#a man a man a ma a a an!!!!!

[io-lu-art]

A tale of Ba Sing Se.

[taeeflwrr]

🤭🤭🤭🤭 this was written for me i need more eldest daughter struggles yn × perfect man jaemin GIVE IT TO ME

two sides, same coin (n.jm)

pairing: na jeamin x reader genre: eldest/only daughter angst, fluff, strangers to whatever this is summary: y/n's one duty in life is to look out for others. romance who? however, jaemin comes along and maybe he can change her mind. alternatively, prom committee love story

Jaemin is the date-to-marry type. His friends call him grandpa for it but he doesn’t care, not even a little. No, Na Jaemin knew that the love he wanted was the kind that meant family heirlooms, photo albums of embarrassing baby pictures, and sharing warm coffee the morning after crying the whole night. He wanted the handholding and cuddles but only if it would include all the booboos in between that life inflicted. 

Don’t ask him why. He just knows. 

The thing is, despite everything Jaemin was such a hopeless romantic. Everyone would tell him to “just pick a girl” and while he’s happy for his couple friends, Jaemin just likes to march to the beat of his own drum. 

You, on the other hand, are the only daughter in an Asian household, your father is the dean, and everyone down to the school janitor knows you. That in itself was a sure fire guarantee that you could never entertain boys romantically, let alone find a boyfriend in high school. So you’re resigned not to. Love was way too complicated anyway. Besides, you had student council and prom wasn’t going to plan itself. 

But did you feel tired sometimes? No doubt. 

While there was a lot of love to go around, there were also a lot of responsibilities and a shit ton of expectations. On some days you just needed a break. Which is why even if you felt shy to admit it, you found Jaemin the most charming member of the prom committee. 

Jaemin didn’t exactly plan on signing up. However, he would much rather spend his time volunteering for something that was purposeful than get stuck being buggered on about why he still didn’t have a girlfriend. You, on the other hand, pretty much inherited the role of prom committee head, as did all senior student representatives every year. 

You didn’t intend to get close to Jaemin. Yes, you knew each other for your entire lives since elementary but you weren’t exactly from the same circles. But it just kind of happened. Prom was fast approaching, you liked to be precise in your work and Jaemin had a penchant nosing around. 

“If you need anything, you shouldn’t be afraid to ask,” he emphasized as he carefully placed a bandage on your finger. It was only a papercut but Jaemin insisted you sit down and take a break from sorting all the documents needed for prom. 

You shrugged, “Deadline is tomorrow morning.” You weren’t exaggerating but you didn’t make the rules and if those papers weren’t on the principal’s desk by 7 am, simply put, there would be no prom. 

Understanding flickered in his eyes as he smoothed the bandaid over your finger gently. He’d found you all alone way past school hours in a frenzy of folders and decided no one deserved to die by papercuts all alone.  

This wasn’t the first time this happened. In the course of the last few weeks, you’d eagerly scheduled meetings and town halls with the graduating class all in an effort to give everyone the prom they deserved. However, this had meant you skipped meals and went home late most of the time.

“This is way too much work for you,” he said as he started rummaging through his school bag. “This is the reason we have a committee.” 

The concern was highly appreciated but then again, who else was going to do the work if not you? “Jeamin, as much as I agree with you the reality is every senior is swamped with final requirements and-” 

“And you aren’t a senior?” he interrupted with an unimpressed expression. 

“I can handle the stress better than most,” you argued. 

“Yeah, clearly,” he snorted, which made you frown in his direction. 

Wordlessly, he offered you a brown paper bag. A smile creeps up on your face. If he was going to keep this up, someone’s heart was definitely going to be in trouble. 

“Let me guess, you accidentally ordered an extra meal, again?” 

Jaemin beamed, ”quite the opposite.” He cleared some space on the desk and gestured for you to sit across. 

You humor him and peer into the bag, chuckling, “this time it’s a whole lunchbox?” 

“I intentionally ordered two because I knew you would never listen to me.” 

You open the lunch box and feel pleasantly surprised that the food is quite warm. Your last meal was lunch and that felt like ages ago. “Thanks for looking out for me, you really didn’t have to,” you say. 

“What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t look out for you?” He pauses, and for a moment you feel like he’s looking straight into your soul. 

Hearing Jaemin call you a friend struck a chord in that if you were being honest, you haven’t really felt like you had any friends since senior year started. You haven’t had company like this in a while. Sure you had your best friends but they were busy trying to survive. You still had the occasional breakdown here and there, but more often than not, you knew how to handle yourself. There wasn’t much of a choice anyway. You didn’t want to blame your friends for needing more support than yourself, so you power through; just doing what needs to be done. 

Comfortable silence fills the room as you both eat thoughtfully. You appreciate the stillness and bask in the company of Jaemin. You think, better make the best of it while it lasts, right? 

A thought stirs in your mind and you’re compelled to satisfy your curiosity. “Jaemin? Why the prom committee?” 

“Why not? He grins. You laugh at his response, mentally slapping yourself because you actually anticipated this sort of crap from Jaemin. 

“Okay let me rephrase that,” you continue, “Is there any reason you chose to join prom committee?” 

He drops his form into the now empty lunchbox, appearing to give his answer some thought, “Well, when I asked the upperclassmen last year they said tickets would be discounted for committee members.” 

You nod thoughtfully, admiring his practical mindset. 

“But if you want the real answer, it’s because I felt like being a part of something we could all look back on,” he answered. 

You can’t help but smile at him, at his genuineness. Something about how open he was despite having spent only a month in each other’s company has your heart feeling a certain way. 

“And you, why student council for four straight years?” he asks with a quizzical expression. 

Your fingers trace the wood grains as you rack your brain for an answer. An acceptable answer would be, that you "cared a lot" or that you "want to make a difference". But instead, you gravitate towards something you don’t exactly want to admit, “I just, don’t want to think.” 

Jaemin bursts out laughing. “You’re saying that when you’re obviously doing all the heavy brainwork here?” 

“But that’s all it is, work,” you quip back. “When it’s work I know what to do. But with everything else?” 

The way your expression shifts is unmistakable for Jaemin. Doubt is not something he’s accustomed to when it comes to you. Yet, something about your vulnerability compels him to push farther. 

“Do you ever feel like people have a certain idea of what you need to be doing, anything outside of that is sort of like a crime?” He asks. 

You nod slowly in agreement, “Like ‘hey, since you’ve proven that you’re great at this, only ever be great at this. Don’t ask for help cause everyone is too busy. But also, you’re such a workaholic’.” Your words spill out faster than you can think. 

He hums in agreement allowing you to continue. “Everyone thinks they know what’s best for you but none of them actually offer any useful help,” you croak out. 

It’s quiet for a while before Jaemin breaks the silence, “Can I be really honest this time?” 

You raise an eyebrow at the interjection, “weren’t you being honest a while ago?”  

He ignores your comment and instead laughs it off. “What I wanted to say was, listening to you made something click,” he said leaning forward so his hands rested on the table. “I joined the prom committee to look for friends,” he said, pausing only to get a glimpse of your confused expression. 

