Allurement

by Apollo888

Now established in London with their two children, Mary and Matthew live a busy and fulfilling life together. One night with someone from their past threatens to change everything. A Mary and Matthew modern AU story. Part of the Breaking Bread modern AU series. The sequel to The New Normal.

Author's Note:

In this next episode of the Breaking Bread modern AU series, Mary and Matthew are living in London with their two young children, George and Victoria. Adjusting to their new life as a family, their world is thrown off kilter by the appearance of a face from the past, someone who has an impact on both of them for very different reasons, and who will threaten what they've built together.

I try and ensure that each of these stories stands alone. Reading the rest of the series beforehand would be helpful, but is not necessary.

Please mind the rating. This is the most explicit series that I write, on several levels, for reasons that become apparent in the context of the plot, and the evolution of the characters. Mature readers only, please.

Many thanks to all my readers. This series was made possible only because I was lucky enough to have the interest and encouragement of people who wanted me to try modern AU Mary and Matthew. Please enjoy.

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Allurement:

Grantham House, St. James Square, London, England, February 17, 2020

"George, what are your teachers' names?"

George Matthew Crawley, all of two years and seven months old, looked up from his bowl of cereal and scrunched his cherubic face as he contemplated the question. His little mouth worked open and closed as he stared at his mother, standing nearby with her cup of tea, waiting on his answer.

"Come on, George. You can do it."

The little boy's eyes darted over to his Papa, sitting at the breakfast table next to him. The tall man was smiling at him, his blue eyes just as bright as his own.

"Mrs. Dilan…" George muttered.

"Mrs. Dylan, yes," Lady Mary Crawley repeated, nodding to her son. "Who else?"

George frowned. "Mrs. Amanie…"

"Mrs. Amani, very good, George!" Matthew exclaimed.

"It isn't as if that one's hard," she scolded her husband lightly. "And who's your third teacher, George?"

The toddler stared down at his bowl, as though the answer would be found there somehow.

"Mrs…" Matthew prompted him.

"Matthew!" she snapped. "No helping!"

"Mrs…aah…" George mumbled, looking over at his father.

Matthew mouthed the answer quietly.

Mary rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"Mrs…Co?" George said.

"Mrs. Cole! Yes! Brilliant!" Matthew cheered, clapping his hands.

"For God's sake," she sighed, shaking her head. "I suppose you're going to go to all his tests and exams for the rest of his life and feed him answers there, too?"

"I hardly think that helping a 2 year-old out a little bit is cause for concern as to his academic abilities," Matthew retorted. "Compared to some of the other boys in his class, he's well ahead. Some of them still can't talk."

"Yes, well rather than be satisfied with being average, I believe George should aspire to something a bit better than that," she shot back, going over to the sink and pouring out the rest of her tea.

Matthew gave his son a teasing smirk before getting up from his chair and going over to his perturbed wife. "I don't see why it's even necessary to send him to school so early on, and a private school, at that. I didn't start until JK."

"Yes, and look how well that turned out," she grumbled. "Public school…gracious me."

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?" Matthew protested, coming up behind her and taking hold of her hips. He sniffed her hair and gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

"Get off of me! You need to take your son to school, and I need to get to the office," she chastised him.

"Give us a kiss first," Matthew whinged, wrapping his arms tight around her waist.

"George gets a kiss, not you!" she objected, arching her eyebrow at him.

"Give us a kiss or we'll all end up horribly late," Matthew pouted, not relaxing his grip.

"Unhand me, vile fiend," she warned. "I do not kiss under duress or coercion."

"Is that so? What about last night when we played 'interrogate the prisoner'? You seemed to respond to my pressure tactics quite well," Matthew teased.

"Matthew," she whispered, a blush coming to her cheeks as she recalled their role-playing in the bedroom last night. He had handcuffed her to the bedpost and drawn far more than a kiss out of her. "Not in front of the children."

"All right, all right," Matthew relented, releasing her and stepping back. "Off you go."

She turned around, grabbed him by the back of the neck, and pulled him into a warm kiss.

George squealed happily at the sight.

"Have a good day," she smiled, patting his cheek.

"Uh…you, too," Matthew mumbled, smiling at her stupidly.

She circled quickly around the large kitchen island and went over to George's high chair. Leaning down, she kissed her son on the cheek and smiled when he reached his pudgy little arms out to her in his version of a hug.

"Have a good day, my darling boy," she laughed. "Say goodbye to Mama, now."

"Bye!" George gurgled.

She petted his head affectionately, careful not to disturb his perfectly combed blond hair. Giving her husband a smile, she turned and headed down the hall to the foyer.

"Lady Mary!" Nanny called, coming down the stairs.

"Ah, just the little lady I was looking for," Mary smiled as Nanny came over holding Mary's six-month old daughter, Victoria, in her arms. "Hello, princess. Mama has to go to work. Be a good girl for Nanny, yes?"

"Ma…ma…" Victoria babbled, reaching out her little hand to her mother.

Mary took her hand and kissed it. "Thank you. Have a good day."

Victoria grunted in protest as Mary stepped away.

"Oh, do remember to give the list of supplies that you need to Mr. Crawley," Mary reminded Nanny. "He'll pick them up later on his way home from the office. He should be home by six. I'll likely be closer to seven. When you pick up George from school later, please ask Mrs. Dylan for another Scholastic order form. Mr. Crawley seems to have lost the last one. I would rather just order the books online, but then he's even more likely to forget without a physical reminder."

"Yes, Lady Mary," Nanny nodded, rocking Victoria slightly to calm her down.

Mary slipped into her Jimmy Choo leather boots and left the house, walking quickly through the brisk winter air to the Range Rover parked at the kerb. She started the car and shivered for a moment, blowing into her gloved hands and rubbing them together, her husband's voice in her head reminding her to wait 30 seconds for the engine to warm before putting the vehicle in gear. She counted to about twenty before shifting and heading off.

Office of Mary Crawley Interior Design Inc., Mayfair, London, England, February 17, 2020

"Good morning. What have we got?" Mary asked, stepping out of the elevator and taking off her sunglasses.

"A full day," her assistant and best friend, Anna Smith, answered. The petite blonde rose from her chair and followed Mary through the work area and into her large office. Mary's morning cup of coffee was already on her desk, still steaming hot, and a chocolate croissant was perched delectably on a vintage China plate taken long ago from her family home of Downton Abbey in Yorkshire.

Mary sat down at her desk and touched the large computer monitor, bringing the screen to life. Anna took her usual seat on the leather chair opposite the glass desk and swiped her fingers across her tablet, bringing up Mary's calendar and highlighting the appointments for the day on Mary's screen.

"The permits are in for the Singh residence. I set up a 10:00 a.m. call with the contractors so you can give them your instructions. We got an email from Lloyd at Marble City. He has a shipment from Italy that he wants you to take a look at. The early afternoon is reserved for you to decide on the kitchen cabinets and bathroom fixtures for the Armistead project, and you're meeting Lady Sybil and Lady Edith at 3 for Pilates," Anna recited.

"Well, Edith and I will be doing Pilates. Sybil will just be walking around trying not to go into early labour. That is a full day," Mary nodded, perusing the screen. "I've got a dozen to-dos left over from Friday as well."

"We've been very busy lately, which is good," Anna remarked.

"It's brilliant," Mary agreed. "Taking less time off after Victoria was born was a wise decision. Many of the clients didn't even notice I was gone, and I think we're at an all-time high for active projects."

"We are," Anna confirmed. "You could hire some juniors at this rate."

"No, I like that it's just us, rather," Mary nodded. "Contracting out the digital rendering and so on still makes the most sense, but it's nice to be in a position to contemplate expansion."

Anna smiled.

"Let's head over to Marble City closer to 6. I can go straight home from there. Call Philip back at the City and thank him for getting our permits through, and ask him – nicely – when we can expect the next batch," Mary instructed.

"I'm always nice," Anna replied.

"Yes, but you have given him a hard time in the past," Mary noted.

Anna huffed. "City workers are the laziest bunch of…"

"Anna," Mary warned.

"All right. I'll be nice," Anna grumbled.

Mary smiled and sipped her coffee. Putting the mug down on the coaster, she pulled a piece of the chocolate croissant off and popped it in her mouth, looking over at Anna expectantly. Her assistant kept working on her tablet.

"Anna?" Mary prompted her finally.

"Yeah?" Anna asked, looking up, tablet at the ready.

"Do you have anything to share?" Mary questioned, arching her eyebrow at her.

Anna looked down and smiled. "About what?"

"Anna…" Mary pressed.

Anna grinned and looked back up. "Oh, it was amazing! Absolutely amazing!"

Mary laughed and took another sip of coffee. "All right, let's hear it, and spare no detail."

Anna's eyes lit up as she put her tablet on the desk. "Well, the first thing he did was to send flowers to my Mum. I think that's the first time she's gotten flowers from a man on Valentine's since…forever. She was over the moon."

Mary smiled and nodded. For the past seven months, Anna had been dating Alexander Lewis, a senior partner at the law firm of Harvell, Carter & Lewis LLP, who also happened to be Matthew's boss and best friend. They had met last July when Anna randomly ran into Matthew and Alex at the grocers, and the two of them had been inseparable ever since. Last Friday was their first Valentine's Day together, and Mary had demanded that Anna have details ready for this morning.

"My flowers were waiting for me when I got home," Anna continued. "They were absolutely gorgeous – Stargazer lilies, and red orchids, and alstroemeria – thank goodness he bought a vase for them because I didn't have one nearly big enough."

Mary laughed in approval.

"He cooked dinner, this seafood risotto that was delicious, and we had wine, and a nice tiramisu for dessert. The flowers and dinner alone already made it the best Valentine's I've ever had," Anna beamed.

"But that wasn't it, surely?" Mary asked.

Anna smiled and shook her head. "No, definitely not."

Mary took another bite of her chocolate croissant.

"Once we cleared the dishes, he took out his phone and texted someone, and the next thing I knew, this staff of women were at the front door," Anna recounted.

"Staff of women?" Mary repeated in confusion.

"Yeah, he arranged for staff from the spa at The Savoy to come to my flat!" Anna exclaimed. "I was completely shocked, and a bit worried that the place was a mess, but he sat me down in the living room and made me wait while everything was set up. It was so posh, honestly. I got a manicure, pedicure, facial, everything, and we had a couples massage afterwards. They even brought those tables with them. There was music and candles, I didn't even recognize my own living room."

"Your own private spa. Well done, Alex," Mary remarked.

"They left as soon as we were done. We relaxed on the couch in our robes, and he gave me these," Anna said, turning her head to show off her sparkling diamond and blue sapphire cluster earrings.

"Oh, Anna, those are beautiful," Mary nodded. "Harry Winston, correct?"

Anna nodded. "I didn't want to wear them to work, but I knew you'd want to see them."

"They're lovely. And? What else?" Mary asked.

Anna looked down and bit her bottom lip. "And…I made him breakfast the next morning."

