I wake up in the morning feeling sexually tense and frustrated. When I roll over in my bed I huff loudly and sit up, grabbing the pillow next to me.

I shove my face into it and breathe in his scent.

I can’t believe it. He came to lie in my bed again last night and then snuck off before I woke up again.

Why the hell is he doing that? Why doesn’t he just stay and sleep with me?

I have no idea what this means.

I get dressed quickly and storm through the house looking for him.

I have to confront him about this. I can’t keep waking up surrounded by his smell, but without the pleasure of even knowing he was there all along. I want to know what is making him leave—or even what is making him come to sleep in my bed in the first place.

One of the housekeepers tells me that he is in his home office, working.

I march towards it angrily. I want to get to the bottom of this and resolve whatever is going on between us. I deserve to know. He is being so sneaky. Creeping in and out of my bed like that just seems wrong.

As I walk towards his office, I can hear his voice carrying out into the hallway. It’s deep and aggressive. I slow down, walking softer so that I don’t disturb him.

“What the fuck do you mean?” he snaps angrily.

I pause just outside the door, listening.

“How the hell did that happen? Where was security?”

He sounds furious.

“So how did it go missing, then?”

There is a long pause.

“For fuck's sake. How much of the product was tampered with? Did you check the security footage?”

I jump in fright as he walks out of the office with the phone pressed against his ear.

He glares at me. “I’ll call you later,” he says, then hangs up the phone.

“What the fuck are you doing eavesdropping on my call?” he growls darkly. “Are you in the habit of sneaking around and listening to things that have nothing to do with you?”

I think it is very hypocritical of him to talk about someone sneaking around as though he hasn’t been doing exactly that every night.

But at this point, I am not even bothered about him sneaking into my bed at night anymore. I am more concerned with whatever was happening on the phone right now. It sounded really serious, and like something that deserves all of our attention.

“Did something happen?” I ask bluntly, ignoring his anger.

“Nothing that you need to be concerned about,” he replies with curt annoyance.

“Don’t treat me like a child. Did something happen to one of your businesses?” I ask again, more forcefully.

“I think I just made myself very clear, Darya. This is nothing that you need to be worried about or interfere with.” He has lowered his voice, and his eyes are darkening, as though he is trying to display his authority. He steps towards me, standing over me, trying to intimidate me into backing off.

This is bullshit. I know about business. My family has many different branches of business, and I know that problems aren’t just small annoyances—they affect everything. They can affect income, flow, and impact the people working for you.

I place my hand on his chest and push hard so he is forced to take a step back.

“Stefano, don’t you dare, for even a second, think that I don’t know how businesses function. I come from a strong family and have grown up in a very business-oriented environment. Now tell me what the hell is going on. This isn’t just about you. This is about me as well; my family, your workers, everyone will be affected by problems with the business, and I can, whether you like it not, help in some way. I’m not interested in some macho bullshit. Tell me what is going on.”

Stefano blinks a few times. I can see by his expression that he was not expecting me to be so forceful about this. His thoughts are obviously running wild, because his eyes are darting from my face to his office and back again.