“I know it sounds crazy but you aren’t the only one who feels alone,” he confesses.

“Everyone has this certain expectation that because I like to help out a lot, because I love love, that I’m not capable of feeling sad, but I am.” 

“You love, love?” you ask skeptically. 

“Was that the only thing you heard?” he asks, throwing his hands up. 

You don’t know why but you find it in your heart to giggle. “I didn’t know you were such a sap.” 

“Am not!” He counters. “I just have specific beliefs when it comes to love.” 

“And that is?” 

“That it’s supposed to be special, nothing rushed, never forced,” he explains. “It’s something that feels more warm and steady than jittery, if you know what I mean?” 

If Jaemin didn’t already fascinate you then, well he sure did now. You don’t know how the boy who liked to keep to his own business managed to conjure such deep thoughts. You find yourself nodding along. 

“I can respect that, I guess,” you finally say after some time. Sensing the time, you finally stand up to tidy the place and get back to work. 

“Thanks for being good company,” Jaemin suddenly says as he assists you in throwing the empty takeout bags in the bin. 

“You aren’t so bad yourself,” you reply. 

Jaemin thinks a lot while the two of you work. He thinks about the easy grace that you exude vis a vis being comfortable with vulnerability. And he thinks you’d battle him out for this, but he sure as hell didn’t believe that you were as cut-throat about life as your own friends labeled you. If any, he’d sure as hell vouch that you were a softie at heart. 

“Don’t skip meals,” he called out as the two of you parted ways later that evening. And you definitely wouldn’t be skipping any meals for the weeks to come. Not on Jaemin’s watch, anyway.

[chainymail]

when I first started fencing I didn’t know what to wear so i’d just come straight from work and train in my dusty carhartts. Not great for range of motion but I think I was onto something with the look at least.

[canisalbus]

Yeah sorry I drew this.

Hope you feel better soon ♡

.

[signanothername]

Get humbled Nightmare

I love to think Killer sometimes gives Nightmare the vibe of “I’m not stuck in here with you, you’re stuck in here with me” dhhdhd

Bonus sketch

[buckets-and-trees]

Cracking Locks

Characters/Pairings: soft!dark mafia Andy Barber x female!reader Word Count: 5k Summary: A tense meeting with Andy's lawyer illuminates more of the gilded cage he's constructing to hold you. You consider a bold decision that will test the tethers of your new life. Takes place directly after Burned Off The Haze.

Content/Warnings: power dynamics and emotional manipulation; forced engagement; use of pet name (sweetheart)

Author Note: This is not a stand alone section! You can find the previous parts here.

A/N 2: I had literally no intention of giving IYM!Andy another feature in the Countdown to Chris-mas, but if we know anything about this man, we know that he moves on his own agenda and makes things happen the way he wants them to! So, really, should we be at all surprised he stole another week?

In your bedroom, you take a moment to lean against the closed door, trying to calm your racing heart and cool the fire still burning in your veins. You're angry at Andy for his manipulations, for involving your team without your knowledge, for the way he can so easily dominate you.

The mix of fear, anger, and arousal leaves you feeling off-balance and confused. You quickly change into a sleek black pencil skirt and a silk blouse, adding a pair of classic pumps and simple pearl earrings. Professional, but with an edge of sophistication that you know Andy will appreciate. As you're applying a fresh coat of lipstick, your eyes catch on the engagement ring glittering on your finger. It's a constant reminder of the situation you're in, of the choices - or lack thereof - that have led you here.

Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself and head back downstairs. Andy is waiting by the door, looking impeccable in a tailored suit. He must have suits in his home office since he didn’t follow you upstairs to change in your shared room.

His eyes rake over you appreciatively.

"Beautiful as always," Andy says, his voice low and intimate. He reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek. "Ready?"

You nod, not trusting your voice. Andy places his hand on the small of your back, guiding you out the door to where his Aston Martin waits, someone having brought it around from the garage.

You frown slightly, not expecting his car to be back in mint condition less than forty-eight hours after you had done your best to smash away at it.

Then again, you’ve never had the kind of money and power Andy has, so you suppose it’s not out of the question at all. If he doesn’t employ someone, or even a team, to look after his vehicles, it’s likely he owns a business that can and would accommodate his requests at any time since they reside squarely in his portfolio.

But as you get close, you see there is one dent left on the passenger side door just above the handle.

Andy sees that you see it before he opens it for you. “A reminder,” he explains.

You don’t want to hear what he thinks the reminder is for.

The black Range Rover you typically ride in without Andy pulls up behind you as you begin to drive down the lane of the estate, and you see Mark and Shep in the front.

“I have some business I need to take care of, so your detail will be following us to take care of you after the meeting,” Andy explains.

You don’t converse more than that on the way to the meeting with the lawyer. He spends most of the journey on his phone, conversing with whoever is on the other end of the line in what sounds like Italian.

When you arrive, Andy helps you out of the car, his hand once again finding its place on your lower back as he guides you into an imposing glass and steel building. The elevator ride up is silent, the tension between you palpable.

The law offices are sleek and modern, all glass and polished chrome. A receptionist greets you with a polite smile, her eyes lingering on Andy with a hint of fear.

"Mr. Barber, Ms. Klein is ready for you," she says, gesturing towards a conference room.

Andy nods, guiding you forward. Inside, a striking woman in her late fifties or early sixties rises to greet you. Her dark hair is overrun with silver, and the sharp eyes behind her black-rimmed glasses take in every detail as she shakes your hand.

"Pleasure to meet you," she says. "I'm Joanna Klein. Please, have a seat."

You settle into a plush leather chair, Andy's hand resting possessively on your thigh beneath the table. Joanna opens a folder, pulling out several documents.

"Now, let's discuss the prenuptial agreement," she begins, and you’re struck by how utterly at ease she is around Andy. You wonder how much she knows about him and how long she’s been one of his lawyers.

"It's quite comprehensive," she says as she slides a thick document across the table. "It covers all aspects of your union and potential dissolution, including asset division, spousal support, and confidentiality clauses."

Your eyes widen as you take in the sheer volume of the document. Andy's hand tightens slightly on your thigh, a silent warning.

"I... I haven't had a chance to review this with my own lawyer," you say, your voice smaller than you'd like.

Joanna's eyes flick to Andy, then back to you. "Of course. We can schedule another meeting once you've had time to go over it thoroughly with your counsel."

"That won't be necessary," Andy interjects smoothly. "Ms. Klein will be representing both our interests."

You turn to him, shock evident on your face. "But-"

"It's all standard, sweetheart, but if you would prefer, I can choose another lawyer from my retainer and Joanna can represent your interests.”

“No, it’s…” you sigh. You worked with a lawyer when you expanded your company, but you don’t have a lawyer for something like this, and you doubt you would be able to afford someone at the caliber Andy can. You assume it would be useless anyway.

He trapped you into marrying him, after all.

“It’s fine.”