"Anna Smith, you temptress! Luring a handsome millionaire to your bed," Mary teased. "Well done."

Anna blushed and laughed freely. "All right, what about you? What did the two of you get up to?"

"Oh, we're an old married couple," Mary rolled her eyes. "Valentine's Day is for new love like yours, those wonderful early days where you can't keep your hands off each other. We spent Valentine's trying to put the kids to bed."

Anna looked at her suspiciously. "You have a nanny for that. There's no way that Matthew wouldn't do something special for you for Valentine's, and you've only been married for three years, besides."

Mary put her coffee mug back down and grinned.

"I knew it!" Anna declared. "All right, come on."

"We did go home and see the children before they went to bed. That part was true," Mary pointed out. "We went out afterwards. Japanese for dinner, which was fantastic. We had robata, where they grill it in front of you and it was so good. He actually took me out dancing after that to a nice little jazz place in Soho. It was small, cosy, dark, and the band was excellent. It was really great. I haven't gone dancing in forever."

"That sounds romantic," Anna smiled.

"It was, actually," Mary agreed. "We stayed quite late and got very drunk, eventually went home after midnight and he made me breakfast in the morning."

Anna laughed. "And what did he get you?"

"Peonies, of course," Mary answered. "And a new chair for my office at home. He also gave me a lovely bracelet. I didn't wear it today but I'll show it to you when I do."

"Well, it's good to know that romance doesn't die for you old married couples," Anna joked.

"No, I suppose it doesn't," Mary laughed. "All right, bring in copies of the permits and the latest design plans for the Singh residence and we'll get ready for this call."

"Right away," Anna nodded, rising from her chair and heading for the door.

Law Offices of Harvell, Carter & Lewis LLP, Fleet Street, London, England, February 20, 2020

Lavinia Swire walked briskly down the hallway, her high heels clicking on the dark blue tile. She turned and passed the bank of cubicles, nodding to the staff members that she knew and continuing on her way. The lawyers' offices were along the around the perimeter of the floor, with the staff cubicles in the centre. The smaller offices were reserved for the associates, and the larger corner units with the much better views, for the partners. She had moved her way up to a space somewhere in between – her office wasn't as small as those given to the juniors, but not nearly a partner size – yet.

She reached one of the largest partner offices and walked through the open door, not bothering to knock.

"Hello, Lavinia," Matthew called out, his eyes on one of the two large computer screens mounted on the wall.

He was standing at the raised dais he used for his desk, the wireless keyboard at his fingertips. A bit of a fitness obsessive, Matthew had transitioned from a traditional seated desk to a standing one last year, believing it was better for his posture and blood flow if he stood more often at work. Lavinia thought it was nonsense, but it did make for a rather funny image whenever she came to his office.

"We were just served with a motion to remove the Receiver from the Allinson file," she announced, taking her usual seat on the leather sofa along one wall of Matthew's office. "Freshfields is acting for the family."

"Of course, they are," he sighed, shaking his head. "And who are they proposing to replace the Receiver? E&Y, obviously."

"One and the same," she confirmed.

"Give it to Niklas. Tell him I want an outline of the responding materials by tomorrow morning. You do the factum, use the one that we did for the Henson file. Have a student update the brief of authorities, though I highly doubt anything's changed in the relevant case law," he instructed. "How did they get a motion date without clearing it with us, first?"

"They're going into a scheduling appointment for Monday morning on an urgent basis," she replied.

"Urgent basis? What's so urgent? All the assets have been secured," he frowned turning around and looking at the redhead associate.

"They're probably going to say that the Receiver's activities are devaluing the family's interest in the business," she suggested.

"The insolvency of the company is devaluing the family's interest, and they're the ones who put them close to bankruptcy," he complained. "All right, book us for the hearing on Monday. Bring my usual brief for the test for urgency. Tell Niklas to assume they'll get an urgent date, so I want the materials done by Tuesday. Same thing for your factum."

"That's pretty tight," she noted.

"Urgent matters usually are," he replied, turning back to his screens. "I thought you were cutting back on your entertainment budget this year? That should mean your weekend is available to work, if you don't finish by tomorrow."

"You're not even a little bit sorry that I'm losing my weekend, are you?" she stated.

"It's Thursday morning and I'm giving you until Tuesday, and I'm also letting you update a precedent factum, rather than draft it from scratch. If you're not finished by Saturday noon at the latest, I'll be shocked," he replied.

"It's the third Thursday of the month, you forget. It's Associates' Night. We're going to Hakkasan," she mentioned.

"Well, that gives you and Niklas the rest of the day to work on this file before you go out drinking tonight. At worst, it'll set you back until Saturday afternoon, rather than lunchtime," he said easily.

She scoffed and shook her head, rising from the sofa. "Good day, Matthew."

"Good day," he answered cheerfully. "Oh, Lavinia?"

"Yes?" she answered, turning at the door to look back at him.

"Your goal, as far as career advancement here goes, should be to graduate from these Associates' Nights to something bigger, right?" he asked pointedly.

"Yes," she nodded. "It still is."

"Good," he said, going back to his work.

She took one last glance at him before leaving his office.

He kept typing away, his mind going over the new court date that had just been thrown at him when his phone rang. He glanced at the call display that popped up on his monitor and blinked in surprise. Putting his headset in his ear, he turned away from the computer and walked over to the large windows along one wall of his office, looking out on downtown London when he answered the call.

"Hello, darling. You all right?" he asked.

"I am, but Catherine is not, I'm afraid," Mary replied.

He sighed at the mention of one of Mary's close friends. "Pity. Let me guess. She broke up with her latest boyfriend?"

"What else?" she said. "She's actually quite distraught this time, strangely enough. Rhiannon and I are going to meet her for drinks after work and buck her up a bit. Will you be all right on your own tonight?"

"Sure. It looks like I'm going to have work to bring home, anyway. Can you at least call in to say goodnight to the children?" he asked. "George hates falling asleep without seeing you."

"I will," she confirmed. "I'll try and be home before midnight, but you know how these sessions with Catherine can get."

"Indeed. Maybe you ought to use her vulnerable state to actually talk some sense into her," he suggested ruefully.

"One can dream," she huffed. "All right, I've got to go. I'll call you around 6. Love you."

"Love you too," he answered, hanging up the call. He shook his head in annoyance as he removed his headset and looked out the window.

Catherine was always having a crisis, and it invariably involved men. While Mary and others in their circle had moved on from their clubbing and casual dating days and settled into serious relationships, Catherine still liked to flirt and party. She constantly argued that her dating policy let her have far more fun, and that commitment was akin to a death sentence. That attitude wasn't unique, particularly among their Millenial generation, however Catherine seemed to always need to have a girls' night whenever she ended a relationship. The usual drill involved going out for drinks and commiserating over her failed love life. He thought the entire thing was ridiculous, particularly given that there were fewer single friends now to commiserate with. Still, Mary had known her since high school and always answered her call, still seeing value in maintaining her friendship, for some reason that escaped Matthew.

He went back to his computer and picked up where he left off, forgetting about Catherine straight away.

Grantham House, St. James Square, London, England, February 20, 2020

"He rolled over and fell asleep again, and when he woke next day, he didn't remember the dream at all...Well, I think that's a good place to stop for tonight, my dear chap. Tomorrow, we'll get started on the next chapter, called…"

Matthew glanced over and smiled at his son, fast asleep in his crib. He got up from the chair and leaned over the rail, tucking the blue cashmere blanket over the boy's shoulders.

"I'll tell you tomorrow. Good night, George. Sweet dreams. I love you," Matthew smiled.

He set the book on the side table and left George's nursery, turning off the light before closing the door.

The fourth floor was wonderfully quiet as he walked down the hall. Victoria was already asleep for a good hour now, and it would be another seven before she woke up and needed the bottle. It was remarkable to him how different Victoria was from George at the same age. She was far less fussy and slept much better as well. Though they relied on Nanny, it was easier for him and Mary to get things done at night now with both children sleeping for a decent block of time.

He went downstairs and headed for the offices on the second floor. Mary had redone the house again when Victoria was born, moving the children into separate nurseries on the fourth floor and giving her and Matthew an extra large suite of rooms on the third. She also relocated their offices to the second, joining them together into a single workspace. Though he found it rather strange, he appreciated what she was trying to do. They both tended to isolate themselves when they were busy, and it made for a strain on their marriage when one of them had to manage the children while the other was bunkered in an office somewhere in the basement. Now, even when they were stressed, they were together, working from the same large room, and able to see and talk to each other easily. It was a small thing, but a reminder that despite knowing each other since they were children, their relationship needed constant effort to succeed.

He went over to his elevated desk and touched the remote to turn on the large display on the wall. Opening up his electronic documents, he activated the timer on his billing program and got to work.

Hakkasan Mayfair, Mayfair, London, England, February 20, 2020

"He said that I was pushing him for too much, too soon! Can you fucking believe it? Me? Push? I never push!" Catherine scoffed, taking another sip of her third Martini.

Rhiannon and Mary exchanged wry smiles and sipped their own drinks, amaretto and 7 for Rhiannon, vodka and tonic for Mary.

"These fucking men never know what they want," Catherine grumbled. "One day they want you to be the perfect hostess for their mates, the next they need a mum to take care of them, and they want to be left alone for a week after that, until it's time to be their slut in the bedroom. I'm glad to be rid of him! He was driving me mad!"

"Yes, it sounds like you're not affected by the breakup at all," Rhiannon noted.

"Not even a little bit," Mary smirked.

Catherine frowned at both of them before sighing and staring at her glass. "Honestly, what's wrong with me?"

Rhiannon and Mary blinked in surprise.

"I've spent all this time building up my career, and I'm successful, right?" Catherine whinged. "It shouldn't be so hard to find a man, now."

"I don't think it's that hard, no, but you have to be looking for the right one," Rhiannon offered carefully.

"Dating the latest junior hired at your office isn't necessarily a great idea," Mary agreed.

"Fine, I'll concede that," Catherine shrugged. "But I've tried the online thing. It hasn't been much better. The selection is greater, yes, but I find I'm wasting so much time messaging these people, trying to figure out if I have anything in common with them. Setting up just a meet-up for coffee is a huge ask, and in the end, I'm not dazzled at all."

"If you're looking for a man to dazzle you right from the off, you're definitely not being realistic," Rhiannon laughed.

Mary smiled.

"All right, so what do I do? You're both happily married, supposedly. How did you know you had found the one?" Catherine asked.

"For me, I stopped waiting for Prince Charming," Rhiannon replied. "I always thought Adrian was smart, funny, and successful. I never thought of him in a romantic way because he didn't fit my idea of what a boyfriend was supposed to look like. I'd never dated a black man before, and certainly never considered marrying one."

Catherine nodded. "But?"

"But he was persistent, without being pushy, and I'd always gotten along with him, so I decided why not, and gave him a chance," Rhiannon explained.

