Housewife

Snow, a wondrous gift from nature, possesses a magical quality. It descends gracefully from the heavens, resembling an angel, and gently blankets the earth in a sweet, white layer.

As the wintry breeze sends shivers down my spine, I indulge in a sinful sip of steaming hot chocolate. Suddenly, the sliding door creaks open and disrupts the tranquil silence with the sound of heavy boots crushing the frost-covered ground. A warm and comforting aroma envelops me, and my heart skips a beat as I recognize the scent I adore.

Saint’s velvety voice echoes from behind, ‘You’ll catch a cold out here.’ His touch brushes against my skin, sending electric waves through my body. I turn, meeting his gaze, and feel his lips graze the side of my neck, igniting a flutter of butterflies in my stomach. ‘I’m snuggled under a blanket,’ I reply, my eyes fixed on the pristine winter landscape before me.

A serene silence settles between us. I am like fall leaves frozen in the frost, feeling the chill in my veins as it brings my thoughts to a halt.

I could grow accustomed to this peace. It begins to settle within us.

‘Tonight, there’s a poker event I’m attending, where men like myself gather to play. I want you to come with me,’ Saint proposes. I turn my head to look at him. ‘So, you want me to join an event filled with people like you?’

I inquire, feeling a hint of suspicion. Normally, Saint doesn’t invite me to social gatherings such as this, so what has changed? ‘Even though I typically don’t bring you to these events, I believe it would be wonderful to have you by my side tonight. Besides, I would feel more at ease with you there,’ he explains. ‘Can you provide a reason for this sudden invitation?’ I pause, contemplating. ‘Shall I remind you of the last poker game?’ He shrugs, ‘As long as they don’t overstep their boundaries with you or me, there won’t be any need for conflict.’ He states, and I shake my head. ‘I question your principles, Saint.’

‘Regardless, I want you to come.’ Saint rests his chin on top of my head.

‘Well, the other men will be accompanied by their wives, and since Abel is attending, Nirali will be joining as well. She doesn’t wish to be alone, so Abel requested that I bring you along.’ He explains. ‘It’s amusing how you’re asking me now. Typically, you would either exclude me or keep me uninformed.’ I remark.

‘Doe, I understand that Nirali is a friend of yours, so the decision to join me is solely yours to make,’ he confidently declares. It has been quite some time since I last saw Nirali.

With a playful smile, I respond, ‘Oh, look at you-‘ I playfully tease. ‘Don’t even start, Irena,’ Saint warns, but I can’t resist snuggling up next to him, resting my head on his chest. ‘The truth is, I want to make sure Nirali feels comfortable, so count me in,’ I confess. I could also mention that I want to spend time with him, but I’d rather not stroke his already inflated ego.

‘What time will we be leaving?’ I inquire. ‘Around ten.

As I contemplate what to wear, I realize that I have an overwhelming number of stunning dresses from Saint’s collection to choose from. I let out a frustrated sigh, but then decide to seek Saint’s fashion advice since he has an impeccable sense of style.

SAINT

‘Wait a fucking minute,’ Zoltan exclaims with a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. ‘You’re telling me that poker night is taking place at an upscale strip club?’

Prince raises an eyebrow in response. ‘Are you truly that enthusiastic about being surrounded by provocatively dressed women when you have a partner waiting for you at home?’

Curiosity piqued Nirali chimes in. ‘Zoltan, do you have a girlfriend?’

Zoltan grins mischievously. ‘Does it look like I have a girlfriend?’

Nirali assesses him, tilting her head to the side. ‘No, definitely not.’ Zoltan’s smile fades.

By my side, Irena stifles a snicker, earning her a subtle warning glare from Zoltan. An innocent smile dances on Irena’s lips. ‘Be careful how you look at my wife, Zoltan, or I’ll make sure you never lay eyes on her again.’

Zoltan dismissively shakes his head, followed by an eye roll. ‘Are you truly affected by her words?’ Prince teases, receiving a sharp reply. ‘Shut up,’

Zoltan snaps before hurriedly leaving the limousine.