Joanna clears her throat, drawing your attention back to her. "Let me summarize the key points for you," she says, her tone professional but not unkind. "In the event of a divorce, you would receive a substantial settlement, including a lump sum payment and monthly alimony. The exact figures are detailed on page 17."

You nod numbly, trying to retain as much as you can while you process the information.

"There's also a clause about children," Joanna continues. "Any children born during the marriage would be entitled to a trust fund, accessible at age 25. Details are on page 23."

Your breath catches in your throat. Children? You and Andy have never discussed having a family. The thought sends a chill down your spine.

"The confidentiality agreement is quite extensive," Joanna says, flipping to another section. "It covers all aspects of Mr. Barber's personal and professional life.”

You swallow hard, your mind reeling. The prenup seems to cover every possible scenario, binding you to Andy in ways you hadn't even considered. Your eyes scan the pages, catching phrases like "infidelity clause" and "social media restrictions." It's overwhelming.

Andy's hand remains on your thigh, his thumb tracing small circles that are both comforting and distracting.

As Joanna continues outlining the prenup, you feel a growing sense of unease. The document is clearly designed to protect Andy's vast wealth and interests, while offering you a comfortable but controlled existence. You realize with a sinking feeling that this prenup is just another way for Andy to exert his power and control over you.

"And finally," Joanna says, "there's a fidelity clause. Any infidelity on your part would result in forfeiture of all financial benefits outlined in the agreement."

Your eyes snap to Andy, who meets your gaze with a calm, almost predatory smile. "Just a precaution, sweetheart," he says smoothly. "I'm sure it won't be an issue."

You wonder why you feel a barb of betrayal. Even if this wasn’t the scenario you wanted, how could he think you would be the type of person to cheat on her husband?

“What is your infidelity clause?” you ask.

Andy's eyes narrow slightly at your question. "What makes you think there isn't one?" he asks, his voice low and dangerous.

You meet his gaze steadily, refusing to be intimidated. "Because you didn't mention it, and I doubt you'd agree to such restrictions on yourself."

A tense silence fills the room. Joanna clears her throat and stands. “I’m going to give the two of you a few minutes and then come back.”

“Thanks, Jo,” Andy nods, though he’s still looking at you.

Once the door closes, he speaks again. "You're right, sweetheart. There isn't an equivalent clause for me." His hand tightens on your thigh, almost painfully. "But let me be clear - I have no intention of being unfaithful. You'll find I'm quite... possessive of what's mine."

Your eyes flash with anger and hurt. "So you expect complete fidelity from me, but won't offer the same in return? That's not a partnership, Andy. That's ownership."

Andy's jaw tightens, his eyes darkening. For a moment, you think he might lash out, but then something in his expression shifts. He leans back in his chair, regarding you with a mixture of irritation and... is that respect?

"Most would simply accept what I offer without question."

"I'm not most people," you retort.

"No, you're not." A small smile plays at the corners of his mouth. “It’s part of why I wanted you.

He's silent again for a long moment, his piercing blue eyes studying you intently. You can almost see the gears turning in his mind, weighing options, calculating risks and benefits.

Finally, Andy leans forward, his eyes locked on yours. "Alright, sweetheart. You want fidelity? I'll add a clause. If I'm unfaithful, you get double the settlement outlined in the current agreement."

Your eyes widen in surprise. You hadn't expected him to actually agree. "And the monthly alimony?"

"Triple," he says without hesitation. "For life."

You swallow hard, processing his offer. It's more than generous, almost absurdly so. But then again, for a man of Andy's wealth, perhaps it's a small price to pay for your compliance.

"And the confidentiality agreement?" you press, emboldened by this small victory. "It seems rather... extensive."

Andy's expression hardens slightly. "That's non-negotiable. My business requires discretion, and you may be privy to sensitive information. The confidentiality agreement stays as is."

“But what am I allowed to talk about with my parents? My friends? I can’t simply ignore that you exist and that you’re my husband. They’ll expect me to discuss normal things about you.”

Andy considers your words for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Fair point," he concedes. "We'll add a clause specifying what information you can share about our personal life - basic details about our relationship, our home life, things of that nature. But anything related to my business dealings or our finances remains strictly off-limits."

You nod slowly, feeling like you've gained at least a small victory. "Okay."

"Anything else?" Andy asks, his tone suggesting this negotiation is nearing its end.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for one last request. "I want to maintain my own bank account. One that you don't have access to or control over."

Andy's eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of surprise in them before his expression returns to its usual mask of calm control. "And why is that necessary?" he asks, his voice deceptively soft.

You meet his gaze steadily. "Because I need to maintain some independence. Some part of my life that's still mine, and my business earnings - they’re mine. I want to keep it separate."

For a long moment, Andy just stares at you, his blue eyes unreadable.

"You can keep your existing account, and I'll set up a monthly allowance to be deposited into it. But I want full visibility on all transactions."

You open your mouth to protest, but Andy holds up a hand, silencing you.

"This isn't negotiable," he says firmly. "I need to know where our money is going, for both business and security reasons. But I won't interfere unless you act against me, and then my allowance contributions will cease immediately.”

You nod, realizing you've pushed as far as you can for now. It's not perfect, but it's something - a small piece of autonomy. "Alright. I accept those terms."

Andy's eyes gleam with satisfaction. He leans in and his hand cups your face. "Good girl," he murmurs, before capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

You melt into the kiss despite yourself, your body responding to his touch as it always does. When he pulls away, you're left breathless.

"Now," Andy says, his voice low, "let's call Joanna back in and finalize this, shall we?"

You nod, still slightly dazed from the kiss. Andy raises his hand, signaling to Joanna through the glass walls of the conference room. She re-enters, her expression carefully neutral.

"We've come to an agreement on some modifications," Andy informs her, then goes on to explain what the two of you agreed to.

Joanna's eyebrows raise slightly, but she takes down the notes on a laptop. "I'll have these drafted immediately," she says. “We can have the adjusted agreement delivered for your signatures later this afternoon.”

“You should bring them yourself,” Andy suggests, “join us for dinner.”

Joanna gives him a wry smile. “I think perhaps another time. Now, are we ready to jump into the business deal?”

"I'm going to excuse myself," Andy says, standing up quickly. "I have other matters of business that require my attention."

“Andy?” You look up at him, confusion etched across your face. This is supposed to be an important meeting about your future together, isn't it? And now he's just leaving?

He leans down, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Don't worry, sweetheart. Joanna will take excellent care of you." His eyes meet Joanna's, a silent communication passing between them. "I trust her implicitly to negotiate on my behalf."

Joanna nods, her expression unreadable. "Of course, Andy. We'll take care of things from here."

“I'll review the terms of any final deal with the updated prenup," he says as he leaves.

As the door closes behind Andy, you turn to Joanna, a mix of curiosity and confusion swirling in your mind. Joanna's sharp eyes study you from behind her black-rimmed glasses, and you can't help but feel like now you're truly being evaluated by her.

"So," Joanna begins, her voice crisp and professional, "we have a business proposal to discuss."