"And he impressed her, once she let herself be impressed," Mary noted.

Rhiannon laughed. "He became more and more attractive to me the more we saw each other. It was so much fun just being with him, and he made me feel so comfortable. Eventually I just allowed myself to really look at him without any preconceived notions, and I realized that he was fucking hot. Not only does he have a great body, which I never even thought about looking at before, but the fact we get along so well makes him even more gorgeous to me."

"And the rest is history, as they say," Mary smiled.

"Mmm hmm," Rhiannon smiled, flashing her wedding and engagement rings on her finger.

"I didn't know that. I thought you just settled for him because he was your friend and you got tired of the dating scene, the same way Mary settled for Matthew," Catherine frowned.

Mary rolled her eyes. "And she wonders why she's still single."

"So that's it? Go and find myself someone nice and boring and problem solved?" Catherine asked.

"Holy shit, do you even hear yourself right now?" Rhiannon asked, shaking her head in disbelief.

"You need to actually take the time to get to know a man before you can understand if you're compatible, or not," Mary explained patiently. "All you do is – step 1, is he hot? Step 2, what are his prospects? Step 3, is he any good in bed? You never bother finding out how you actually fit together beyond a superficial level."

"And when it all falls apart, you complain to us and go out and do the same thing all over again," Rhiannon added.

"And again, and again, and…" Mary emphasized.

Catherine huffed and finished her drink.

"You look at Matthew, for example, and you think he's boring, milquetoast, bland," Mary stated. "All you see is what's on the surface, and you assume the rest. You don't know anything else about him, and yet you think he's beneath you, and me."

"I don't think he's beneath me," Catherine objected. "He's really good looking, I'll give you that. He just doesn't seem very exciting."

"He doesn't have to be exciting. He's my husband, not my fitness trainer. Besides, he can be very exciting. That's the point. He can be many things, and whatever I need in a relationship, he can provide. We've known each other since we were little, but I only fell in love with him five years ago."

"When you found out he loved you," Catherine recalled.

Mary nodded. "Yes. When Sybil and Edith told me, I looked back over our friendship and realized all the things he'd done for me, all the moments he was there when I needed him, all the times I relied on him more than anyone else. I saw him for who he was – not just my best friend, but a gorgeous, brilliant, kind and caring man – and I asked myself what could he possibly be missing that I would want in a man?"

"And your answer was?" Rhiannon asked.

"Haven't come up with anything yet," Mary joked, sipping her drink.

"But I don't have any male friends," Catherine complained.

"We're not saying you should pick one of your friends," Rhiannon noted. "The point is that instant attraction doesn't happen anymore, and even when it does, you can't trust in only that. Yeah, there's tons of hot guys out there, and they may be great in bed, too, but that's not something you can build anything meaningful on. You need to go further than that."

"It sounds like a lot of work, compared to my method," Catherine concluded bitterly.

Mary and Rhiannon laughed and nodded. "It doesn't end, either," Mary advised. "Matthew and I work at our marriage constantly. We never want to take each other for granted."

"Find someone you actually want to put the effort in for," Rhiannon said. "And don't be hung up on how long it takes, or whatever. It takes time, regardless of how perfect he might be."

"I've given up on finding perfect, trust me," Catherine replied pointedly. "All right, I'll think about all of that. What time is it, anyway? Ten? Oh, shit, I've got to go."

"I'll go with you. We can split a cab," Rhiannon declared. "Mary?"

"Go on," Mary smiled. "I'll get the bill. We're headed in opposite directions, anyway."

"Thank you, darling. I mean it," Catherine said, hugging Mary and kissing her on the cheek.

"Anytime," Mary replied.

Mary kissed Rhiannon goodbye and watched her friends leave the busy restaurant. She took some time to finish her drink, enjoying the vibrant atmosphere. This was one of her favourite restaurants, a place she and Matthew ate at going back to before they started dating. They didn't come here much anymore, it not being conducive to families, but it was still a nice place to go out with her friends.

"Just you left, Lady Mary?" the waiter asked, coming over and smiling.

"Just me," Mary nodded. "I'll take the bill whenever."

"Actually, this was ordered for you," the waiter stated, taking a cocktail glass off his tray and setting it down before her.

Mary frowned at the deep orange-coloured liquid. She suddenly felt anxious, her pulse jumping.

"The gentleman over there already paid for your bill, and he had us make this for you. He also asked that you join him," the waiter stated, nodding his head to a table on the far side of the room.

"Thank you," Mary replied, not looking over. "I'll take it from here."

"Yes, Lady Mary. Have a good evening," the waiter nodded and left.

Mary stared at the cocktail glass, her instinct telling her to ignore it and leave. It had been years since she'd seen this particular obscure drink, back at a time when she used to have them specially made for her. She knew the ingredients by heart even now – equal parts dark rum, light rum, orange liqueur, the juice from half a lemon and a tablespoon of grenadine – all mixed with ice and poured into a chilled glass.

Her breath hitched at the memory of the drink, and the man who introduced it to her. Swallowing nervously, she reached out and touched the stem of the glass, a chill seeming to run from her fingers and along her arm. Lifting her head, she gave in and looked across the room, hoping against hope that this was all just a strange coincidence. Her chest tightened when she saw the familiar dark eyes, tinted skin and knowing smile looking back at her.

It was unmistakably him.

Her ex, Kemal Pamuk.

Grantham House, St. James Square, London, England, February 20, 2020

Matthew stopped typing and stretched his arms, groaning tiredly. He was going on two hours now of replying to emails, revising draft documents and reviewing files. He could probably go for another six just to get caught up on his workload. Being a lawyer was to be a juggler, even at the best of times, but ever since Victoria was born, he had scaled back his time at the office, wanting to make sure he was home at a decent hour each night to see his children, even if it meant paying for it later by working from home, as he was doing now.

He debated opening up another file when an incoming video call popped up on the monitor. Smiling in surprise, he touched the keyboard and answered the call.

"Calling me after ten? Did you want me to read you a story before you went to bed?" he joked.

"Read this," Alex replied, showing him the middle finger. "Have you got a minute?"

"Sure. I was doing some billable work for you, but I can spare a minute," Matthew smiled. "What's going on?"

"Well, it's about Anna," Alex muttered.

"Ah, Miss Smith. Yes, and?" Matthew asked.

"Well, I…erm…I think that I might…uh…ask her to marry me," Alex mumbled, looking down and away from the camera.

"What?" Matthew blurted out.

Alex glared at him. "I think I'm going to propose, all right? Clear enough for you?"

Matthew shook his head in shock. "Yes, uh, wow…I wasn't expecting that."

Alex huffed in annoyance. "Well? What do you think?"

"You've been together for how long now? Six months?" Matthew asked.

"Seven. Seven months, two weeks," Alex replied.

"Seven months, two weeks," Matthew repeated. "Well, that's faster than it took Mary and me, but then you always were more efficient."

Alex shrugged. "I don't know, I just…love her. I think about her all the time. We had dinner tonight and I dropped her off at hers, and I didn't want her to leave. I didn't want to leave. I don't like being apart from her, even if it's just for a day. I'm bloody obsessed with her."

"Wow," Matthew laughed. "That's love, all right. That's great, mate. Really. I don't think I've ever heard you talk about a woman like this before."

"I haven't," Alex shook his head. "I've never felt like this before, about anyone. She's the greatest thing that's ever happened to me."

"Hey, come on!" Matthew frowned, throwing his hands up.

"Present company excluded, of course," Alex grumbled, frowning at him. "What do you think? Is it too soon? Should I wait, maybe?"

"Maybe a few years ago I would have said it was too soon, but it's not like either of you are getting any younger," Matthew suggested.

"Thanks," Alex replied wryly.

"It's a valid consideration, is all I'm saying. Anna's an only child and so are you. Neither of you are old, but if you want to have a family, you kind of need to get moving," Matthew explained.

"I'm not marrying her because I want to have children," Alex complained. "I want to marry her because I want to be with her for the rest of my life."

"Then tell her that," Matthew chuckled. "It can't hurt. I'm sure she wouldn't mind hearing it."

"Has Mary said anything? Has she said anything about what Anna may have told her about me?" Alex asked.

"Even if she did, Mary wouldn't tell me. She's very good at keeping secrets," Matthew answered. "It's obvious that Anna loves you though, come on."

"Yeah, I know she does, but marriage is a big step, and her parents are divorced. Maybe she doesn't want to get married?" Alex wondered.

"She wants to get married. I can guarantee you that. Anna caught the bouquet at Sybil's wedding and her whole face lit up," Matthew assured him. "If I were you, I wouldn't wait. You two are great together."

"What about money?" Alex asked.

"What about it?" Matthew replied.

"Should I ask her to sign a pre-nup?" Alex raised.

"A pre-nup? Really?" Matthew questioned.

"I don't know!" Alex whinged. "I do have a lot more money than she does."

"Well, I'm not your lawyer, so this doesn't count as legal advice, but are you kidding me?" Matthew stared at him with wide eyes. "This is Anna we're talking about. She doesn't have a conniving bone in her body. She's not after you for your money."

"Argh, I know!" Alex grunted. "It's just the prudent thing to do, though."

"You're not going to find any agreement here. Robert never asked me to sign anything. He didn't even ask Tom," Matthew noted. "He paid us the settlements set aside for Mary and Sybil, no questions asked. I do think you should talk about important things like whether she wants to have children, where you would live, even whether you'll have a joint bank account or not, but a pre-nup, to me, is setting yourself up for failure."

Alex sighed.

"Look, stop thinking about all the different things that could go wrong. You love Anna. She loves you. You want to marry her. That's all that really matters. Plan out something with that brilliant mind of yours and sweep her off her feet," Matthew recommended. "I can't understand for the life of me why she would, but I bet she can't wait to be Mrs. Anna Lewis."

"She'll probably want it to be Anna Smith-Lewis, or she'd be Anna Lewis officially, but keep the Smith for professional use," Alex remarked.

"Well, it would save Mary the trouble of making up new business cards," Matthew commented.

"Oh good, that was my biggest concern, really," Alex deadpanned.

Matthew laughed. "Congratulations, mate. If you need any help, just let me know."

"Thanks. If she says no, you're fired," Alex smirked.

"I'll take my chances," Matthew smiled. "Let me know when you're going to do it and I'll have Mary give Anna the next day off."

"Right. Okay. Later," Alex nodded.

"Later," Matthew replied, signing off the call.

He turned off the display and chuckled as he left the office. If Mary got home before he went to sleep, he'd have quite the story for her.

Hakkasan Mayfair, Mayfair, London, England, February 20, 2020

He was somehow even more beautiful than she remembered. His hair was a respectable length now, and a lighter shade of brown, wavy on top and closely cropped on the sides, so much better than the rebellious buzz cut he had before. He still kept a noticeable amount of stubble, the sight of his beard forcing her to remember the rough feel of it against her thighs. But those eyes. Dark and imposing, shifting from a light hazel to a dark chocolate, depending on the light. He was wearing a black buttoned shirt, open at the neck, revealing more of his olive skin. It fit him well. She could easily make out his square shoulders, the muscles of his arms and chest, and the sleek taper of his abs. The sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, displaying his forearms.