‘Marriage is not in his future,’ Abel declares with finality, and we all turn to him with raised eyebrows. He playfully covers his mouth with his hand and adds sarcastically, ‘Oops. Did I just say that out loud?’

Nirali nods in agreement, her face filled with solemnity. ‘Poor Zoltan.

He has a habit of suppressing his emotions, even if it means a lifetime of loneliness and unhappiness.’

Interrupting their conversation, Prince emerges from the shadows with a gleam in his eye. ‘What about me?’ he eagerly inquires. ‘Do you think I’ll ever find love?’

Nirali hesitates, her face betraying her uncertainty. Abel jumps in with a quick save, warning, ‘I’d rather keep my opinions to myself on that one?’

Nirali chuckles softly in response, a heavy weight lifting off her shoulders.

Prince fixed Abel with a withering stare, as though able to look right through him. ‘Hell must be packed to the brim with people like you,’ he spat, his disgust palpable. Without another word, he flung open the door of the limousine and disappeared out into the night, leaving us stunned in his wake.

‘Well, you two definitely put a damper on things,’ Irena observed, trying to lighten the mood. Nirali merely shrugged, an enigmatic smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. ‘They might be grown men on the surface,’

she mused, ‘but deep down, they’re still just angsty teenagers – with all the accompanying mood swings and emotional sensitivities.’

Stepping out into the chilly air, I pulled my coat closer around me as a blast of wind cut through the darkness. Irena, on the other hand, looked utterly glamorous despite the cold, her long silk gown caressing the ground and a fluffy coat wrapped snugly around her shoulders. As for me, I was sticking to my trusty black tux and my gun holster – always better to be prepared for anything in this line of work.

The exterior of the building exudes an air of grandeur and opulence, with its black and white marble façade that speaks of wealth and power. Whilst approaching the entrance, the security personnel conducted a thorough assessment of my credentials before granting me access, with Irena beside me in a docile manner.

As we crossed the threshold, we were greeted by immaculate black tiles, a far cry from the inferior establishments in the vicinity. The well-polished floor tiles reflect the subdued lighting, adding to the atmosphere of dignified elegance. The walls, shaded in a somber yet sophisticated hue of grey, complement the overall aesthetic of the club perfectly.

Plenty of old married men occupy the booths with their wives sitting beside them as they watch the naked strippers dancing on their husbands’

laps. Meanwhile, other patrons engage in business discussions while indulging in their vices, puffing on cigarettes amid hushed music in the background, which vibrates discreetly through the walls without hindering conversation.

‘Dé Leon,’ a voice interjects behind me.

I turn to find Ace, a well-known figurehead in the western hemisphere’s illicit drug trade, scrutinizing me with deep-blue eyes and a contented expression. ‘This is unexpected, bumping into you.’ He trails. ‘It’s good to see you.’

‘Ace,’ I countered.

Ace, a member of the elite group that handles international shipping, is a master at the covert art of drug smuggling. In my former life, he was integral in helping me grow my business. Suffice it to say, Ace and I share a cordial relationship.

As he extends his hand toward me, a grin creeps up his face. But his attention is quickly diverted to the stunning Irena standing beside me.

‘I have the pleasure of being introduced to this beautiful lady?’ Ace inquires, his gaze locked on Irena. I feel a surge of envy course through my veins. But despite the bitterness laced in my tongue, I introduce my wife to him.

‘Irena, my wife,’ I say firmly, my arms tightening around her waist. I could feel my possessiveness oozing out. Irena looks between Ace and me, a hint of trepidation in her eyes.

Ace nodded and remarked, ‘I never thought I would see the day when Saint finally settles down with a woman. You are a lucky man.’ He beamed, and I shifted my gaze from Irena back to Ace.

Ace graciously smiles and states, ‘It was a pleasure to have met you, Irena.

Although, I must confess that I talked most of the conversation.’ To which Irena cordially replies, ‘Nice meeting you too.’

Ace nods respectfully and walks off.

