we welcome Miss Freya Lyons!’ With a flourish of his arm, the spotlight illuminated the beautiful blonde in a dazzling mermaid dress. But as she strutted proudly onto the stage, guarded by a dark-suited figure, the fear in her emerald eyes betrayed her apparent confidence.

‘Behold, all the way from Nigeria, a young gem. At 17 years young, she is the pride of Black Axe, the fierce Abebi Axe!’ The speaker announces with zeal, as the audience eagerly waits for the next girl. Suddenly, a woman with deep, rich ebony skin bursts onto the stage wearing a flamboyant red dress.

With each step, her voluminous afro bounces to the rhythm of her stride, and a forced smile rests upon her lips, like the previous contestant. However, her eyes smoulder with an intense passion, shimmering with tears that threaten to cascade down her cheeks, unnoticed. A guard shadows her, like the girl before her.

As the speaker introduces each girl, every young woman dons a red dress and the same fixed smile. But their eyes reveal a story untold; pain, fear, indignation, and a vast array of emotions that go beyond what their smiles can convey.

As I scan the stage, my eyes take in the beauty and intensity of each of the twenty women on the platform. They all stand tall and proud, their ages varying from 17 to 20, but their undeniable spirit and resilience is a common thread connecting them all.

My stomach churned with revulsion as they commenced the auction of the ladies.

‘Polina Sergei, now the property of the notorious drug lord Mr. Ruiz, for the staggering price of $1.5 million!’ The words boomed through the room, eliciting cheers from some and sighs of disappointment from others.

When I turned to Saint for support, he was already watching me, his gaze intense. ‘This is beyond sickening,’ I muttered. Saint exhaled loudly. ‘These people are all deranged. The depths of the criminal underworld are much darker than you can imagine, Doe. And this auction is only the tip of the iceberg.’

A shiver coursed down my spine at the thought of what unspeakable events must have taken place in prior years’ balls. I was eager to ask more about such atrocities, but a voice in my head cautioned me against seeking out further knowledge. It was better, perhaps, to remain somewhat ignorant of the depths of human depravity.

As the auction stretched on for what felt like an eternity, the women were gradually claimed by the lecherous bidders with greedy smirks stretched across their faces. The air was thick with dread, and the room was illuminated only by dim, flickering candles.

Looking over at Nirali, her gaze was heavy with sorrow, a reflection of the wretchedness surrounding us. But as I observed her, it was clear that what lay beneath that sorrow was a sense of empathy. It was almost as though she felt each girl’s pain on a personal level, making my curiosity about her only intensify.

After the horrific display, I couldn’t wait to escape and seek solace in a different kind of drink. ‘Want to get a drink?’ I asked and she nodded. ‘Yes please.’

As I stood up from my seat, I informed Saint, ‘I’ll be with Nirali.’ He nodded, understanding my need to console her. ‘I’ll catch up with you after I speak with Abel.’

Without another word, I made my way through the crowd and Nirali walked alongside me towards the bar.

‘Interesting,’ Nirali says with a raised eyebrow as we perch ourselves on the barstools. ‘When did he start giving a damn?’ I shrug, feigning nonchalance as the bartender approaches. We order our drinks and as he disappears into the back, Nirali leans in with a probing question. ‘What took you and Abel so long?’ I inject some humour into our conversation, hoping to banish the tension that hovers, but Nirali’s discomfort is palpable. My eyes widen as the answer finally dawns on me and her cheeks flush crimson.

‘Oh, you mischievous minx,’ I playfully tease, causing Nirali to turn and chuckle nervously. ‘Is it that obvious?’ she retorts, crossing her arms in a sassy gesture. ‘Yes.’ I nod in agreement. My curiosity quickly kicks in and I eagerly plead, ‘Give me all the juicy details!’ like a giddy schoolgirl.

Nirali nonchalantly spills the steamy details, from their shower rendezvous to getting frisky in the car. My jaw drops as I gawk at her in amazement.

‘How are you not exhausted?’ I gasp, unable to fathom how she can keep up with her insatiable lover, Abel. ‘When it comes to having sex with Abel, exhaustion is never an issue,’ Nirali smirks, her eyes glazed over with desire.

‘We’re both addicted to each other and the sex is beyond wild. From sloppy kisses to choking sensations and wet encounters, every moment with him is a feverish blur.’ She groans as if reliving the intense moments, biting down on her lip and rolling her eyes with pleasure.

With a subtle throat-clearing, our bartender hands over our drinks and shuffles away. Nirali and I exchange a knowing look before bursting into a fit of laughter.

‘Girl, you are insatiable,’ I tease, taking a sip of my intoxicating beverage.

‘If your man can keep up, there’s no wrong time for a little romp in the sheets.’

I mentally shake off the thought of my steamy encounter with Saint in the bathroom.

‘Yeah, I wouldn’t know.’ I sigh. ‘I guess you just need a little push to make the first move.’ She says.

‘But I’m not doing it just for the fun of it. We are trying for a baby.’ She announced.

Before I have a chance to finish my thought, a familiar, sultry voice interrupts us.

‘Am I interrupting ladies?’

Recognition washes over me like a wave, and my once-animated face falls flat, robbed of any hint of emotion.

Grzegorz.