His eyes raked over her as she approached, taking her in from head to toe, not even trying to disguise his leering. But then, he never disguised any of his intentions.

"Mary," he greeted her warmly, standing up and holding out his hand.

"Kemal," she nodded, sliding into the booth next to him.

His hand on the small of her back made her shudder. He leaned in to kiss her. She turned her head at the last moment. His lips on her cheek were warm and soft, just as before.

"It's good to see you," he whispered, his breath searing her cheek before he pulled back and sat down.

She placed her cocktail glass on the table and took a seat. Crossing her legs, she turned to face him, as if sitting next to him would leave her exposed otherwise.

His arm reached out along the top of the banquette, his hand sliding lazily past her shoulder. His long fingers rested idly on the leather, just within striking range, she thought. She kept her eyes on his, but could feel how close his hand was to her skin. How easy it would be for him to reach out and caress her back, bared by the top she was wearing, and take hold of her nape in his firm grip, just like he used to do.

She glanced at the drink to avert her eyes. Coming over here had been a mistake.

"Dreaming in Antalya," she stated, calling out the name of the cocktail he had ordered for her. "I haven't had one of these in a very long time."

"I had to instruct the bartender on how to make it," he chuckled, his smooth laugh seeming to vibrate in her chest. "I expected you would remember, though. It was your favourite."

She nodded cautiously, her eyes moving to the lowball glass in front of him filled with an amber liquid.

"Whisky," she proclaimed, nodding towards his glass.

He smiled and took hold of it. "Macallan 1946. Not bad."

She nodded. Though she seldom drank whiskey herself, she knew different vintages well enough from her Papa's private stocks. The one glass Kemal was drinking cost £850.00. He always had family money, but never flaunted it. Alcohol and drugs were some of the few things he did splurge on.

"To surprise reunions," he smiled, holding up his glass to her.

She pursed her lips and looked at him for a moment before raising her cocktail in reply. "Cheers."

The single sip brought back so many memories. He first showed her how to make it back at his place, just before he poured it over her naked breasts and licked it off. For the brief time she was with him, it was her drink of choice. They seldom found a bar or club that knew how to make it, but when they were alone together, he kept her well supplied.

"How have you been?" she asked, setting her glass back down. She wasn't entirely sure why she was even here talking to him, but she knew she needed to keep the conversation moving. Lingering silence between them was dangerous.

"Well, thank you," he nodded. "Business is very good."

"You're still importing machinery from home?" she asked.

He chuckled and shook his head. "A little. I've moved on to precious metals, gold in particular. You Brits rather love Turkish gold, it seems."

She nodded, her mind buzzing at this new information. Kemal was never terribly ambitious or driven, however these days, gold sold itself. It was a multi-billion pound market, with the UK importing vast amounts since the Brexit vote in 2016. If his family business had a piece of it, he was doing very well for himself, indeed.

"Congratulations, belatedly," he smiled, nodding towards her wedding band and diamond engagement ring on her left hand. "I saw the announcement in the Times. You and Matthew, yes?"

She nodded, a shiver going through her at the mention of her husband. "It'll be four years in May. We have two children – George and Victoria."

"How nice," he nodded. "And he's a lawyer, isn't he?"

"A partner, yes," she confirmed. "Here in London."

"And you've got your own design firm," he noted. "Just as you always planned."

She smiled and took another sip of her drink. "I should thank you for referring Jeremy to me. It's one of the biggest projects I've ever done. I wasn't aware that you grew up together."

He smiled. Jeremy Turan was a star footballer for Arsenal. He moved to London back in 2018 and hired Mary to redesign his mansion in Knightsbridge. Mary later learned that he heard about her from Kemal, a childhood friend of his from their days in Istanbul. Mary had no doubt that Kemal also shared intimate details of their relationship with his best friend, but she persevered. It still was one of her most lucrative projects, and had led to Jeremy referring numerous teammates and other celebrities to her firm.

"Jeremy is a brother to me," Kemal nodded. "He was very pleased with you, as I expected he would be. Do you know, I still haven't seen his house in all of its entirety? We usually meet there before heading somewhere else."

"That's unfortunate. I redesigned every floor. It's quite different from what it was," she stated.

"You can give me a tour. Jeremy is terrible at remembering all the details," he smirked.

She glanced over at her cocktail glass. There it was. A seemingly innocent invitation dangled before her like poisoned candy.

"I'm sure that you can manage on your own," she said firmly, looking pointedly at him. "Jeremy has all the before-and-after photos."

He chuckled and nodded, completely unfazed. Taking another sip of his expensive whiskey, he studied the glass for a moment before setting it back down and running his finger over the rim.

"You won't stay faithful to him, you know that," he declared, turning to look straight at her.

She blinked in surprise before recovering. "You don't know what you're talking about."

He bared his teeth in a knowing smile. "I know you, Mary. This life you've made for yourself – marrying Matthew, having his children, living in your family's ancestral London home – they're all safeguards, steps you've taken to keep you rooted, connected, trapped. You're forcing yourself to live this life of duty. You're denying yourself what you really want, but that won't last."

"You're being ridiculous," she stated. "I love my life. I love my husband."

He laughed. "I remember how wild you used to get, how loud, how uninhibited. You're a siren, Mary. A boring domestic life will never satisfy you, not fully."

She narrowed her eyes and steeled herself. This was why she had come over. This was the moment she had waited years for. "I am satisfied. Matthew makes me happy. Very happy."

"That's what you tell yourself," he shrugged. "You like your life, yes, but there's another side to you, the side that I saw, your true side, your dark side. That Mary doesn't want to be just a simple wife. That Mary likes pushing the limits, likes to be bad."

"Matthew knows all about every side of me," she retorted. "He loves me completely, and I love being bad for him. Being bad with Matthew feels oh so good."

He quirked his eyebrows. "Matthew? Bad? All right. Sure. But it's safe. Did you tell him about the handcuffs?"

"Yes," she nodded, rising to his challenge.

"Did you tell him how much you like blindfolds?" he continued.

A jolt stirred in her stomach. "Yes," she answered. "I told him all about you, and he wasn't scared, or put off at all."

He nodded, impressed. "Good for him."

A delightful sense of triumph filled her veins.

"Tell me, though, did you ever let him know about Lana?" he asked lightly.

She blinked despite herself.

He saw it and smiled predatorily.

Her stomach fell.

"Have you told your husband about how I used to have you and Lana at the same time?" he pressed.

She pulled back slightly.

"Have you told him about how you would put your mouth between her legs while I fucked you from behind?" he sneered, his face lit up in delight. "Does your precious Matthew know just how far you went to please me?"

"That's all in the past," she managed, her voice tight. "That's not who I am anymore."

"See, now that's where you're wrong," he growled. "You loved doing all of those things for me because they were completely against everything you'd ever been brought up to be. You love Matthew, yes, but you know that he'll never go as far as you want him to, or do the things that you could never ask him to, but that you desperately crave. That's why you'll look elsewhere, eventually."

"You're wrong," she shot back.

"You love the danger, the risk, the helplessness, the surrender of control. You need the temptation, the feeling of throwing everything away for one moment of absolute pleasure. Your husband may play some of your games and keep you interested for now, but it's not the same as the thrill of doing something so wrong, so very horrible as cheating," he stated, as casually as if they were discussing the weather.

"You're full of shit," she shook her head. "I was young back then, and foolish. I wanted your approval and would do anything for it. Not anymore. Matthew gives me everything I need. He doesn't use me the way you did."

He nodded in acknowledgment, pausing to consider her words. "You're right. I made a mistake before. I drove you away, and that's why you left."

She frowned, wondering what he was playing at.

"We've changed, Mary. But the connection we had, the way we are with each other, that hasn't changed. I can give you exactly what you want now – someone to push the limits with, someone who you don't have to be loyal to. You don't have to wonder anymore. I can fuck you the way you need to be fucked."

She barely contained her rage. "You're such a fucking bastard. Understand this – I will never cheat on Matthew. He was there for me, and helped me fix all that you broke. You wouldn't even begin to understand how good of a man he is, how much better he is than you could ever be."

"Maybe. Maybe you've left all that behind. But, just in case you haven't, you know where to find me. The concierge still has your name, and instructions to let you up anytime you want, day or night. I still have all those special toys you liked, too," he grinned.

"Goodbye, Kemal." She rose from the booth and walked away, not looking back as she strode briskly past the bar and out of the restaurant to flag a cab for home.

---

"All right! Time for another round! Who's in?"

The group of lawyers laughed and raised their hands as the bartender came over to take their orders.

"What about you, Lavinia? Up for another one?"

Lavinia looked up from her phone and smiled, shaking her head. "You know what? I really need to get home. I've got a factum to write for tomorrow and if I have another drink, I'll be absolutely useless."

The other lawyers booed and heckled her before turning back to the bartender.

Lavinia scrolled through the photos on her phone. The lighting in here was rather dark and unhelpful, but Mary's face, and that of her exotic-looking male companion, were still clearly recognizable in all of the snapshots she took.

Grantham House, St. James Square, London, England, February 21, 2020

Mary quietly removed her boots and trudged up the stairs. The house was dark and quiet, the light of her phone screen guiding the way. It was well past midnight and she expected Matthew to be asleep. She wanted to wake him and cuddle into the safety of his arms, but she hesitated at the thought this time, not wanting to bother him. Reaching their floor, she came into the bedroom and stopped at the sight of his sleeping form in bed.

"You're home," he called lazily, his eyes still closed.

She smiled. "Hello, darling. I'm sorry that I'm late."

"Mmm, that's fine. How's Catherine?" he asked, his voice heavy.

She cringed slightly. "You know, I think she may have seen the light this time. We'll see."

"Mmm, well hurry up and come to bed," he answered, turning on to his side and going back to sleep.

She pursed her lips and slowly turned away, heading to the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

Avoiding her reflection in the mirror, she scrubbed her face vigorously before stripping off her clothes. She ran the shower to near scalding before stepping in and drenching herself. Gathering her hair behind her, she took up the shower gel and lathered herself liberally, running her hands up and down her body.

A harsh breath escaped her lips when her fingers found her breast. Gritting her teeth, she shut her eyes tight, trying to stop the vivid images from coming.

She failed.

Her head fell back as she fondled her breast roughly, the steam of the shower surrounding her. A tight moan spilled from her lips, her other hand moving down between her legs despite her desperate attempts to stop herself.

And memory and instinct took over.

'Picture what I'm doing to you in your mind' Kemal rasped as the silk blindfold descended over her eyes and stole away her vision.

She gasped, recalling how much stronger and exciting his touch felt when she couldn't see what he was doing.

'It's perfect," Kemal declared, smiling at their reflection in the mirror as he tied the collar tight around her neck.