Irena comments, ‘Compared to the people you have introduced me to in the past, Ace seems quite okay.’ I concisely respond and we proceed to our reserved table.

I hold Ace in high regard, as he is one of the few people whom I respect deeply. Hence, there is minimal probability of me putting a bullet through his head.

After arriving at our designated area, we take our positions alongside the group.

‘This is so erotic.’ Zoltan chirps and Prince rolls his eyes. The waiter’s arrival interrupts the awkward silence as he approaches our table with a tray of cigarettes. Despite his offer, we all decline except for Prince. The waiter expertly lights the cigarette placed between Prince’s lips before walking away. Prince savours the taste, inhaling and then exhaling the smoke with a contented moan. Zoltan expresses concern over Prince’s smoking.

‘You’re smoking again?’ Zoltan questions worriedly. Prince slowly turns his head to face him. ‘Well, yesterday night I was smoking again, and oh, look today I’m still smoking.’ He points out sarcastically. ‘Why is it a problem that he’s smoking?’ Irena questions. ‘Well, he is so addictive that he would choose it over, sex, money, po-“

‘Okay, Nirali we get it. Thank you.’ Prince cuts her off before taking another blow.

‘I ask all four of you to consider the importance of shutting the fuck up,’ I said firmly.

Whenever we meet, I always leave with a headache because of your childish behavior that is similar to that of young children.

‘Okay, Daddy dearest,’ Zoltan joked playfully while Nirali laughed loudly.

I massaged my temple while emitting a groan. Irena offered me comfort by stroking my arm and giving it a gentle squeeze as she leaned closer to me. ‘Come on, Saint, can’t you cut them some slack?’ she uttered beside me.

I turned to look at her and asked, ‘Do you have any idea what it feels like being in the same room as all four of them?’ Her eyebrows furrowed as she responded, ‘No, I don’t.’

‘I am certain that you will soon discover why I prefer to be in your company rather than theirs,’ I announced, causing her shoulders to droop.

Before she could respond, a waiter interrupted us. ‘May I take your order, please?’ He asked.

‘A whiskey and a martini,’ Abel articulates to the waiter, who proceeds to inscribe his order on his notepad. ‘May I have a glass of wine?’ Irena politely states. ‘As for me, I would like a whiskey,’ I add.

Prince interjects, ‘I would like to order whiskey.’ And Zoltan follows,

‘Martini.’ The waiter inquires, ‘Anything else?’

Zoltan sarcastically remarks, ‘Well, I suppose a glass of virgin blood would be fitting.’ The waiter’s countenance shifts uneasily, while we all gaze at Zoltan.

Zoltan observes the change in atmosphere and nonchalantly shrugs. ‘I feel sorry for you guys for not having a sense of humour?’ he quips.

‘That’s not funny man’ Prince retorts sternly, to which Zoltan responds with another shrug. ‘We all have our flaws,’ he mutters under his breath.

‘That will be all, thank you,’ Irena tells the waiter and he walks away.

‘How does your poker event typically unfold?’ Irena questioned, drawing my attention away from the group conversation.

‘We wait for everyone to arrive and then gather in the upstairs room. Some men bring their wives, while others leave them behind. The ladies watch us play, but you and Nirali can leave whenever you want,’ I informed Irena. She looked around the strip club, taking in the surroundings before asking, ‘Why are we in a strip club?’ I explained that each year, a different person hosts the event, and this year’s host must have had some ulterior motive. I personally disliked it and wouldn’t attend if it weren’t for the potential profits it brought to the business.

‘Have you ever hosted?’ She inquired. I shrugged nonchalantly, recalling a half-hearted attempt I made a few years back. ‘I suppose I dabbled in hosting, but ultimately my interest waned and I passed the offer onto Abel,’ I explained to Irena, who nodded in understanding.

As the minutes ticked by, the strip club began to brim with revelers. A sultry woman clad in scarlet lingerie beckoned us to follow her up to the second floor.