You blink. "A business proposal? I thought we were here about the prenup."

Joanna's lips curve into a small, knowing smile. "That was just the first order of business. Andy has another proposition for you." She pauses, letting the tension build. "He wants to become a silent partner in your event planning business."

The words hit you like a physical blow. You lean back in your chair, mind reeling as you process Joanna's words. A silent partner in your business? The business you've built from the ground up, poured your heart and soul into?

"I... I don't understand," you stammer. "Why would Andy want to invest in my company?"

Joanna's sharp eyes study you over the rim of her glasses. "Your company has shown impressive growth over the past few years. Andy sees great potential in your business, and he wants to help it grow."

You shake your head, trying to process this new information. "But why? My company is successful, but it's small. It can't possibly be of interest to someone like Andy."

"On the contrary," Joanna says, opening a folder on the table. "Andy has been very impressed with your work, particularly the gala you organized for him. You could say that was a bit of an audition. He believes that with the right resources and connections, your company could become a major player in the high-end event planning industry."

The implication hangs heavy in the air. You know Andy moves in powerful circles, both legitimate and otherwise. Is this his way of pulling you further into his world?

"But it's my company," you say, your voice smaller than you'd like. "I've built it from nothing."

"And it will remain yours," Joanna assures you. "Andy would be a silent partner. He'd like to make some suggestions for infrastructure growth to set up a framework for the future, but once the terms are settled, he would provide capital for expansion and leave operations to you.”

You sit in stunned silence as Joanna outlines the proposal. Andy would provide a significant influx of capital, along with connections to society he’s cultivated - like the Vanderbilt wedding he put you up for.

But at what cost?

And since he’s arranged to have you here, do you even have a choice?

You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts. "I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this. My business is... it's personal. It's mine."

The older woman sighs. Joanna regards you with what almost looks like sympathy and her response surprises you. “I understand your hesitation. I advised him against this, but he’s insistent.”

You chew on your bottom lip for a moment. “So, he wants a deal.”

Joanna nods. "Yes. But Andy anticipated you might need some time. He's prepared to give you a week to consider the offer."

A week. It feels both too long and not nearly enough time to make such a monumental decision. You nod slowly, grateful for at least this small concession.

"In the meantime," Joanna continues, sliding a thick folder across the table, "here are the details of the proposal. I suggest you review them carefully on your own, but I’d like to take you through some of the finer points.”

For the next hour, you listen intently as Joanna walks you through the intricacies of Andy's proposal. The numbers are staggering - the infusion of capital he's offering would allow you to expand your business in ways you've only dreamed of. More staff, cutting-edge technology, access to an elite clientele that would catapult your company to the top tier of event planning.

And with each benefit Joanna outlines, you feel a growing sense of unease. This isn't just a business deal - it's Andy further entwining himself into every aspect of your life. Your company has been your safe haven, the one thing that's truly yours. And now he wants a piece of that too.

He wants you to set up physical offices somewhere in the city, giving a list of five locations that have already been evaluated and scouted by his business team whose leasing costs would be waived either because he owns the buildings or has existing contracts with their owners. He wants you to shift your role and title to executive director and name one of your three as the new operations director so you can maintain oversight and strategic direction but be able to be remote for periods (like your upcoming honeymoon) without it affecting the team.

As Joanna wraps up her explanation, you sit back in your chair, feeling overwhelmed. "This is... a lot to take in," you say quietly.

Joanna nods sympathetically. "I understand. Andy’s offer is certainly comprehensive. It's a significant decision, and not one to be taken lightly." She pauses, studying you for a moment. "If I may offer some advice?"

You nod, grateful for any insight at this point.

"Take the week. Really think about what you want for your business, separate from Andy's proposal. Then compare that vision to what he's offering. See where they align and where they differ." Joanna leans forward slightly. "And remember, you have negotiating power here. If there are aspects of the deal you're uncomfortable with, we can discuss modifications."

You're surprised by her candor. "Thank you," you say sincerely. "I appreciate that."

You’re about to stand, but then you decide to take advantage of this potentially rare opportunity. "Can I ask you something, off the record?"

Joanna hesitates for a moment, then nods. "Of course."

"You've known Andy for a long time, haven't you?" At her nod, you continue. "What's your honest opinion of this? Of him wanting to be involved in my business?"

Joanna removes her glasses, rubbing the bridge of her nose. For a moment, she looks older, more tired. "Off the record? Andy Barber is a complicated man. He's brilliant, driven, and can be incredibly generous. But he's also used to getting what he wants, and he doesn't like loose ends."

She pauses, choosing her words carefully. “He's... complex. I've seen him do things that would shock you, and I've seen him show unexpected kindness. But make no mistake - everything Andy does serves a purpose."

Her words send a chill down your spine. You think of the duality you've witnessed in Andy - the charming, attentive fiancé and the cold, calculating businessman.

"And what do you think his purpose is here?" you ask quietly.

“You’re incredibly smart. You already know.” Joanna puts her glasses back on, her professional demeanor returning. "Remember, you have a week. Use it wisely. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to contact me directly," she says and hands you her card.

You nod, gathering your things. As you stand to leave, Joanna speaks again.

"One more thing," she says, her voice low. "Andy values loyalty above all else. Whatever you decide, make sure you can live with the consequences."

You take the folder with slightly shaking hands. "Thank you, Ms. Klein."

“I think you can call me Joanna.”

You leave the law office with your head spinning, clutching the folders containing Andy's proposal and the updated prenuptial agreement Joanna’s staff had been able to finish revising just as you left. As you step out of the office, you see Shep waiting in the lobby. He opens the door for you and follows a step behind as you make your way to the elevator.

"Everything alright?" he asks, his tone carefully neutral but his eyes showing a hint of concern.

You force a smile. "Fine, thank you, Shep."

The elevator dings, and as you step inside, you can't help but wonder how much your security detail knows about your situation with Andy. Are they just doing their job, or are they reporting your every move back to him?

As you step out of the building, you see Mark waiting by the Range Rover. He opens the door for you, his expression neutral as always.

"Where to, miss?" Mark asks once you settle into the backseat and he and Shep have taken their seats in the front.

You pause, realizing you're not sure where to go. The idea of returning to Andy's house - your house now - feels suffocating. You need space to think, to process everything that's happened.

"Could you... could you just drive for a while?" you ask hesitantly. "I'd like some time to think."

Mark nods without question, pulling away from the curb. As the city passes by outside your window, you try to organize your thoughts. The prenup, the business proposal, Joanna's cryptic warnings - it's all overwhelming.

Joanna had heavily advocated that you take the full week to go over the proposal and negotiate your terms. How possible would that be in Andy’s house, with Andy essentially right over your shoulder? Or with him possibly throwing you over his shoulder and taking you to his bed to wreck you with pleasure, occupying far too much of your mind and your time to think?

You desperately wanted to talk to someone you trusted, someone who knew you, who could help you sort through… maybe not everything, but perhaps some of it.

If only…

You sit up a little straighter and look at Shep and Mark.