She cringed, her throat suddenly tight, as if she could remember how snug the supple leather fit. She moved her fingers faster, seeing herself in the mirror, naked but for his collar, smiling at his evil grin.

'Taste yourself,' Kemal ordered, shoving her head down to take in his glistening length.

She licked her lips involuntarily. He loved to force himself down her throat, and she let him every time.

'Bend over,' Kemal snarled, the cold bite of the handcuffs locking her wrists behind her back.

"No," she whimpered, shaking her head, trying to summon images of Matthew to replace the dark visions of Kemal. She pinched her breast with the fingers of one hand while those of the other pressed down on her spot with single-minded determination.

'Say my name, you dirty little slut. Say it! Scream it!'

"Kemal," she hissed through her gritted teeth just before she surrendered to shameful desire.

Law Offices of Harvell, Carter & Lewis LLP, Fleet Street, London, England, February 21, 2020

Lavinia walked into Matthew's office and strode over to the desk. He kept his eyes on his monitor, his fingers continued to type away. She placed a bound volume on his desk and went to go sit down on the sofa.

"What's that?" he asked.

"The factum for the removal motion," she replied easily.

"I told you that you had until Tuesday for that," he stated, not turning around.

"And I told you I didn't want to give up my weekend," she retorted.

"Speed is no substitute for quality, Lavinia," he preached. "In your haste, you may have missed something important."

"If you can find anything, I now have four days to fix it, but you won't," she shrugged.

He glanced at her over his shoulder, looked down at the factum, then returned to his keyboard. "What about Niklas? I approved his outline last night. Where's he at with the responding materials?"

"His second draft is done. I used the most recent set of page and paragraph numbers for my references in the factum. I can change them easily enough, if necessary. The brief of authorities is updated and ready, both the one for Monday, and the one for the motion," she advised.

"I suppose you expect me to be impressed," he suggested.

"Maybe, but you wouldn't admit it in front of me, anyway," she replied, getting up from the sofa. "But if you only make minimal corrections, I'll know you were impressed."

He conceded a smile to her.

"I'm taking the rest of the afternoon off to go shopping. Email me your revisions and I'll get to them tonight or over the weekend. That is, if there are any, of course," she teased.

He huffed and shook his head.

"Oh! I almost forgot. Some of the girls wanted me to ask you a question," she announced, walking over to him.

"No, the firm is not funding a spa day. You all have coverage for massages under your health plans. That's more than enough," he stated.

"That's not what they wanted to know. Good guess, though," she said, taking out her phone. "No, a few of them wanted to find out if Mary's friend that she met up with last night is single or not."

"What?" he asked, turning around and looking at her phone. There on the screen was a photo of Mary sitting at a booth with another man, his lips on her cheek, his hand on the small of her back. Matthew recognized him immediately.

Kemal Pamuk.

"He's so fit! Where's he from? Looks Greek, or maybe Turkish?" Lavinia gushed, scrolling through several more photos showing Mary and Kemal sitting close together and having what looked to be a pleasant conversation. "He's not gay, is he? All the cute ones are."

"No. No, he's not gay, not to my knowledge," he replied, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the screen.

"That's good! Here, I'll send you these so you can show them to Mary. Maybe she can pass on his number?" she said cheerfully.

"I doubt she has it," he said tightly, turning back to his computer.

"Aww, what a shame," she complained. "Well, maybe we'll go back to Hakkasan for our next Associates' Night. Who knows? He might turn up. The chances are slim, of course, but you never know who you can run into, do you?"

"It can be a small world, yes," he replied, glaring at the monitor.

"Well, it was worth a try. Have a good weekend. I'll talk to you later," she called before leaving his office, a smug smile on her lips.

He kept typing for several more moments before stopping and reaching for his phone. Lavinia's photos of Mary and Kemal popped up on his screen. He scrolled through them slowly, his blue eyes darkening as he went.

Grantham House, St. James Square, London, England, February 21, 2020

Mary parked the Range Rover in the garage next to Matthew's Nissan GT-R sports car. She got out and headed out the door, crossing the backyard and going into the house. It was always comical to her that they lived in one of the most expensive neighbourhoods in London, and yet they only had a two-car garage. They both owned second cars that they kept in storage, swapping them out when the weather turned warmer. It was a decidedly one-percent, first-world problem. Sybil and Tom shared one car and didn't even have a garage, and Edith didn't drive at all. Still, it amused her that their home had eight bedrooms and six bathrooms, but room for no more than two cars.

Walking through the kitchen, she noticed that nothing was on the stove, and that the table and island were empty. Normally, dinner was ready by the time she came home. During the week, she often missed when the children ate, even. She frowned when she didn't hear their little footsteps galloping on the hardwood. George, especially, always sought her out when she got home.

Leaving her Hermès Birkin bag on the island, she walked down the hall in search of her family.

"Hello?" she called.

"Up here," Matthew answered. "I'm in the office."

She looked up the stairs in confusion before heading up.

"Where is everyone?" she asked, coming into the office. Her husband was sitting on the sectional along one wall. "I haven't seen my usual welcoming committee."

"The children are at Edith's," he replied, looking over at her.

She blinked as she crossed the room to his side. "What? Why?"

"She agreed to take them until tomorrow afternoon. Bertie's away up North for the weekend. I sent Nanny over to help her," he answered.

"Oh. Well, that was kind of her, although I'm sure she'll bring it up the next time she needs a favour," she stated wryly, sitting down next to him. "So, we have the house to ourselves?"

"We do," he nodded. "I thought we could use an evening alone."

She smiled, her arousal warming at the prospect of 16 childfree hours with her husband. "We most definitely could. Do you have anything planned for us?"

"Yes. I thought we could talk," he replied, looking over at her with a serious expression.

"Talk? Well, that wasn't the first thing that came to my mind, but I'm happy to begin the evening with a little chat," she teased. "What about dinner? Shall we go out?"

"I'm not that hungry yet. We can decide later," he answered.

"I'm not hungry either, actually," she shrugged before reaching out and touching his thigh. "At least, not for food, anyway."

He covered her hand with his, stopping her from reaching higher. "About that talk…"

She smirked and kept her hand under his. "Yes? What shall be the first topic of conversation?"

"I have a question for you," he told her, watching her closely.

"Well, you're in luck, because I am in the mood to be very agreeable," she drawled, smiling and arching her eyebrow at him playfully. "What's your question?"

"It's a two-part question, actually," he nodded.

"Sounds complicated. All right," she laughed.

"What were you doing with Kemal Pamuk last night, and why didn't you tell me that you were with him?" he demanded, his voice cold, his eyes hard.

Her mouth fell open. "What?"

"Did you not hear me?" he asked, getting up from the sofa. "Well, maybe this will make it easier for you."

He took out his phone and pressed his finger to the screen. The large television on the wall lit up with a photo of her and Kemal from the restaurant. He was kissing her cheek.

"What the hell is going on?" Matthew snapped, his tall frame looming over her.

She swallowed. "Where did you get that?"

"Some associates from the firm saw you," he replied bitterly. "They wanted to know who the exotic-looking handsome devil was that you were having drinks with, and whether he was single, or not. I told them I would ask you, since I'm not current on Kemal's relationship status."

She gasped and covered her mouth.

"The funny thing is I thought that you were meeting up with Catherine and Rhiannon last night. That is what you told me. Catherine had a crisis, you said," he noted, his voice dripping with anger.

"She did! We…we did meet up," she babbled. "I was with them for most of the night and finally, Catherine said she had to go, and Rhiannon shared a cab with her! I just stayed behind because I was going to pay the bill and grab a cab to come back here."

"And what? Kemal's a taxi driver now, is he?" he asked sarcastically.

She closed her eyes for a second and shook her head. "No. I didn't know he was even there. He saw me and had a drink sent over, and he invited me to join him."

"How generous!" he smiled mockingly. "And you went over to have a chat about old times, did you?"

She cringed, a knot of panic building in her stomach. "I did go over to him, yes, but it wasn't to catch up, or anything like that."

"Then what was it for?" he snarled. "What possible reason could you have to accept the man's drink, or his invitation? It's been over seven years since you last saw him, hasn't it?"

"Yes!" she answered immediately. "It was a total shock to run into him like that."

"On that, we agree!" he nodded, his eyes fiery. "So? I'm still waiting for an explanation."

She sighed. "Whatever I tell you, it's going to sound horrible."

"Well you may as well tell me something, because my imagination is conjuring some rather horrible things at the moment," he declared.

She met his eyes, searching desperately for anything besides anger. "I wanted to show him that I've moved on. I wanted him to know how much better off I am without him. I wanted him to see me, see my rings, see how happy I am, and know what he lost. I went over to sit with him so he could understand that I was the one that got away."

He grunted and shook his head, his lips curled in a pout, his eyes still blazing. "You went over there to gloat? A man who supposedly means absolutely nothing to you. You went out of your way to taunt him? And did it work? Was he having any of it?"

She swallowed and looked down at the hardwood floor. "No. He didn't believe me."

"Obviously he wouldn't!" he shouted, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "Self-centered, egomaniacal, deviant little fuckboys are not in the habit of conceding that they were ever wrong about anything. Not to mention, by going over there, you played right into his hands! You showed him that he still affects you! He called you over, and you came running like a besotted little schoolgirl!"

"That's not what happened!" she scoffed, her own anger beginning to build under Matthew's self-righteous patronising. "I went over, I said my piece, and I left. It doesn't matter to me what he thinks."

"If it doesn't matter, then why didn't you tell me that you saw him, that you talked to him?" he asked brusquely. "You made no mention of it when you got home, no mention of it this morning, and I dare say you never would have brought it up at all if I hadn't found out."

"I didn't mention it because it wasn't important," she waved her hand dismissively. "Nothing happened. There was no point bothering you about it."

"No point?" he repeated. "You go and have a drink with your ex-boyfriend, the man that I detested from the very moment he entered your life, the man that you admitted made you take drugs and made you a sexual submissive, and you don't think it's worth mentioning?"

She frowned and looked away from his furious stare.

"Well, that just says it all, doesn't it?" he spat, turning away from her.

"Nothing happened!" she repeated, rising to her feet and chasing after him. "We just talked, that was it! It was stupid, and juvenile, fine! But it didn't mean anything! You don't need to be upset, or feel jealous…"

"I am not jealous!" he exclaimed, whirling on her. "I don't give a damn about Kemal Pamuk or what he thinks!"

"Exactly! So there's no need to be so angry about it," she replied. "We just talked."

"And what did you talk about?" he asked.

She blinked.

"What did you talk about?" he pressed. "You told him how happy you were, how much better off you were without him, and he didn't believe you. That's it?"

She looked down at the floor. "No. He mentioned Jeremy Turan and I thanked him for referring him to me. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I was sort of figuring out what I wanted to say at the time."

He frowned and looked at her as if she was speaking another language. "You thanked him for the business referral…"

"Well, it was a big job. I made a killing on it," she explained.