The curious and adventurous among us followed eagerly until we arrived at our destination. The space was dominated by a magnificent mahogany bar that stretched an impressive twenty-eight feet, while eight cozy tables with rustic wooden chairs completed the scene. In the background, tall bar stools were generously arranged for those who preferred to imbibe standing up.

The ceiling soared high above us, and while it retained the same aesthetic as downstairs, it was nonetheless impressive.

‘Alright shit heads, the moment we’ve been waiting for has finally arrived,’

exclaimed Zoltan with a devilish smirk. He downed his last gulp of whiskey with a glint in his eye as a seductive stripper slinked by. ‘Let’s get this poker party started!’

As we made our way to our designated booths, the anticipation and excitement in the air was palpable. Randomly assigned, our group found ourselves seated with our significant others. I couldn’t resist the urge to pull Irena onto my lap, and Abel followed suit with his wife Nirali beside him.

Rising from his chair with a cigarette in the corner of his mouth, Agu took two cards and shuffled them into his hand. Taking two more from the table, he offered one face down to each player before placing one card in front of himself. He threw out another card and did the same again, followed by a last card that he placed on top of the stack. With an electric charge running through him, Agu bent forward and dealt a second row of four cards from his deck before he dealt a third row. The tension in the room was almost unbearable as each man’s cigar burned closer to extinction. All eyes were fixed on that most mysterious of games: poker.

This man, a master of arms trading in Africa – his background is known to me even though we’ve never discussed investing in each other’s underground businesses. The infamous Dasukigate, a $2 billion arms procurement deal in Nigeria, led to the embezzlement of the funds through the National Security Adviser’s office under Colonel Sambo Dasuki – now that’s a name I know all too well.

Intrigued by his potential, he became the first character to etch himself into the pages of my mind’s eye, one that I would single-mindedly pursue an exchange in professional matters.

The tension in the room was palpable as the cards lay scattered upon the table, each one a crucial determinant in our fate.

It was like a battlefield, and only one soldier would emerge victorious. For the stakes were immeasurable, and the winner would take it all.

I noticed beads of sweat cascading down a man’s forehead who is sitting by my left as Abel sits by my right. Nam-Gil fidgeted in his seat. His leg trembled like a leaf in the wind as he reached for his deck of cards.

Agu Adefope, the brooding introvert in this circle apart from me lit a cigar and took a drag.

Nam-Gil felt his pulse racing as he fanned out his cards, guarded against prying eyes.

A victorious smirk spread across Agu’s face as he laid down the King of Hearts and Ace of Clubs.

Nam-Gil’s poker face remained stoic, devoid of emotion as his eyes glazed over. In that moment, smoke from the Cuban cigar enshrouded his form like a cloak, as he pondered his next move.

‘You alright?’ I ask Irena who quietly observes the scene in front of her.

‘Yes, although I do not understand what’s going on,’ she states and I give her thigh a gentle squeeze then return my focus to the game.

I picked up my cards and flipped them. 2 hearts and 8 hearts. ‘Like I was expecting anything better to happen to me.’ I cursed my fate and continued staring at the game.

‘I call 100,000, dickheads,’ shouted out Abel. He picked up his suitcase from the floor and locked it before showing everyone the 100,000$ cash in the suitcase, and looked at his card one more time. I peeked at his cards from the corner of my eye and noticed Ace of Diamond and Ace of Spade.

‘Can my day be any better?’ He was always brimming with confidence kissing Nirali on the cheek and presumed to play.

‘I am the king’, he kept telling himself. He gave one scornful look around and continued staring at his cards. Ace of diamonds.

My phone blared with a notification, pulling me from my thoughts. A quick glance revealed a message from my friend Zoltan.

Zoltan: How is it going?

Me: Terrible although Abel over here has luck on his side.

Zoltan: I’m rooting for him, it’s time for him to beat your ass.

Zoltan: Prince and I are getting bagged, it’s easy defeating these fuckers.

Abel was enveloped with elation as he began swaying his head from side to side, without even checking his cards. He then declared, ‘I see your 100,000’, and subsequently closed the case, placing it on the floor beside him.