Andy had said they were your men, but how true was that? And to what extent? If they had to choose loyalty to you or Andy, could they even choose you over him?

You lean forward. “Can I ask you two something?”

“Of course, ma’am,” Shep says.

You raise an eyebrow. “I don’t love when you ma’am me.”

His eyes twinkle just slightly. “I know.”

“After you get married, we’ll be able to just call you Mrs. Barber instead,” Mark adds.

Now you scowl. “Okay, that’s weirder.”

Mark grins, but Shep at least keeps his face neutral. “What did you want to ask?” he prompts you to continue.

“I know you two are assigned as my permanent detail. Andy explained everything when this started, but what would you say your responsibilities are?”

“My job is to monitor threats whenever you leave the house and keep you safe,” Shep says easily. “Mark’s job is to transport you safely and provide back up.”

You’re careful as you continue.

“The private jet…” you think of the TikToks you’ve seen recently of Kolin Jones arranging flights for rich people on Amalfi Jets. “Hypothetically how long would it take to charter a flight to Europe?”

The two men exchange a look.

You look between them.

“You don’t need to charter a flight,” Mark finally answers. “Mr. Barber is the sole owner of his plane, and I’m a licensed and experienced pilot.”

Your jaw drops slightly, and excitement flickers in your chest.

“Before you get carried away, ma’am,” Shep interjects, and you know he’s ma’am-ing you on purpose. “Where are you going with this?”

You weigh how much to test and tell them, but if they’re not fully behind you, it won’t matter anyway - they’ll prevent you or rat you out to Andy if they don’t agree to your emerging plan.

“I want to get away - just for a few days,” you say.

Shep and Mark exchange another look, this one more wary.

"Get away?" Shep repeats carefully. "You mean like a vacation?"

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself. "No, not exactly. I need some time and space to think, away from Andy and everything here. Just for a few days, to clear my head and figure things out."

There's a heavy silence in the car. You can practically see the wheels turning in their heads as they process your request.

Finally, Mark speaks. "You know we can't just whisk you away without Mr. Barber's knowledge or consent. That's not how this works."

Your heart sinks slightly, but you press on. "I understand that. But you're my security detail, right? You're supposed to protect me and look out for my wellbeing?"

Shep turns and looks at your face directly, studying you. "We weren't assigned to be your babysitters or prison guards. Our job is to keep you safe, yes."

You lean forward, your voice low and urgent. "I'm not running away or trying to escape. I just need a few days to process everything that's happening."

Mark and Shep exchange another long look, seeming to continue a silent conversation.

Shep sighs. "We can't just disappear with you. But we can arrange something."

Your heart leaps with hope. "Really?"

Mark nods slowly. "Our primary job is to keep you safe at all times, and we can’t keep you safe if you don’t trust us.”

He may be telling you what you want to hear, but you think there’s genuine sincerity in what he’s saying. You desperately hope you’re right.

“We will need to report your location and future plans to Andy’s head of security, but I’m willing to hold off until we’re on our way, and I will negotiate us into a good place with taking this trip. Mr. Barber won’t be happy, but I will take the heat if it means longterm you will know you can lean on us.”

You open and close your mouth, searching for the right words. This was the best case scenario that you didn’t know would actually be possible.

“Anything to add?” Shep asks Mark.

Mark shakes his head. "I think that covers it.”

You nod, feeling a mix of relief and nervous excitement. "Thank you both. I... I really appreciate this. So what now?"

“If you are content without a flight crew for the cabin, we can leave almost immediately,” Shep explains, “but if you want a full staff, it would probably be two hours.”

“Oh, no, that’s not necessary. I have Andy’s black card, so I can get anything we need so we don’t need to raise any suspicion by going back to pack, but I will have to get my passport… and you two will-”

Shep raises his brow. “We travel with our passports at all times, and you should know we have a secondary passport for you.”

Your jaw drops.

“In case we ever need to get you out of the country for your safety and don’t have time to go home,” Mark explains.

The thought had never occurred to you.

But the reality that this was apparently a potential reality being part of Andy’s world chills your bones.

“Europe is familiar territory for us security-wise. Where did you have in mind?" Mark cuts into your thoughts.

“Oh,” you muse for a moment. “I have a friend who took a job in Stockholm a few years ago, but I should check with her first.”

You pull out your phone and consider what to even say to the best friend you haven’t seen in almost four years. Then you type out:

What would you say if I got engaged to a rich mafia man who had a private jet and told you I wanted to show up on your doorstep out of nowhere for a few days?

You grin as you hit send. Checking your watch, you know it’s late for her, but hope she’s still up.

“We'll need to file a flight plan and make some quick arrangements,” Shep says, pulling out his own phone, “but we can be in the air within two hours."

"Perfect," you say, feeling a mix of nerves and anticipation.

Your phone buzzes almost immediately with a response:

HER: I’d say you’re living one of my fantasies and ask WHEN and HOW LONG?!

YOU: How serious are you?

HER: Wait… How serious are YOU?

YOU: Maybe 10-12 hours from now and 3-4 days?

HER: You get here immediately! I have so many questions!

You can't help but laugh at your friend's enthusiastic response. It feels good to have something to smile about after the emotional rollercoaster of the past few days.

"Looks like we have a destination," you tell Shep and Mark.

Shep nods, already tapping away on his phone. "I'll call ahead to file the plan. Mark, head to the airfield."

As Mark changes course, you feel a mix of excitement and anxiety bubbling up inside you. You're really doing this - escaping, even if just for a few days, to clear your head and figure things out.

Can you believe I gave you a chapter for them without any smut?

What do you think? What does Andy think? How will he react?

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[lovevanpalmer]

if u can, u should go watch dev patel's directorial debut with monkey man in theaters !

[thatonedudeinthecorner]

God Deadpool you are sooo Peter’s bisexual crisis while simultaneously being the biggest annoyance in his life (and I love you dearly for it)

[zu-is-here]

* A serrade petit cat appears! (ò_ó")

[slutforpringles]

http://xhslink.com/a/hrF2gaFbixIW

A translator of redbull/vcarb posted their tributes to Daniel on Chinese social media xiaohongshu and their words are just so touching and had me cry again 😭 he imprints on so many people and he will always be Danny ric to them

🥹😭🥹 Thank you so much for sharing!!!

[emtrobarasalaplatja3]

[seonghwacore]

JOB YOSATORN KONGLIKIT as DR. DEN ⁕ 4 MINUTES E01

[transhades]

Breaking my "Social media isolation because I'm terrified of big DATV spoilers" in order to post these pics I took with photo mode because look at him. Look at this wolf. He's so broad and pretty I think I might die

[mfdragon]

I loooove making these guys say the most “out of pocket” shit.

They match eachother’s freak 👀

[buckets-and-trees]

Did you intend to prompt more I'm Your Man Andy with this? Perhaps not, Kris, but... IYM!Andy's track record doesn't support doing things because YOU want him to, does it? 😏

Title: Burned Off the Haze

Characters/Pairings: soft!dark mafia Andy Barber x female!reader Word Count: 4.5k Summary: Things only continue to escalate after Andy's meeting your parents, and he only continues to keep his control of your lives together. Takes place directly after Don't Look Too Far.