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. Besides thanking him for his business referral, what else did you talk about? When you told him you were happy with me, he obviously disagreed. What did he say?"

She closed her eyes and sighed in frustration.

"What did he say?" he repeated slowly.

She opened her eyes and looked at him pleadingly. "I told him that I admitted to you what he and I had done before, and that you were okay with it, and that you were quite good yourself."

His eyes almost shot out of his head. "You told Kemal Pamuk about our sex life? Oh, right, that's nothing at all, just idle chat."

"I told him generally," she defended herself. "I just wanted him to know that I had it all with you, because I do! Our life together, our family, our house, yes, our sex, it's all amazing!"

"And what did he say to that?" he asked. "What was his response when you told him about how great our sex is?"

"Does it matter? You just said yourself that you don't care what he thinks!" she reminded him.

He looked at her suspiciously. "He propositioned you, didn't he? He offered to remind you of the one that got away. He said you could go back to him and get what you've been missing, get what he used to give you, didn't he? Didn't he?"

She nodded. "Yes, he did."

He put his hands on the top of his head and groaned in disgust. "That bastard."

"Yes, he is," she agreed, coming over and putting her hands on his chest. "He's absolutely vile, and that's why I'm so grateful that I ended up with you."

"And yet you didn't see fit to tell me about any of this," he noted, stepping away from her.

She rolled her eyes. "Darling, honestly, can we just drop it? It's not worth getting so worked up over, really."

"How would you react if you found out that I met up with an ex and had drinks?" he asked. "How worked up would you be?"

"Well, to be fair, you don't have very many exes at all, and none that you would actually talk to, anyway," she replied.

He glared at her ruefully.

"What? It's the truth, isn't it?" she added.

"The reason that my past isn't littered with contentious relationships is because I decided some time ago that anyone else would pale in comparison to you!" he protested.

"And a lot of good that did!" she countered. "It took you years to even admit to me how you felt, and I had to practically drag it out of you!"

"That's neither here, nor there!" he snorted. "I don't see how you can expect me to just let this go as if it meant nothing when you deliberately kept it from me."

"This is the exact reason why I didn't tell you! I knew you would become paranoid and unreasonable, rather than understand that it was just stupid and harmless. It isn't as if I asked for him to be there! I'm not responsible for the fact that he offered me a drink, invited me over, or wanted to have an affair! You can't blame me just because men pay me attention," she shot back.

"If you can't see how you bear responsibility in this situation, or why I am so enraged about it, then there's nothing more to say." He turned and headed for the door.

"Oh God, really?" she complained. "And how long am I to bear the silent treatment? If it's an apology you want, then I apologize! Can't we just have a nice dinner and enjoy the evening?"

"No," he replied from the doorway. "Don't apologize just to placate me. Don't act like you're contrite just so you can move past this quickly and easily. Do what you want. It's what you're best at, ultimately."

She covered her face with her hand, exhaling in consternation as he stormed off.

Home of Sybil Crawley and Tom Branson, Highgate, London, England, February 21, 2020

"Why don't you just say you're sorry?" Sybil asked, looking at her older sister's perplexed face on her tablet.

"I did. He didn't accept my apology," Mary whinged, rolling her eyes. "To be fair, it wasn't the most genuine of apologies, but if I say I'm sorry now, or in a few hours, or tomorrow, what difference does it make? He's not going to stay mad at me for very long, we know that, so why not just cut to the chase and get over it?"

Edith scoffed and shook her head. "Yes, I can't imagine why he didn't drop the whole thing in the face of that logic."

Sybil laughed and smoothed her hand over her bulging belly.

"Shut up, Edith," Mary frowned at her younger sister's image in the third chat window. "Look, I get why he's angry, I do. I admit it was stupid to go and have a drink with Kemal, and also stupid to not tell Matthew about it, but it isn't as if he would have thanked me for being up front with him. He would have been just as irate, and that's why I didn't tell him."

"Is that the only reason why you didn't tell him?" Sybil questioned.

"Of course! What else would there be?" Mary asked.

"I don't know. Maybe you were afraid of telling him because having drinks with your ex wasn't as meaningless as you let on," Sybil suggested. "Maybe you felt something."

Mary frowned and shook her head. "No! That's not what happened! I left him, remember? He's nothing to me, and certainly not a threat to Matthew. How can you even think that, Sybil, honestly!"

"We're not saying you prefer Kemal to Matthew," Edith explained. "It's just that your relationship with Kemal was very complicated, and it took you a long time to get over him. That type of effect is very difficult to forget or minimize. The day that I kicked Michael out, he kept apologizing and apologizing, promising he wouldn't cheat again, that he'd do better by me. I almost fell for it. I wanted to believe him. He texted me for weeks afterwards and I came this close to having break-up sex with him. An ex is always going to affect you. Even if you don't have actual feelings for him anymore, the memories can be quite powerful."

Mary frowned, trying hard to not think about last night in the shower.

"Yes, possibly, but we're talking about years here since I was last with Kemal, and your relationship with Michael was far more substantial than mine," Mary distinguished. "In that time, I've had other relationships, gotten married and given Matthew two children. Isn't that more than enough for him? Surely he has to trust that I won't betray him?"

Sybil sighed. "Edith?"

"You go," Edith replied.

"Darling," Sybil began, looking at Mary. "You must understand that you've been Matthew's whole world for over fifteen years now. He's loved you for nearly half his life. He's had to watch you date men that he either didn't like, or didn't think were good enough for you…"

"Both, in Kemal's case," Edith chimed in.

"So yes, you're happily married, and yes, you have two gorgeous children together, but there's always going to be a part of Matthew that remembers what it was like before, what it was like when you weren't together, when you passed him over again and again. He does love you, and he does trust you, but those feelings of inadequacy don't just go away," Sybil finished.

"Inadequacy?" Mary repeated, dumbfounded. "But that's ridiculous! He's not inadequate, certainly not compared to Kemal. Why would he even think that?"

"Because you already chose Kemal over him once before," Edith answered.

"But that's not fair! I didn't know he had feelings for me back then. He was my best friend. There was no romance between us. I didn't choose anyone over him. I didn't think of him in that way," Mary objected.

"Exactly," Edith nodded. "You never even gave him a chance."

"But how could I be expected to give him a chance when he never told me he had feelings for me?" Mary questioned.

"He chose you even when he had no reason to think you returned his affection," Sybil remarked. "He practically stopped dating altogether, even with no prospect that you would come around on him. It's a high standard to meet, I admit, but that's what Matthew did."

"All right, fine," Mary allowed. "I can't change how I treated him before, but we're married now. How do I fix this? I've told him that Kemal means nothing to me. I explained what happened and why I didn't tell him, as flimsy an excuse as it may be. What do I do now? Just wait for him to calm down?"

"He's your husband. We can't help you there," Edith shrugged.

"Maybe try and deal with his attitude towards Kemal?" Sybil offered. "Why does he hate him so much? He has more money, but it's not as if Matthew's poor, and you didn't date Kemal for his money anyway. What does Kemal have that Matthew is so angry over? It's obviously not you. Figure that out, and show Matthew that he shouldn't worry about it, and that might work."

Mary frowned in thought.

"Although, knowing Matthew, he's going to stay angry until at least the morning," Edith commented.

"Maybe not," Mary replied. "I've got to go. Edith, thank you for taking the children tonight."

"Oh, it was easy," Edith smiled. "We had dinner, read for a bit and Nanny put them straight to bed. I love how Victoria seems to know me a little bit. She let me hold her and everything."

"Anytime you want to take them so they'll get even more used to you, you're more than welcome. Sybil, don't go and have your baby this weekend, please. I'm going to be rather busy," Mary joked.

"Don't worry. I may look and feel as big as a barn, but I don't think he's coming for another couple of weeks, at least. Tom says all babies on his side were a few days late. Typical Irish, lazy the whole lot of them," Sybil sighed.

The sisters all laughed and said goodbye before hanging up.

"You finished, hon?" Tom asked, poking his head through the open doorway a few minutes later. "Can I get you anything?"

"Mmm, I'd love a grilled cheese butty," Sybil replied wistfully.

"Coming right up. Cheddar, no crusts, tomato and bacon," he stated.

"Love you," she smiled as she settled back against the pillows.

He smiled and left for the kitchen to make his very pregnant wife a sandwich.

Grantham House, St. James Square, London, England, February 21, 2020

Matthew stared vacantly at the floral arrangement on the glass coffee table, his face twisted into a scowl. After arguing with Mary, he went to the upstairs gym and rode his bicycle trainer for an hour. The trainer was connected online to a server that linked cyclists all around the world in a virtual reality game. He was so incensed that he destroyed several dozen competitors in a ride up Mount Ventoux in France. Thankfully he hadn't bothered to wear his headset, otherwise he'd most likely have cursed out a pack of teenagers for no reason.

After working up a sweat, he showered and changed and went back downstairs. There was no sign of Mary in the office, though he didn't really want to see her, or speak to her at the moment. She wasn't in the kitchen, either, and he stewed while drinking a chocolate-flavoured recovery milkshake. He didn't feel like eating without her, so he had a banana and came into the living room to wallow.

He was still furious over the entire incident with Kemal Pamuk and the fact that Mary hadn't told him about it. He felt entirely justified in his anger, but deep down, he knew it wouldn't last. Eventually he would accept his wife's apology, as hollow as it may be, and life would return to normal. The fact that he knew how everything would play out made him even more angry. Just one time, he wanted to be the unreasonable one. Just one time, he wanted to be the one who got to fly off the handle and stay mad at her. He hadn't done anything wrong, and yet in the end, she would be the one to get her way, as always.

He sighed, his expression calming a small bit. If anyone was used to Mary's selfish streak, it was him. That's what all of this came down to. She wanted to prove a point to Kemal, to have the proverbial last word, to show him that she had won whatever competition she had invented in her mind to justify her behaviour. The mature thing to do would have been to ignore him and leave the restaurant without acknowledging him. Matthew could even appreciate if she had walked over and thrown the drink in his face before she left. Engaging him, though, taking his bait – that was the spoiled Mary – the mean girl of her youth, who cared more about proving her superiority over others, about showing she was right, above all else, even when it didn't truly matter.

He grunted petulantly. His wife was who she was. Honestly, he had no desire to change her at all. However, that meant he had to put up with episodes like this one, and knowing her nature didn't make it any easier to bear.

He looked up when he heard high heels clicking on the marble tile in the hallway. Seconds later, Mary appeared in the doorway. She was wearing a red dress with long sleeves, a black collar that dropped down to her cleavage, and a short skirt that revealed her long legs framed by sheer black stockings.

"I'm going out. Don't wait up," she declared.

He blinked in surprise, repeating her words in his mind before he got up off the couch and went out into the foyer.

"What? Where are you going?" he asked.

"If you must know, I'm going out for drinks. Since you've made it clear you don't want my company tonight, I've found someone who does," she stated crisply.

