It's been three hours. I repeatedly tried calling Dimitri's cell but he conveniently left it at home. In the time he was gone, I managed to chew down a piece of toast and only drank two sips of tea before pouring it down the drain.

I've rearranged the pillows on the sofa that didn't need rearranging. I've walked the lengths of the penthouse and counted the swirls in the ceiling. Each daunting hour passes and Dimitri's nowhere to be seen.

He's found out. He knows. He knows! Shit, shit. I've frozen up with anxiety and thought of all the terrible possible scenarios that can arise when he returns to the Penthouse. I finally manage to calm my nerves down and sit on the sofa when the elevators open. Dimitri walks out, his sleeves rolled up and looking defeated as ever. Shit.

I await for the heated eruption to blow on me. It doesn't come. "Dimitri, what happened?" He exits the elevator, mutters God's name and wipes his hand over his face. I scramble towards him slowly. My heart has turned into a racing track, with the silent seconds crumbling over it.

He sighs dramatically before his face lights up like a firework, "He signed the company over to me."

Everything freezes for a second then I'm running towards him. His arms fit around my waist snug and I throw my arms over his shoulders before he lifts me up and twirls me around in a euphoric embrace. The laughter from him is hazy and melodic, he's so carefree and victorious. In that moment, the tension slips out of my feet and I forget all the terrible things I need to confess to him.

"There's a problem though." I find my feet back on the ground.

"Hm?"

"It's mine on paper but there are still a few details that need to be ironed out. The only problem is if I fuck it up in this two week transition period, he can change the board's mind and I'll lose it again and–"

I rub his cheek in an affectionate manner, "None of that will happen, stop worrying. It's just two weeks. You've waited years for this moment to arrive and two weeks is nothing - it'll fly by. You've done it, Dimitri. You've got what you wanted."

His lips pull into a hazy smile. He stares at me in an enchanted affection manner, like I'm the prettiest woman he's laid his eyes on. It's all fake. It's all a facade. "I haven't got everything yet," he murmurs, gulping some of his pride down.

"How'd it happen?"

"There was arguing, screaming, yelling. Then finally, with enough pressure he was coerced into it. I also told him to fuck off and he doesn't get to drag your name into it," he grins victoriously at me. He's on the edge of euphoria, so insanely high and has no plans on coming down. I'm happy. For the first time in months, I'm vibrantly jubilant.

"We should celebrate," I suggest. His hand's twine around my waist. It's a little too early to be celebrating anything but he deserves it. A victory for him is a victory for him. All the champagne, balloons and glitter will make us feel better.

"Yes, we should."

"I should book us a table at your favourite place tonight. It's on me."

I scramble for the hallway but he pulls on my wrist, drawing back into his embrace. He's feigning a confused daze, "What? Only tonight, not right now?"

"I don't understand what–" he closes the gap between us and kisses me. His fingers hold my chin in place as his lips find mine in a frenzy. It's slow and daunting, so overly testing and teasing. There's no air in my lungs and my hands twine around his neck all over again.

"I was thinking we could celebrate in other ways..." his lips move down to my neck. I murmur out a slight moan when he nibbles on the skin.

"We have different definitions of a celebration. Your definition of a celebration sounds like an awful lot of work."

"Don't worry, I'll do the work. You can lay there and relax." With that, he props me over his shoulder and charges for his bedroom. We didn't make it to his favourite restaurant that evening.

Saturday's are lazy days. Let me explain – I've lost count of how many times we've had sex. It makes it worse that they've done it multiple times a day too.

The sofas, the bed, the Persian rug, kitchen island, home office, in the shower, the dining table. There wasn't a surface he hadn't covered. The week has slugged by slow and leisurely, in a euphoric tumble of name-calling and sleepless nights.

We've hit a new milestone in this relationship. I've started waking up in his bed, with his arms around me and his face buried into the crook of my neck. He calls me the sweetest of names in adoration and every evening, he cooks for me while belting through a Shakira and Britney Spears playlist in his horrible 'X-factor worthy' voice. I beg to differ.

Over the days, we've drunk too much wine and had to soak it up with too many croissants in a sleazy attempted evening of a quiz night. One night he asked me to, "Baila Conmigo," and I took him on the offer. We salsa danced in the kitchen at 3 AM in the morning with the moonlight as the audience.

He knew exactly what he was doing: guiding me through the dips and twirls. The steady measured movements of his feet and the grin on his face was enough to have me squealing along. Somewhere in the passion of his steps and twirls, my heart dropped out and attached to his sleeve.

Everything is perfect. Little did I know this devastating illusion of a saccharine mellow curtain would come crashing down in a matter of days.

Saturday's are lazy days. We're propped on the cream sofa, my body pressed underneath Dimitri's. Dimitri kissing the weak spot on my neck - he's aware it makes me lose control and I can barely murmur a sentence out. His hands trail further down and he inches out of his grey sweatpants so they hang mid-thighs. "Hold still," it's a command. I do as told.

The elevator door dings open, "Yo shitface, Dad texted you– WHAT THE FUCK!" Theodore's voice vacuums in a with a horrific gasp.

My body goes rock solid underneath Dimitri's and I'm gazing at him in shock. Dimitri's pulling his sweatpants up and propping up like a soldier called to attention. I'm pulling my dress down in a frenzy, I don't have time to find my panties.

"Theodore! What the fuck!" Dimitri yells at him. It's not only Theodore, Christian is with him too. Both of them are red as tomatoes and simultaneously crane their faces to the wall.