Content/Warnings: emotional manipulation; mild smut: kissing, vaginal fingering; use of pet name (sweetheart)

Author Note: This is not a stand alone section! You can find the previous parts here.

A/N 2: No one should be surprised this man would make sure he got his week in the Countdown to Chris-mas!

You’re waiting impatiently for Andy to get home from his day at the country club with your father. You meet him at the top of the stairs leading from the garage on the lower level.

“When were you going to tell me you had decided on a wedding here in Boston instead of eloping?”

With casual determination, Andy wraps his strong arms around your waist and pulls you close. His lips meet yours in a passionate, all-consuming kiss that sends shivers down your spine. Every touch ignites a fire within you, the intensity of his embrace leaving you breathless and wanting more. The world starts to fade away as you get lost in the moment with him, but then you push against his chest and turn your head away.

“Andy! Answer me!” you insist as you extricate yourself from his arms - though he lets you go freely, not forcing you to stay in his embrace.

“I would have told you over dinner last night, but…” he trails off, giving you a meaningful look.

You step back, putting more distance between you and Andy. "But what? I was too busy smashing up your cars?"

“No, you largely refused to talk to me through dinner. And then after,” Andy's lips quirk in amusement, "we were otherwise occupied the rest of the evening, if you recall."

Heat rises to your cheeks at the memory of your passionate encounter. You push those thoughts aside, refusing to be distracted. "You made another huge decision without even consulting me."

“I only achieved what I have because I learned when to double down and when to pursue a different course of action,” Andy replies. “I thought you might prefer a proper wedding with your family and friends present."

You shake your head in frustration. "That's not the issue here, Andy. It's that you keep making these choices for us, for me, without including me in the process. Forcing our engagement, meeting my parents behind my back, making big calls about our wedding? What's next?"

Andy's eyes flash with irritation, his piercing blue gaze fixed on you. "After meeting your parents, I decided a small but proper wedding is the better move."

You narrow your eyes, sensing there's more to this sudden change of plans. "It can’t only be meeting my parents that inspired this change of heart; you’re not that sentimental."

Andy smirks. “Good assessment - your intelligence is one of the things that drew me to you. But your parents are good people who love you deeply,” he continues, his voice taking on a softer tone. “They've been dreaming of your wedding day probably since you were born. Your mother's eyes lit up when she talked about helping you choose a dress, about flowers and cake tastings. Your father... well, he tried to hide it, but I could see how much it would mean to him to walk you down the aisle."

He pauses, letting his words sink in. You feel a warmth in your heart for what he says about your parents because you know he’s not wrong, your mother had gushed about those very things while you had lunch together. But there’s also an ache in your throat because you’re so angry, you want to cry and yell and rage at him.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "And how does this suit your purposes, Andy?"

His eyes darken slightly as he regards you. "A proper society wedding cements our union in the eyes of both our worlds - the legitimate business sphere and the less legitimate one. It sends a clear message about my intentions."

"Your intentions?" you press, feeling a chill run down your spine.

Andy steps closer, his imposing frame looming over you. "That you are mine, irrevocably. That I will protect what's mine with everything I have." His voice is low, almost a growl. "And that anyone who even thinks of touching you or using you against me will face severe consequences."

You swallow hard, torn between fear and an unwelcome flicker of desire at his possessive words. "I'm not a possession, Andy. You can't just stake your claim."

Andy's eyes flash dangerously and in one swift motion he has you pinned against the wall, his body pressing into yours. One hand grips your hip while the other cups your face, forcing you to meet his intense gaze.

"Can't I?" he growls, his voice low and rough. "You're wearing my ring. You're living in my home. You've shared my bed. Tell me, sweetheart, how are you not mine?"

Your breath catches in your throat. You want to argue, to push him away, but your traitorous body responds to his proximity. Heat pools in your core as his scent envelops you.

"I-" you start, but the words are cut off as Andy's mouth crashes down on yours.

The kiss is fierce, demanding, stealing your breath and your resistance. His tongue plunders your mouth as his body presses you firmly against the wall. You can feel every hard plane of his muscular form molded against your softer curves.

Despite your anger and frustration, your body betrays you. Your hands fist in his shirt, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. A moan escapes your throat, swallowed by his insistent lips.

Andy's hand slides from your hip to your thigh, hitching your leg up around his waist. The new angle allows him to grind against you, and you gasp at the friction. Your head falls back against the wall, breaking the kiss.

"Andy," you pant, your voice a mix of protest and plea.

He takes advantage of your exposed neck, placing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your throat. He trails his lips up to your ear. "You are mine," he growls, nipping at your earlobe. "Have I not made that clear from the first night I claimed you, sweetheart."

His words send a shiver down your spine. You want to argue, to deny the claim he's making on you, but your body is singing with need. Andy's hand slips under your shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin.

"You can’t tell me you don't want this," he challenges, his voice husky. “I know your body too well now. If I put my hand between your legs, I know I’ll find you wet for me.”

Your breath catches in your throat as Andy's words send a rush of heat through your body. You know he's right - you can feel the slick evidence of your arousal. But you refuse to give in so easily.

"That doesn't mean anything," you say, trying to keep your voice steady. "My body's reactions don't change the fact that you're making decisions about our lives without me."

Andy pulls back slightly, his piercing blue eyes studying your face. His hand moves from under your shirt to cup your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle.

"Old habits die hard, sweetheart. I'm used to making decisions and having them followed without question."

You blink in surprise at his admission. It's more than you expected from him.

"But if I left every decision up to you now, we'd never get anywhere," Andy continues, his thumb stroking your cheek. "You'd keep fighting this, keep denying what's between us."

You want to argue, but you know there's truth in his words. You've been resisting at every turn, even as your body betrays you with its desire for him.

"That doesn't make it right," you say softly, your anger deflating slightly. "I need to have a say in my own life, Andy. In our life together, if that's what this is going to be. Do you even want that? Want us?"

Andy's eyes search yours for a long moment. "We will have our wedding, and I have some stipulations, but I’ll leave the rest to you. September fifteenth, and we leave the next day for our honeymoon in Italy."

It's not what you want, but it's the first thing he’s giving you. You let out a shaky breath, nodding.

He steps away from you completely, and your body falls forward slightly without his pinning you to the wall. Once he steadies you, he begins to walk away.

“The wedding planners will be here tomorrow morning at ten, and then after lunch I need you to accompany me to a business meeting with one of my lawyers.”

You stand there for a moment, processing Andy's words. A mixture of emotions swirls within you - frustration at his continued control, a flare of disappointment of him leaving you unsatisfied, and apprehension about these meetings he has already arranged.

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts. "Wait," you call out. "Why are we meeting with a lawyer? Aren’t you technically a lawyer?”

“Yes,” he answers quickly, turning back to look at you briefly, “but does a doctor not have their own doctors?”