"Who?" he asked suspiciously.

She smiled at him and arched her eyebrow. "Kemal."

He thought he might burst a blood vessel. "What?!"

"You don't want me. Kemal does. We're going to have some drinks, maybe grab a bite, and see where the night takes us," she nodded. "Who knows? Maybe we'll go back to his place and do some catching up. I could be a while."

He stepped towards her, his heart hammering in his chest. "You're going out with him, after everything we just said not two hours ago?"

"Why not? I have no interest in staying here and being ignored, or getting into another pointless row. The children are at Edith's, I don't have any work to do tonight, and I'm up for going out. He's willing to take me. It's quite straightforward, really. Why wouldn't I go out with him?"

"You're married," he snarled. "You said yourself that he means nothing to you."

"Oh, he doesn't mean anything to me. I don't care about him at all," she nodded. "But tonight, I have a use for him. You could say it's a win-win situation for both of us, him and me."

She turned and headed for the door.

His hands curled into fists as he watched her walk away and reach for the door handle.

"Mary, no," he called, his voice tight. "I forbid you to go to him."

She turned around and leaned back against the front door, a wicked smirk crossing her lips, her eyebrow arching in question. "You forbid me? And what does that mean? You can't stop me. If I want to go have a night of fun with my ex, what are you going to do about it?"

He frowned as he watched her lift her left hand to her neck, her rings sparkling in the light from the chandelier above.

"Who are you to get in the way of my fun?" she continued, her fingers travelling down her neck and along the open collar. She caressed the curve of her breast, her eyes locked on his. "You're not going to do anything, isn't that right? It's not as if you are prepared to teach me a lesson, is it?"

He blinked, looking at her warily as he stepped closer, glancing from her dark eyes down to the smirk on her lips, her teasing fingers on her pale skin and back up again.

"You're not leaving," he warned, closing the distance between them. "You're staying right here, at home, with me."

She raised her chin, her eyes glancing down at his lips. "Or what? I ran into Kemal last night. Next week, it could be Tony, or Evelyn, or Charles. Maybe even someone new. You can whinge and complain all you want, but it could still happen. There's nothing you can do to prevent it. As for what I might do in that situation, well, you know how much I enjoy attention."

He leaned in, her perfume and the warmth of her body filling his senses. He placed his hands on the door behind her, keeping her trapped between his arms. "You're mine," he growled. "The only man who's taking you anywhere is me."

Her ragged breath and parted lips betrayed her. "You think that you can put me in my place, do you?" she whispered.

He leaned in closer, freezing her between the hard door and his firm body. His hand moved and caressed her cheek before slipping around to take hold of the back of her neck and tilting her head up towards him.

"After I'm done with you, you'll be too weak to go anywhere," he promised, his eyes boring into hers.

She gasped just before he seized her mouth, his lips opening hers insistently before his tongue jabbed inside. She arched her back, her chest pressed delightfully against his. Her hands moved to tangle in his hair but he was too quick for her, taking hold of her wrists and pinning them to the door on either side of her head. She moaned in approval, her arousal spiking as he released her mouth and closed his lips around the sensitive spot on the side of her neck.

"God, Matthew!" she hissed, breathing harshly as he moved down to kiss the exposed skin of her chest. "Oh yes!"

"Mine," he rasped. "Say it."

"Yours! Oh God, I'm all yours!" she keened, her eyes wide. "Fucking take me! Fuck me and show me I belong to you and no one else!"

She shouted as he tore open her dress, ripping the fabric down the centre. Her pulse raced as he threw the ruined garment down her arms and to the floor. His blue eyes devoured her body and glared at her harshly when he realized all she was wearing underneath were her stockings.

"You dirty girl," he growled, kissing her again. "You did this on purpose. You planned all of this just to play with me."

She whimpered as he shoved two fingers into her core, his dark laugh making her tremble when he discovered how aroused she was. "What are you going to do about it?" she gasped between loud moans. "Are you going to punish me for being so bad?"

"More than you know," he threatened, moving his fingers faster. "Eyes on me. Don't you dare close them."

She groaned, nodding her head and holding his stare. Her hips moved against his hand, helping him push in deeper, helping him drive her closer and closer to the first of what she knew would be many moments of madness at his hands.

"Now," he growled. "Look down."

She lowered her eyes and her breath caught when she saw his hand between her legs.

He curled his fingers inside of her and pressed down on her spot with his thumb.

"Matthew!" she shouted, inadvertently banging her head back against the door as her entire body tensed. His fingers gave her exactly the right amount of friction and she went tumbling over in a mess of curses and pants, shocked at how fast he had gotten her there, thrilled at his response. He pulled out of her and she followed his fingers as they moved up her body to her mouth, her vision filled with his dark stare.

"Mmm," she sighed, opening her lips and taking him in. His steely gaze and the taste in her mouth made her shake, her entire body alive with anticipation.

He swept her up in his arms and carried her quickly to the living room, his lips and tongue swiping across any part of her he could reach. He set her down on the carpet and forced her to her knees, his hands quickly undoing his jeans and dropping them to the floor, along with his shorts.

"Matthew!" she cried out as he wound her hair around his fist and thrust into her mouth. Her eyes went wide, glancing over at the open curtains of the large front window, and the quiet street just beyond.

"Matthew! The window!" she warned as he pulled her off of him for a moment. "People will see us!"

He chuckled devilishly and made her take him deeper. "Aren't you the one who loves attention, darling? Go on and give everyone a show."

She almost spent again from his very words and the scandalous position he had her in. A moan flew from her mouth as she pleasured him eagerly, her hands linking behind her back as she raised her head to take him into her throat.

"That's it, that's my naughty wife," he snarled. "Fucking take it."

She gasped, choked, drooled and moaned around him, the pull on her hair and his harsh grunts sending heat through her body. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, her vision slightly blurred from her rigorous motions. He towered over her, now somehow as naked as she was. She lost herself in his blue eyes, the same eyes that showed her so much love when they took their wedding vows, so much adoration when she told him she was pregnant, the very eyes that spilled tears of pure gratitude when she presented his children to him.

The eyes of her best friend.

The eyes of her lover.

The eyes of her husband.

"Mary, I'm close," he gasped, his ragged breaths reaching her ears. Even though he was breaking their domination fantasy for just a second, his warning made her heart swell. This was her Matthew. This was the man she married. Even in the throes of lustful passion, he cared for her, put her first. Perhaps by his own design, it made her want to behave even more depraved for him.

She moaned in consent, her eyes never leaving his, her lips sealed around him.

His smile turned monstrous just before he roared his triumph and let go.

She shook with a second release as she felt him pulse, a dirty thrill coursing through her at how she could undo him with just her mouth and heated stare. He finally let go of her hair, breathing deeply to calm himself. She cleaned him thoroughly and sat back on her haunches, arching her eyebrow at him and licking her lips.

"Well, that was…" she began.

He reached down and pulled her to her feet, her eyes widening in surprise just before he pushed her down on to the sofa and kneeled between her legs.

"That was just the beginning. I told you that you would be too weak to walk by the time I was done with you, Lady Mary," he said sharply, spreading her legs wide. "Did you not believe me?"

She swallowed and gasped, a shiver of fear creeping up her spine, only heightening her arousal. Surely he was just boasting at this point? He would need to rest soon, and recover from what they'd just done, wouldn't he?

"Oh fuck!" she groaned when he leaned down and stabbed his tongue inside of her. No, it did not seem like rest was on his mind at all.

Looking back later, she would barely be able to piece together the exact sequence of events. His mouth and fingers sent her flying in a matter of minutes, and she kept looking out the window, wondering if a neighbour would happen by and see her naked. She was helpless to stop it, and this only excited her all the more. Since their bedroom was on another floor from that of Nanny and the children, she never had to worry about being too loud during lovemaking, but he made her scream so loud on her third release that she was glad the house was empty. She was almost scared that the neighbours could hear her outside.

When he recovered enough to finally take her, it was with ruthless control. He sat down on the large armchair and pulled her on top of him, her back to him, facing the wide open window. He lifted her legs in his strong grip, stealing all leverage away from her, bouncing her on him in total command of her body.

"Play with yourself while I fuck you," he sneered. She did immediately, moaning louder from the extra stimulation of her own fingers and the risk of anyone outside being able to see all of her.

"Who fucks you best?" he demanded, licking her neck. "Tell me, Mary. Who fucks you best?"

"You do!" she yelled, too far gone to be ashamed or embarrassed of their filthy talk. "You fuck me so good, Matthew! No one has ever fucked me like this! Oh my God!"

They would both blush for days later at the memory of her yelling out that he was the best she ever had, but neither regretted any of it. It felt too good. He loved hearing her. She loved answering him.

He carried her up to their bedroom after her fourth time, her legs as useless as he predicted. Yet, she wasn't tired, which was a fortunate thing as he had no intentions of sleeping. He put her on her hands and knees in their bed and took her from behind. She threw pillows aside and pulled part of the bedsheet off the mattress in her delirium, finally grabbing hold of the headboard as his every deep thrust and hard spank of her ass made her scream herself hoarse. He leaned over her, snarling in her ear, telling her lurid words that she knew he'd never spoken to anyone else.

"I love fucking you like this. Seeing your ass in the air. Hearing you beg. I fucking love it."

"You're mine. My wife."

"Do it, Mary. Do it for me."

She collapsed to the bed when her last climax washed over her, taking him over and over as he finished his strokes. He growled and pulled out of her suddenly, turning her over on to her back and sitting up, his hand taking hold of him. She arched her back and cupped her breasts, licking her lips and meeting his eyes, no hesitation at all in her mind.

"Give it to me, Matthew. Give it to me, please," she begged. "I want you all over me."

He shouted her name and unleashed.

She closed her eyes and shook from the feel of him on her skin, his name whispered on her lips over and over as she smiled in bliss.

---

It could have been minutes or hours later when she woke up, once again in her husband's arms as he carried her from the bed into the bathroom. She turned her head, smiling as she saw the tub filled with bubbles and smelled the relaxing scent of lavender from the lit candles all around the room. She hummed pleasantly and nuzzled against his neck, laughing freely when he eased them into the hot water. He took a sponge and cleaned her, massaging her skin and rinsing away the remains of their passion. Setting the sponge aside, he pulled her to him, kissing the top of her head and leaning back against the tub.

"So does this mean you've forgiven me?" she dared, snuggling against him as the bubbles drifted up to her shoulders.

"No. You don't need my forgiveness," he replied, his voice smooth and deep, the tone he took on when he was wonderfully sated. "If anything, I should be apologizing to you. I just couldn't stop myself. Everything we did just made me want more, and I…"

"Matthew," she scolded him lightly. "Don't do this. Don't feel bad about any of it. I've told you so many times. I love it when you take control of me. I love it when you're rough, and passionate, and primal, when you make me do what you want. It turns me on so much."