Nam-Gil burst into laughter before proceeding to reveal the first three cards on the table: the Ace of Hearts, Queen of Clubs, and Jack of Diamonds.

Agu whispered to himself, realizing that he had a ‘Three of a kind’.

Feeling emboldened, the Arabic individual declared, ‘Let’s raise the stakes.’

As the chips and cards circulated around the group, I couldn’t help but notice Abel’s shrewd demeanour as he confidently called out a whopping half-a-million-dol ar bid. His intelligence was unmatched among us mere mortals. It was hard not to admire his cunning skills.

Yet, it was frustrating to see those with lesser abilities grab attention by flaunting their paltry skill set. Despite the fact that there were gifted individuals in the room, they seemed to shy away from the spotlight, their exceptional talents unacknowledged.

I was losing hope as I scanned through my cards, feeling defeated with each passing moment. But in a fit of desperation, I placed a crisp $500 note on the table, unsure of what outcome it would bring. Abel, on the other hand, had already mentally claimed the pot. It was clear he was too busy relishing his inevitable triumph, oblivious to his surroundings.

Abel’s fingers clutched the glass as he savoured the burn of his fourth whiskey. ‘Gentlemen, let’s show our next card,’ he declared, flipping over the ten of hearts. ‘Prepare yourselves for one hell of a game.’ Abel’s head swayed back and forth in frenzied excitement.

Agu gripped the edge of the table, coiled like a taut spring. He couldn’t shake the weight of his decision. The victory meant a quiet exit, but defeat demanded a far more sinister outcome. Impatience gnawed at him like a feral beast, and he threw several more $10,000 cash bills onto the table in a display of bravado.

With a sudden quickness, Nam-Gil sprang from his seat, deftly snatching another chair before settling down once more. His tone and accent shifted in the blink of an eye, brimming with confidence. ‘Hell yeah, I’m folding, boys. Finally, the last piece of the puzzle has fallen into place.’ Flicking open the fifth and final card, he revealed the seven hearts with a flourish. In a whirlwind, he moved again and bellowed from the next chair over.

‘I’ve won! Unbelievable, it’s a fucking flash! Can you even fathom it?’ Abel was shaking with excitement yet again.

Exasperation courses through me, escaping in the form of a groan. Irena’s expression morphs into one of somber sympathy. ‘Cheer up, you’ll hit the jackpot next time,’ she intones soothingly.

With a sigh, I watch her hop off my lap before standing up myself.

Something feels off today; my usual winning streak against Abel in poker has vanished into thin air. Could it be Irena? Is her mere presence serving as an unwelcome distraction?

‘I’m going to get a drink. Can I get you anything?’ I ask Irena, smoothing my tie. She casts a quick glance at the bar, then shakes her head as I plant a kiss on her forehead. ‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ I murmur, heading toward the direction of Nirali and Abel.

Upon reaching the bar, I leaned in and muttered, ‘Something strong’ to the bartender. As he busies himself, I close my eyes and massage my temples. A presence beside me made me open my eyes, curious.

Out of the corner of my eye, a familiar figure catches my attention: Anatol.

Paris isn’t exactly his usual haunt, so I can’t help but wonder what in the world he’s doing here.

‘How’s your brother, Grzegorz?’ I casually ask, my voice laced with a sinister undertone. Truth be told, I took great pleasure in breaking a few of his bones, and I’m not at all ashamed of it. Anatol clears his throat, fidgeting with his tie. ‘He’s… regaining his strength,’ he finally manages to stutter out.

Anatol is one of the quieter members of the Nowak family, but don’t let that fool you: he’s as manipulative as they come. ‘I’m just here to check on my niece,’ he informs me as he subtly glances over at Irena, deep in conversation with Nirali. His gaze then snaps back to me, and I can’t help but feel a chill run down my spine.

‘Tell me, how has she been treating you lately?’ he inquired a hint of smugness in his voice. Suppressing the urge to lash out, I sipped on my drink, letting the liquid courage flow through me.