You nod, and he resumes his progress down the hall.

You watch Andy walk away, your mind reeling from the conversation and the intense moment you just shared. Part of you wants to call him back, to continue the argument or maybe even give in to the desire still thrumming through your body. But you stay silent, letting him go.

Once he's out of sight, you slump against the wall, taking deep breaths to calm your racing heart. The whiplash of emotions - anger, frustration, desire, and now a strange brand of hopeful wariness - leaves you feeling drained.

You push yourself off the wall and make your way to the room you’ve been given as a personal study. You need time to process everything that just happened. As you enter, your eyes land on the engagement ring glittering on your finger. You twist it absently, thinking about Andy's words.

A proper wedding. Your parents' joy. Andy's claim on you. It's all so overwhelming.

But what haunts you is was what he didn’t say.

Does he want a life together? Does he want an us?

Caught in the danger of that before, you were able to get away, but there’s no telling how dangerous Andy Barber is. You’ve only witnessed a fraction of his power and control. He’s created a connection with your parents. You have no doubt he knows far too much valuable information about your life, so would any kind of escape even be possible? And if it were, would anyone you left behind be safe?

In the room you’ve been given as your study, you spend some time tending to your collection of potted plants, carefully trimming away a few dead leaves and watering where you find dry soil. You settle into your favorite armchair and immerse yourself in a novel, getting lost in its pages until the housekeeper interrupts to announce that dinner is ready. You make your way to the dining room, but notice that your partner Andy is not there. When you ask about his absence, you’re told he went out to tend to some business. Afterwards, you retreat to the couch in the living room and watch old episodes of your favorite sitcom, finding comfort in the familiar characters and laughter.

You go to sleep alone for the first time since the night of his gala.

The hours tick by as you lay awake in bed, unable to sleep. The vast emptiness of the king-sized mattress seems to mock you, a stark reminder of Andy's absence. The night stretches on endlessly as you toss and turn in the vast, empty bed. The grandfather clock in the hallway chimes eleven, then midnight, then one. Where is Andy? What "business" could keep him out so late? You try to push away the nagging worry, reminding yourself that you shouldn't care, that his absence should be a relief. But a small traitorous part of your heart that has begun to yearn for his presence betrays you.

No, you don’t yearn for him. You’re just accustomed to him.

With each passing hour, your anxiety grows. Eventually you drift in and out of fitful sleep, your mind racing with thoughts of the day's events, the impending wedding, and the uncertain future that lies ahead.

You wake just enough to register Andy pulling your body to his chest as he settling in behind you. The first hints of dawn are only beginning to creep through the curtains, painting the room in soft hues of pink and gold, “Mmm, Andy?” you hum sleepily.

“Shh,” he coos, pressing a soft kiss to your neck, “you can sleep, sweetheart.”

And so you drift off again, unaware of your body softening in his arms.

But when your alarm goes off at seven, you’re alone in the bed once again.

You tell yourself you’re relieved.

You stretch and yawn, trying to shake off the lingering grogginess from your restless night. As you sit up, your eyes land on a note propped against the lamp on your nightstand. Andy's precise handwriting stares back at you:

Meeting ran late. Had to leave early for another. Remember - wedding planners at 10. Wear something nice for the lawyer meeting after lunch. - Andy

You crumple the note in your fist, a mixture of frustration and disappointment churning in your gut. Even when he's not here, Andy is directing your day. You force yourself out of bed, determined to at least choose your own outfit for the morning.

After a quick shower, you select a casual but stylish ensemble - fitted jeans and a soft, short sleeved sweater in a deep emerald green that brings out your eyes. As you're applying the last touches of makeup, your phone chimes with a text from your mom. The one silver lining with the turn of events after the weekend is that your relationship with your parents is back on track since you’re no longer hiding a sudden and inexplicable engagement to Andy.

After a solitary breakfast, you go back to your study and set to work at a beautiful desk near one of the windows, diving into emails and looking over the calendar of upcoming events and the needs for your team this week to be ready for your weekly 11am strategy session.

Back in the spring when you had taken on Andy Barber as a client for the largest gala and one of the largest events your company had ever planned, you had strategically not accepted any book dates for a full six weeks afterwards. You had wanted to ensure that everything went off perfect for the Barber Gala without compromising any events that would come right in its wake. The fee for the services of you and your team was more than enough to accommodate that break in the events schedule, and it was a decision that you were infinitely glad you had made as it had worked out well for suddenly being ensnared into Andy’s life. Rather than renting any formal office space, you and your team worked remotely and always went to clients and vendors or the event venue to meet rather than making them come to you. It had the added benefit of building rapport with people you worked with and enhancing your reputation as being a team who valued the partner you were working with.

With the break in the schedule and fully remote office, you had been able to fully put off any revelation about your new arrangements with your team of three. Even with the video chats, you’d simply used virtual backgrounds to mask your new surroundings.

You manage to wrap up the agenda for your 11am a few minutes before the wedding planners are expected to arrive. You tap your pen on your planner, mulling things over. Since events are in your blood, it’s possible you could wrap up an initial meeting with the wedding planners before your team’s meeting - especially because you’ve been through all this before, you know who the best vendors are, and you have stowed away a slew of ideas for the wedding you thought may at some point take place in the future with some unknown future husband. Worst case scenario, you’ll excuse yourself from Andy and the wedding planners for a few minutes at eleven to jump on the call, say you’ve got an awful headache or something, and hand over the meeting to your number two, Effy, and then get back to Andy. Something tells you Andy would not love you bailing completely at 11.

Satisfied enough with your game plan, you close your laptop and head toward the front of the palatial home to be present when the wedding planners arrive.

“Just in time,” Andy says as you enter the foyer.

You freeze momentarily at the sound and sight of Andy. He's leaning against the doorframe of his study, looking impeccable in a crisp white shirt and tailored slacks. His blue eyes rake over you appreciatively.

"You look nice," he says, his voice low and intimate.

“Thank you,” you respond, trying to keep your voice neutral.

He reaches you and cups your face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking your cheeks. Before you can react, he leans in and captures your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. Despite your desire to stay simmering with anger at him, you find yourself melting into the kiss - as always, your hands coming to rest on his chest.

When he pulls back, his eyes are dark with desire. "Good morning, sweetheart," he murmurs.

You're about to respond when the doorbell chimes, signaling the arrival of the wedding planners. Andy's hands drop from your face, one sliding down to the small of your back as he guides you towards the door.

"Shall we?" he asks, his tone light but leaving no room for argument.

You nod, squaring your shoulders as Andy opens the door to reveal the wedding planners.

Better known as your team - Effy, Lila, and Dev.

They cheer and shout “Surprise” and “Congratulations” and rush in with champagne, flowers, and a platter of pastries and fruit from one of your favorite bakery vendors.

