Final
Ivan
Need another vacation.
Seriously.
I look out the window of the car as it pulls through the city traffic, and I wonder how I ever survived being a househusband full-time.
It got old fast.
I love Nia, obviously. I love staying home with her. But after the fiftieth time watching Little Bunny Detective and the hundredth meltdown over a slightly broken cracker?
Yeah.
I needed something to do.
So now I'm a judge on a model competition show.
People online like to say I only got the position because of my billionaire husband.
And what about it?
It's not my fault I married rich.
And it's definitely not my fault I have over ten years of professional modeling experience from my other life—experience I can't exactly bring up unless I want to be dragged off to a psychiatric ward.
But honestly?
It's fun.
Watching contestants grow under my guidance… is this what parenting does to people?
Makes them soft and encouraging?
Who knows.
The car finally skids to a stop in front of the house, and I step out with a sigh.
Home sweet home.
Through the window, I see Nia perched on her grandfather's knee, babbling about something that absolutely does not require that amount of dramatic arm movement.
I walk inside and drop my bag by the door.
4 p.m.
Just in time.
Zander likes it when I'm home before him.
He says it makes him feel "welcomed."
And since he gives me the world, the least I can do is indulge him on the little things.
He usually gets home at 6 p.m.
Sometimes 5 p.m. if he feels clingy.
(Which is often.)
I head up the stairs, walking past wall after wall of framed photos — memories, milestones, chaos we survived, all frozen in time. There's one of Nia's first steps, one of me and Zander covered in cake from her first birthday, one of him kissing my cheek while I pretend to be annoyed.
I smile without meaning to.
In the bedroom, I peel off my clothes and step into the shower.
Working in showbiz around people, it's inevitable that I pick up traces of their scents — hints of pheromones that my possessive husband absolutely cannot stand.
And honestly?
I get it.
One time Zander came home smelling faintly like an omega's pheromones — barely noticeable, really — and I lost my entire mind.
I kicked him out.
Screamed.
Threw a pillow at him like it was a weapon of justice.
Looking back now…maybe I overreacted a tiny bit.
Especially considering that Zander, in the same situation, simply frowns slightly and says, "Go shower."
But hey.
He knew who he married.
I towel off, change quickly, and head downstairs smelling exactly how he likes. Like me.
Nia spots me immediately and squeals. "Papa!"
I kiss her forehead, greet my father-in-law politely, and settle into the sofa to wait for my husband to come home.
It's peaceful.
Quiet.
Normal.
An ordinary day.
***
Zander
The worst part of my day is leaving the house, leaving my husband and heading to work.
The best part of my day is walking back through that door and seeing him again.
I'm a simple man, really.
I step inside and immediately hear Margaret arguing with Nia over something small and dramatic — no doubt a chocolate-related crisis. But my eyes only search for one person.
Then he steps into my line of sight…
and the whole world sharpens into clarity.
Look at him.
He's so beautiful, his hair falls to his shoulders, golden and bright. His eyes sparkle like the stars.
He smiles, and everything inside me softens.
I walk further in, and he meets me halfway, arms sliding around my waist. I bend down and kiss him, slow and familiar.
"Hey," I say.
"Hi," he murmurs back.
"Missed you."
He giggles, that quiet, breathy one that destroys me.
"I think we have an hour before dinner," he whispers, leaning in close. "Won't you show me how much you missed me?"
My body reacts instantly. I don't even try to hide it.
"More than enough time," I breathe, kissing him again.
Maksim passes by, grunting like he's allergic to romance. You'd think he'd be used to this by now — we've been like this practically every day.
This is normal for us.
An ordinary day.
Ivan pulls away with that smirk — the one that promises trouble ,and starts walking toward the stairs. Without thinking, I follow. I always follow.
I would follow him to the ends of the earth.
He glances over his shoulder, winks, and my heart stumbles in my chest like I'm still a teenager and not a grown man with a career, a house, and a family.
And like yesterday…
and every day before that…
and every day still ahead of us…
One hour won't be enough.
Not when it comes to him.
Not ever.