𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐄

𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

𝐅𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐔𝐑𝐘

The golf course sprawled out before us, an expanse of lush greenery dotted with perfectly manicured fairways, sand traps, and serene water hazards.

The sun hung high in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the picturesque landscape, and a gentle breeze rustled through the trees that lined the course.

Demetrio, Bartholomew, Sebastian, Thaddeus, and I were in the midst of a leisurely game of golf, a welcome respite from our busy lives in the shadowy world of clandestine dealings.

We stood on the neatly trimmed grass, each with a club in hand, our attire a mix of casual elegance and sporty sophistication.

Thaddeus stepped up to the tee. He lined up his shot, his eyes locked on the distant flag fluttering in the breeze. With a powerful swing, he sent the ball sailing through the air, its trajectory guided by the precision only an experienced golfer possessed.

As the others followed suit, focused on their respective shots, Roux entered the scene. Dressed in smart casual attire, he carried an air of curiosity and mystery.

His gaze shifted from one face to another, studying my friends with a mixture of intrigue and uncertainty. He doesn’t recognize them; they were simply strangers in Roux’s world.

Demetrio, busy lining up his shot, noticed Roux’s arrival. He spared my brother a nod of acknowledgement, understanding that Roux’s presence was significant.

Once Roux and I were alone, the silence was broken by Roux’s hesitant voice. “I saw Teagan earlier,” He began, his words tinged with a mix of hope and frustration.

I feigned interest, my poker face expertly concealing the tumultuous emotions that surged beneath the surface. “Did you now?” I replied, not revealing that Teagan’s with me.

Roux leaned in closer as he began to recount his encounter with Teagan at the market. “I called her, but she just looked at me. She didn’t say a word, Dacre. It was as if she didn’t even recognize me.”

My expression remained carefully neutral. “That’s strange,” I replied. “Did she seem all right otherwise?”

Roux nodded, his brow furrowing. “She seemed fine, but something was off. She just walked away without acknowledging me.” His voice held a trace of sadness, as if he were searching for answers in her unreadable gaze.

I knew I had to tread carefully, allowing Roux to hold onto the fragile hope he carried.

—

Demetrio, ever the conversation starter, broached the subject. “What exactly did you and Roux discussed out there?”

I took a moment to collect my thoughts. The weight of the situation hung heavily in the air. “Roux mentioned that he saw my wife at the market,” I began. “He tried to talk to her, but she didn’t recognize him.”

Bartholomew, never one to beat around the bush, leaned forward, his eyes keenly focused on me. “What’s your plan now? Roux is getting closer.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. Sebastian chimed in with a hint of empathy in his voice. “If you were to come clean with Teagan now, maybe there’s a chance she’ll forgive you.”

Thaddeus, ever the voice of caution, shook his head. “Sebastian, as much as that might be the right thing to do, it could also make things worse. We don’t even know Teagan.”

The room fell into a completative silence, each man lost in their thoughts, knowing that the delicate web of secrets surrounding Teagan and I was growing more tangled by the day.

Nathaniel’s arrival stirred the air with an aura of intrigue. Nathaniel, ever the charismatic figure, flashed a charming smile as he strolled in, one eyebrow playfully raised.

“What have I missed in this gathering?”

Sebastian, who always had a taste for finer things, shot Nathaniel a curious look. “Just in time, Sinclair.”

Nathaniel leaned back in his chair, his expression one of satisfied pride as he retrieved a bottle from his satchel. “A masterpiece crafted with precision from the Devereaux distillery,” He declared.

With rapt attention, we all watched as Nathaniel expertly uncorked the bottle, allowing the rich aroma of the liquor to waft through the room. The amber liquid glimmered enticingly in the soft light.

Nathaniel regaled us with tales of his acquisition, each word spoken like a poetry, a testament to the passion he held for such endeavors. His captivating narrative drew them in, making the anticipation for that first sip all the more tantalizing.

Nathaniel turned his attention to me. “Speaking of the finer things in life, Dacre, how is your charming wife? Still as enchanting as ever, I presume?”

“Why do you ask, Nathaniel? Curious about the state of my marriage?” My response carried a subtle undercurrent of jealousy, though I tried to mask it with casual indifference.

The tension in the room was palpable, like a storm brewing on the horizon. They exchanged glances, sensing the shift in atmosphere, but they remained silent, allowing Nathaniel and I to navigate the currents of our conversation.

Nathaniel leaned back in his chair, his sardonic smile never faltering. He fixed his gaze on me, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Marriage, Dacre? Do you really call that farce between you and Teagan a marriage? It’s amusing how you lay claim to something that was never truly yours.”

My jaw clenched, my knuckles whitening as I gripped the arms of my chair. I am well aware that my marriage to Teagan had started under unconventional circumstances, but his taunting words struck a nerve.

“You may want to remember,” Nathaniel continued, his tone laced with mockery. “Teagan never belonged to you in the first place. You were just another player in her story.”

I could take no more of his taunts. My temper flared like an uncontrollable fire, fueled by jealousy and resentment.

In a swift, explosive motion, I lunged out of my chair, my fingers curling around Nathaniel’s collar. I pulled him close, our faces inches apart, and without a warning, my fist landed with a solid thud against his face.

“Fuck you, Nathaniel!”

—

The room erupted into chaos. Demetrio and Thaddeus, quick to react, rushed to pull Dacre away from Nathaniel. Bartholomew, Thaddeus, and Demetrio were torn between trying to calm him and assessing the damage to Nathaniel.

Nathaniel, surprisingly composed despite the blow, wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand and grinned, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Oh, Dacre, you really do have a fiery temper, don’t you?”

Dacre seethed with anger but allowed our friends to restrain him. The confrontation had taken an unexpected turn, and the atmosphere in the room had turned ice-cold.

TO BE CONTINUED.