Your jaw drops as you stare at your team in disbelief. Effy, your right-hand woman, is beaming as she holds out a bottle of Dom Pérignon. Lila, your creative genius, is practically bouncing with excitement, her arms full of a stunning bouquet of peonies and garden roses in shades of blush and cream. Dev, your logistics wizard, balances a tray laden with an assortment of pastries from Maison de Sucre, the French bakery you've used for countless events.

"What... how?" you stammer, torn between shock, joy, and a surge of anger at Andy for orchestrating this without your knowledge.

"Andy called us yesterday," Effy explains, her eyes sparkling. "He thought you might appreciate some familiar faces to help plan your big day - and who else would you trust to plan a rush wedding?"

You turn to glare at Andy, but he merely smirks. You’re acutely aware of not only a need to keep up appearances, but a want to save face on your part, as well. So as they laugh at your glare, you quickly shift into a pleasant game face and channel the part of you that does want to share in the excitement of your team, and rush to give them hugs and usher them inside.

in just under two hours, most of your wedding is planned. Your team came prepared, knew your tastes, and had connections they were ready and eager to tap for your whirlwind wedding.

Playing the part of Andy’s blissfully happy fiancé to keep your team from suspecting anything was amiss had been difficult and yet simple in equal measure.

Andy offers to leave when you suggest that you touch base for the weekly strategy session, but your team encourages him to stay. So he does. You marvel at how masterfully he charms everyone around him. You know he often manages this with you, as well.

Everything is on track with your team for the upcoming events - including a redistribution of tasks and responsibilities that they’ve already discussed to lighten your load leading up to the wedding. They insist so you can take care of all the bride things they imagine you’ll be doing leading up to the nuptials. Your eyes meet Andy’s, and you see the glow of satisfaction radiating off of him.

Your team begins to pack up their materials. You feel a mix of emotions swirling inside you. On one hand, you're touched by their enthusiasm and grateful for their expertise, their thoughtfulness. On the other, you feel guilty for the deception, for allowing them to believe in a fairytale romance that doesn't truly exist.

"Well, I think we've made excellent progress," Effy says, closing her laptop with a satisfied smile. "We'll get started on the vendor contracts right away and have them ready for your review by tomorrow afternoon."

You nod and smile. "Thank you all so much. I... I don't know what to say."

Lila gives you a warm hug. "We're just so happy for you! And don't worry about a thing - we'll make sure your day is absolutely perfect."

“I know you will.”

As they gather their things and head towards the door, you notice Andy hanging back, eyes ever watching all your interactions.

You walk your team to the door, exchanging final hugs and promises to touch base soon. As Dev, the last to leave, steps out, he turns back with a grin.

"By the way, boss, nice job keeping this under wraps. We had no idea!"

You force a laugh, hoping it doesn't sound as hollow as it feels. "Well, you know me. I love a good surprise."

As soon as the door closes behind them, you lean against it, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. When you open them, Andy is standing before you, his expression unreadable.

"That went well," he says casually.

You push off the door, anger flaring. "You had no right to involve my team without telling me."

Andy raises an eyebrow. "You wouldn’t have agreed, I know you’ll appreciate the gesture in the end, and they’re the best in the business, are they not?"

"That's not the point," you snap. "This is what we talked about yesterday! Making decisions without me!”

“This was already arranged before that discussion, and I didn’t want to ruin the surprise,” he says with a smirk. “You love a good surprise - you just said so yourself.”

You raise your hand to slap him, but he catches your wrist, his smirk vanishing, replaced with a stern look. You huff and try to pull away, but Andy's grip on your wrist tightens, his eyes darkening with a dangerous glint. In the next instant, he pulls you flush against his body, his other hand snaking around your waist to hold you in place. The sudden movement knocks the breath from your lungs, and you're acutely aware of every hard plane of his muscular form pressed against you.

"Careful, sweetheart," he growls, his voice low and menacing. "You seem to have forgotten who you're dealing with."

A chill runs down your spine as you're reminded of the power this man wields. The charming facade he'd worn for your team has vanished, replaced by the cold, calculating persona you've glimpsed before. His blue eyes, usually so captivating, now resemble chips of ice.

"Let me remind you," Andy continues, his breath hot against your ear. "I'm not just some wealthy businessman playing at power. I've built an empire, both in the light and the shadows. I've crushed men who dared to cross me."

His words send a shiver through you - fear and unwanted desire warring within. You try to push against his chest, but he doesn't budge.

"I'm not afraid of you," you say, your voice shakier than you'd like.

Andy chuckles darkly. "You have no reason to be as long as you don’t cross me."

He releases your wrist only to cup your face, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. "And here's the thing - I don't want you to fear me. But make no mistake - you are mine now. This is your life."

With lightning speed, Andy spins you around, pressing you face-first against the door. His body cages you in, one hand still gripping your wrist while the other slides up to wrap around your throat. Not choking, but asserting control. You gasp, your heart racing as Andy's lips brush against your ear. "The sooner you accept that, the easier things will be."

His hand tightens slightly on your throat, just enough to make breathing a conscious effort. You should be terrified, should be fighting to get away. But your traitorous body responds to his dominance, a rush of heat pooling low in your belly.

"Andy," you whisper, unsure if it's a plea or a protest.

“You'll be my wife, my partner. But you need to understand your place in this world we're building together."

He releases your throat, his hand sliding down to cup your breast through your sweater. You arch into his touch involuntarily, earning a dark chuckle from him.

"That's it," he growls. "Remember how good we are together.”

Andy's hand kneads your breast as his lips trail hot kisses down your neck. Despite your anger and frustration, a soft moan escapes your lips before you can stop it.

"That's it, sweetheart," Andy murmurs against your skin. "Let go of it all."

His free hand slides down your body, deftly unbuttoning your jeans. You know you should stop him, should push him away, but the heat of his body against yours, the skilled touch of his fingers, makes it hard to think straight.

Just as his hand slips beneath the waistband of your panties, there’s an insistent buzzing of his phone.

He answers the phone even as his fingers begin to work the slick lips of your cunt.

“Yes?” he prompts.

You can hear every word without the phone being put on speaker since Andy’s pressed up against you.

"Mr. Barber? The cars are ready for your lunch meeting, sir."

“Good. The future Mrs. Barber and I will be down in no more than ten minutes,” he says. There’s an acknowledgment on the other end of the line, and then hangs up.

Andy thrusts a finger inside you, making you gasp, before withdrawing his hand completely. “Go get changed,” he says, “you heard, we have our next appointment and need to be on our way.”

You're left breathless and frustrated as Andy steps away, his warmth disappearing from your back. Your body trembles with unfulfilled desire, and you have to resist the urge to reach for him, to beg him to finish what he started.

"Andy," you begin, your voice husky with need.

He cuts you off with a sharp look. "We don't have time. Go change. Now."

The command in his voice sends another shiver through you. You want to argue, to demand he explain himself, to finish what he started. But the ice in his eyes tells you it would be futile. With shaking hands, you button your jeans and smooth down your sweater.

"Fine," you say, trying to inject some venom into your voice.

You turn and head towards the stairs, feeling Andy's eyes on you the whole way.

NEXT PART: CRACKING LOCKS

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