"We saw nothing!" Christian chimes in panic. Theodore nods in a violent shake. They take their time turning around after I've managed to make myself look more presentable. They can barely meet my eyes. "Uh– we called but you didn't answer," they explain to Dimitri.

I'm staring at everything else but them. They've just seen Dimitri and I getting intimate. Heat pricks the back of my neck and I'm growing hot with embarrassment.

Dimitri taps his pockets before pulling his phone out and scrolling down the notifications. "It was silent." They both gulp and flick through a file they're holding.

"You need to sign these," Theodore explains. As if this isn't awkward enough.

Dimitri's hand reaches for his stubble and he scratches it, "Come into my office boys," They meekly follow behind him, passing me a fleeting gaze.

Twenty minutes later, tumultuous laughter bleating down the hallway, "I think we gave him blue balls," Theodore's choking in the joke he throws to Christian. It cracks a smile on my lips too. I prop the vogue back onto the coffee table and stand to meet them. I've missed teaching both of them. They're like Tom & Jerry, ready to argue with one another but never departing.

They march for the elevator. "Wouldn't you like to stay boys?"

Chrisitan passes his best friend a warning look. It screams a big fat no. He's still drowning in the awkwardness. "Nah, it's okay. We were only there to get some paperwork signed from D."

"Oh, what for?"

"Summer placement. I'm bored at home." The doors open and they press for the bottom floor. "Feel free to continue!" They scream at me while the door closes. My cheeks flame with shame.

Dimitri walks out of his office. He looks mentally shaken from the event. "Idiots," he mutters under his breath. He reaches down and picks up a pile of black lace, "Oh how did they get here?" My panties dangling from his finger. I snatch it off him and scowl, he chortles back a laugh.

"Why were they here?" I ask propping a hand onto my hip.

"They've decided to pester me about a summer internship at Asterio Industries."

"That's nice. They could use the experience and make their summer useful."

He hums in thought and then snips a laugh from the back of his throat. It reminds me of Mr Burns from the Simpsons. "I've assigned them to Anwar." He bites back a smug laugh.

"You're evil and he's gonna hate you. They're a handful. Are you aware? Christian got in trouble for roasting a teacher's hairline?"

"Exactly. That's Anwar's problem, not mine. I do feel bad for his hairline, Christian might roast it too." With that, he stalks away, not a single ounce of sympathy for his poor best friend and his hairline. "Oh!" he turns back.

I'm already filling in the sentence. "Yes I know, we have dinner with your business buddy."

He passes me a smile. "Be ready at 6,"

Anwar is conversing with Dimitri when I trot down the stairs. I didn't know Anwar had stopped by while I was getting ready. They haven't heard me come down yet. I wish I had been looking outside the window because he slips Anwar a cheque. It's the same cheque I gave a few months ago.

Dimitri merely says two words to him, "Find out," Anwar nods like the obedient co-worker and best friend he is. There's nothing I can do. My voice is stuck in my throat. Dimitri's going to find out.

Anwar's eyes trail up and Dimitri turns. "Hey, Bella. Come down." His hand reaches out, waiting for me to grasp it. I hesitantly do so. Anwar waves us off and Dimitri floors it to the restaurant because we're running late. He glides in out of traffic easily with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on my thigh. We don't talk much.

We saunter our way into the restaurant, my neck is tight with anxiety. Dimitri announces to a staff member of his name and he ticks it down, says something else to him and hurries away.

As he hurries away, we find ourselves alone in the enclosed entrance. Dimitri shifts closer to me and collides into my shoulder by accident. His arms snake around my waist. A minute passes, his gaze is stoic before he dips his head down and kisses my jaw. I need to tell him. This is not an ideal situation but the bubble of anxiety in the pit of my stomach won't let me sit still.

"Dimitri," I mumble his name in a nauseating tumble. He hums against my jaw. "I need... I have to tell you something about me,"

He nips my jaw in the dim lights of the restaurant. We're standing near the entrance of the podium, waiting for our table to be cleared. It's apparently a private booth with Dimitri's new business investor. Dimitri's using the free time purposefully, his lips move down my neck in a frenzied embrace. "What do you have to tell me?" his fingers drift down my waist until they meet on the inside of my thigh. I bite my lip, I'm losing all sense of direction.

"It's about my name," I barely scrape the sentence out.

"Yeah, I know. You have a very pretty name. I'm going to be calling it all night after this dinner," It's a promise. His fingers ride higher. My breath is shallow and my hand jerks onto his tie to stabilise myself. He grins against my neck, proud of the reaction he's coaxed out of me.

"I used to live in..." his fingers hook into the thin band. Shit, we're in a public place. My eyes dart around in case anyone can see us. No one, just him and his shameless antics.

"Barcelona. I know." he fills the sentence. His fingers skim over the top, "Lace," he states.

A shadow appears, footsteps marching forward. "We'll finish this later." Is he talking about the conversation or the teasing? Dimitri drops his hand and moves back. I hollow out a timid sigh and release his tie. He merely passes me a smug simper before his cold hands interlocked with mine. The waiter pulls us through and leads us down a dimly lit row of booths. I squeeze Dimitri's hand harder, tighter. I need him to fuse into my skin.

"You never mentioned who this new business investor was," I frown at him.

"He's a good friend of mine. He wanted to celebrate my new success of finally getting the company and asked me to bring my wife along."

"That's sweet of him." When my eyes lift up back to the table, I freeze in my tracks. His face is wrinkled and cracked with a wicked grin. He's wearing an expensive tan suit with a checkered tie. He raises his champagne glass to me.

Dimitri's new business investor is Hugo Antolin and I'm about to have dinner with him.