‘Her behaviour towards me is none of your concern,’ I retorted, my words razor-sharp. His response was a chuckle, one that grated on my nerves.

‘Ah, but our relationship is stated, as per the agreement you signed,’ he reminded me, his tone condescending. My hands clenched into fists, the anger bubbling within me.

But then, a realization hit me, and I made a decision. I would no longer be beholden to the Nowak brothers or their schemes. It was time to take my life into my own hands. My feelings towards Irena have changed. I do not intend to ruin what we have.

I respect Irena’s wishes so I will not act out on the agreement that I shared with them.

Three months ago, the esteemed Nowak brothers provided invaluable assistance in rescuing my business from a potentially ruinous situation.

Unbeknownst to me, an unknown source had successfully breached the firewalls of my global trading and money laundering operation, putting a staggering 10 billion dollars in jeopardy. Despite my best efforts, I was unable to resolve the issue on my own. It was then that I turned to the Nowak brothers, known for their expertise in dealing with complex security breaches and hacking.

The Nowak brothers had provided invaluable assistance, for which I felt indebted. To show my appreciation, they recommended that I marry their niece. Initially, the idea did not appeal to me, but when I learned that the potential bride was Jan’s daughter, my dear friend and supporter, my initial reluctance faded away. Given Jan’s significant contribution to my achievements, it appeared appropriate to honor his memory by marrying into his family.

Although a union was formed, there was a condition attached. The elders of the Nowak family arranged for Viktor to marry someone of their choosing, given her prominent status, in order to produce an heir to continue the family’s enterprise. It was highly necessary that she become pregnant and give birth to ensure the legacy of the Nowak empire.

But plans changed when Irena killed Viktor.

Fate took a turn and we got married as per our agreement that I would impregnate her and pay her one million dollars.

‘I’m no longer included, I’ll pay fifty million dollars and recommend a replacement for Irena, without interfering with her life,’ I replied, sipping my drink. He objected, ‘That was not part of our deal.’

I confronted him, feeling more and more angry. ‘It doesn’t matter to me. I won’t make her pregnant. She has expressed her opposition to having kids, and I respect her wishes,’ I asserted resolutely. He scoffed, ‘When have you ever respected a woman?’

As the glass met with the wooden surface, an involuntary movement rippled through my jaw, betraying the inferno of rage that burned within.

‘I’ve always been a bastion of respect towards women. But you and your wretched siblings? You treat them as mere objects of desire, with no regard for their dignity. Your ostentatious posturing is nothing but a sad display of your own insecurities.’ With each word, my voice quivered with the effort of restraint.

Anatol’s eyes flashed with fury, the tension between us palpable like the tremors of an impending earthquake.

‘If you don’t keep your promise, we’ll find a replacement for you as the father of her children, whether she agrees or not,’ he threatened harshly.

With a swift and unfaltering motion, I grasp Anatol by the collar. Rage ignites within me like a bolt of lightning striking the earth.

‘Let me be clear if you so much as think about interfering with our marriage, the consequences will be swift and brutal. Your very essence will be stripped bare, leaving you in a world of unparalleled torment. The precision and elegance with which I will carry out your punishment will leave even the most astute observer convinced that your death was beyond the realm of natural causes.’ The very atmosphere seemed to quiver with the intensity of my threat, like a blade honed to perfection.

Anatol’s facade of composure wavers and a faint glimmer of fear flickers deep within his gaze.

‘You’re in love with her, aren’t you? You’d rather put your entire livelihood on the line than risk losing her,’ he observes with keen insight, leaving me speechless. A sly grin spreads across his face.

As I release my grip on his collar, Anatol brushes off his suit and straightens his shirt, avoiding eye contact. I can feel the tension in the air.

‘Well, Saint, if that’s how you’re going to play it…’ He trails off, stealing one last glance at Irena before locking eyes with me. He leans in, his voice low and measured.

Anatol’s words cut like a knife as he spoke them with conviction.

‘Believe me, when I say this, I genuinely hope that Irena dies.’

He then gracefully took a step back, spun on his heel, and strolled away.