She ran her wet hand across his cheek and kissed him softly, laughing at the trail of bubbles she left on his face.

"I know, but I think I may love it too much," he chuckled. "When we were in the living room, I wanted to throw you against the window so all of Belgravia could see what we were doing."

She gasped and slapped his chest lightly, splashing water up on to both of them. "Matthew Crawley! You're an exhibitionist!"

He scoffed at that, but couldn't help but grin widely.

"Well, I think displaying me at home might be a bit too much. We have to face these people on a regular basis, not to mention many of them know my parents," she noted. "However, maybe on our next vacation, we could find a hotel suite that comes with a terrace, or a beach house with a large bay window facing the sea."

His eyes widened as he stared at her teasing smile. "Now you're just saying things that you know will live in my memory."

"You never can predict the future, darling. Give me enough to drink and assert yourself sufficiently, and there's no telling what I would be willing to do for you," she smiled.

He quirked his eyebrow and pulled her into a kiss. "I do like the sound of that."

She kissed him back, then ran her wet fingers through his hair. "Matthew, I do owe you an apology, a real one, about last night with Kemal, and not telling you right away, about making excuses when you found out, about all of it."

"I understand," he nodded. "It is what it is. It's done, and we'll get past it, like we always do."

"No," she shook her head. "I don't want you to just sweep it aside. You deserve more than that. It's just that you know how difficult it is for me to talk about this sort of thing, that's all."

"Mary, it's all right, really," he started.

"No, please, just listen," she interrupted. She turned in his hold and straddled him beneath the water, her arms coming up and resting across his shoulders.

He watched her closely, his hands cupping her bottom, keeping her steady on his lap.

"I can't take back what happened with Kemal, not just last night, but years ago, as well. I know you hated him, that you still hate him. I know now how hurt you must have been to see me with him, both back then and last night, how angry you must have been that I chose to be with someone like him instead of seeing who you really were," she said earnestly.

He blinked. "Mary, I…"

"Shh," she touched her finger to his lips and arched her eyebrow to silence him. "I've already confessed to you how things were with Kemal. I can't deny that I enjoyed the physical part of my relationship with him. The things he did to me were addictive, and enthralling. Those memories will always be a part of me, and as much as you don't want to hear it, he'll always be a part of me in a small way, also."

He frowned, but stayed silent.

She took a deep breath before continuing.

"What you need to know, however, is that everything I did with him, everything he taught me, it's nowhere near as hot or as wonderful as what I do with you. It's not the act of tying me up, or blindfolding me, or being rough with me that turns me on, it's how I feel, the emotion attached to it when you do those things to me. That's why Kemal and every other man will always lose to you, and it's not even close," she stated.

His mouth fell open.

"You're the best I've ever had, darling," she affirmed. "Being with you before was incredible already, but being with you now is…well…it's amazing, really. I've never felt a connection with a lover the way I do with you. It almost scares me sometimes."

He nodded. "It scares me, too. I often feel as if all I want to do is just stay in bed with you forever."

She laughed. "Wouldn't that be glorious? I'm not saying that our marriage is based on great sex, because it's not. Really, the sex is such a small part of why I love you, why I love our life together. But I want you to know that I understand why you worry, why the very idea of Kemal enrages you so, and I'm sorry, I'm sorry that I treated it all so casually and didn't properly consider your feelings. I would never do anything to hurt you, darling. You're my life. I can't say it any more succinctly than that."

He smiled and pulled her close, kissing her soundly.

"Thank you," he said quietly, hugging her to him and kissing her cheek. "That means a great deal to me, a very great deal. Next time that you want to have some angry sex though, can you just say that you put a dent in my car, or something?"

She laughed and pressed herself against him. "Now where would be the fun in that?"

He huffed and kissed her again. His hands moved to her hips and rubbed her against him intently.

"Again? Oh, darling, you're insatiable. You've worn me out," she exclaimed, staring at him in shock and arousal.

"I can be merciful, but we do need to go shower to wash all these bubbles off of us," he noted, smirking at her wickedly.

She grinned, familiar heat pooling in her chest. "Well, I suppose we should go and shower, then," her voice dropped into a sultry whisper. "Carry me there and you can do anything you want with me. I'm too weak to resist you, and I don't want to."

She laughed when she saw his face light up. She laughed again when he rose up and lifted her from the tub, splashing water all over the floor on the way to the shower.

Grantham House, St. James Square, London, England, March 28, 2020

Cora laughed and beamed as she held her newborn grandson in her arms. Two-week old Conor Ignatius Branson slept peacefully, oblivious to the party all around him being held in his honour. Tom's mother stood at Cora's side, accepting the well wishes of the guests and cooing to the sleeping baby.

"If we sneak away now, we might be able to get an hour or two of sleep in," Tom suggested, squeezing Sybil's hand.

"Oh God, yes, please," Sybil nodded. "Take me to bed and I'll love you forever."

"Hang on, are you saying that you don't already?" Tom frowned.

"I've still got stitches, thanks to your son," she glared at him pointedly. "So no, I'm not exactly loving you right now."

Mary and Edith both laughed. Their youngest sister was a rather surly new mother. Lack of sleep was not helping, of course, but all the friends and family coming in to see the baby was wearing on her. She hoped by having this party at Mary and Matthew's, she could get a lot of the visiting out of the way, that is, if she survived the party.

"I don't understand why they're making such a big fuss," Sybil complained, looking across the room at her Mama still holding her son. "Conor isn't their first grandchild, and he's not even their first grandson, on both sides."

"It's because he's the baby of the baby of the family, on both sides," Matthew replied easily, giving Mary a teasing look. "It's a big deal."

Sybil frowned at him before looking over at her sisters.

"Don't look at me," Edith smiled, shaking her head. "The more attention they pay to you, the less they worry about me."

"I hardly think they have any cause for concern," Bertie said smugly, his arm moving around her waist. "I definitely see babies in our future."

"Careful, dear," Edith warned. "If Mama hears you talking like that, she'll begin planning my wedding."

"Well, then I had better get my act together, shouldn't I?" Bertie smiled, reaching over and taking her empty glass from her hands. "I'll go and get you another."

Edith grinned and watched him leave, her cheeks flushing.

"My, my, my, Lord Hexham is rather confident, isn't he?" Mary noted.

"He has reason to be. He already knows what my answer is. I'm horrible at playing coy, you know that," Edith admitted. "He's waiting until our anniversary this summer, I think. He wants us to have been together for a year when he proposes, for appearances. He talks as if we're already married, though, and his mother already approves of me."

"Well, be sure and hold him to that," Anna advised. "Men can be ridiculously slow when it comes to such things."

"Hear, hear," Mary agreed, smirking at her husband.

"You never warned me that marrying Anna would tie me to this lot," Alex grumbled, frowning at Matthew. "Now every joke they make about you seems to include me."

"I'm afraid you'll have to get used to it. It's horribly unfair," Matthew replied.

"Well, I think the jokes about you are rather clever. I just don't want to be caught in the blast," Alex retorted.

They all laughed. Anna reached up and caressed Alex's cheek, her diamond engagement ring sparkling on her finger.

"All right, we should probably make another tour of the room," Tom sighed. "We've left it to your parents to entertain everyone, which isn't fair."

"Are you kidding? They love it. Being back here is like reliving their glory days," Sybil rolled her eyes.

"Except now they don't have to pay the mortgage," Matthew added.

Mary smiled at him wryly.

"Oh, come on! That was funny!" Matthew pouted.

"We'll be back," Tom announced, taking his wife's hand.

"Darling, go on. I told Mrs. Hughes to prepare a room for you upstairs. You can have a kip once you've made your rounds, I promise," Mary smiled.

"See? She's helping," Sybil chastised her husband, following him as they went to speak to their guests.

"I wasn't nearly that ornery with George or Victoria, was I?" Mary asked idly.

"Definitely not. Right, Anna?" Matthew smiled.

"No, certainly not. Not even close," Anna agreed.

Mary arched her eyebrow and looked at both of them. "You're both horrible liars."

"Oh, Papa's waving us over," Edith noted, looking across the room at her father. "That's right, Viscount Branksome is here. You know him, don't you, Alex?"

"He's a client of the firm, yes," Alex nodded, glancing at Anna. "I should probably go over and say hello."

"And you should probably introduce your lovely fiancée to him," Matthew suggested.

Anna looked down at the floor and smiled.

"Let's go and get it over with. I'll go with you," Edith said encouragingly.

"Ten minutes," Alex told Matthew before taking Anna's hand and heading off with Edith.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mary asked.

"If he's not back here in ten minutes, I am to go and rescue him," Matthew explained.

Mary laughed and shook her head.

"So, with all this talk of babies, are you getting any ideas?" he asked, turning and pulling her towards him.

"Seeing as Victoria is still an infant, I think Edith will be the next pregnant one among us three," she replied, looking at him pointedly. "To be honest, the thought of having another baby terrifies me. We'd be outnumbered."

"Well, not really. We'd just hire more staff," he shrugged.

She smiled. "What are you saying? Are you ordering me to give you another child?"

"Actually, no," he shook his head. "I like having two. We can think about it in the future, but I wouldn't mind stopping now. I don't like sharing you."

She laughed and ran her hands over his chest. "Good. I don't like having so little time with you as it is."

He gave her a pointed look. "The room that you asked Mrs. Hughes to make up for Sybil. It's not on the same floor as our bedroom, is it?"

"No, it's one of the guest rooms on the second floor. Why?" she asked.

"I think I'm in the mood for a bit of a kip, myself," he stated. "Why don't you join me?"

"Matthew, the house is full of guests and we're supposed to be co-hosting this party," she scolded him. "We have obligations, duties to carry out. My parents are here, to say nothing for Granny and your mother. You can't just carry me upstairs for an afternoon tryst."

"You're lucky that I don't carry you up naked," he retorted. "Fine. But the minute the last guest leaves, you're mine. I don't care if your family is hanging about or not."

She smiled up at him. "Very well. You're on, but I warn you. You had best back up your bravado. I expect you to make me quite untidy."

He smirked at her knowingly. "Don't worry, darling. We'll be absolutely filthy, I promise."

"Mama!"

Mary gave her husband an arched eyebrow before they both turned in the direction of their son's squealing voice. George came scampering up to them and she scooped him up in her arms, kissing him and making him giggle merrily.

Nanny joined them and handed Victoria to Matthew. He took his daughter in his arms and grinned at her, taking her small hand between his fingers and shaking it.

Mary and Matthew turned towards each other and George reached out and took his baby sister's hand. She stared at him for a moment before smiling, showing off her two teeth.

"Give her a kiss, George. Gentle, now. Gentle," Mary directed.

The boy leaned over and kissed Victoria softly. She reached up and slapped him lightly on the face, laughing at his bewildered expression.

"Just like her Mama," Matthew noted.

"That's right," Mary agreed, smiling at George to reassure the little boy that all was fine. "We don't just let anyone kiss us, do we, princess?"

fin