"You stupid girl," Catherine tells her daughter as they walk through the town hall. "Marriage at eighteen, Emone? Really?"

Catherine digs through her purse and finds her car keys before stopping when she spots Kenna and Antoine shake hands with an officiator. She notes that both people have new rings on their fingers.

She curses. This will be difficult now, she thinks. Her mind goes to when she saw her stepson drunk and depressed over the fact that his ex-wife and his cousin were together.

"You're lucky," she continues to her daughter, walking past Kenna who notes her presence. "That the family lawyers are that good to pay that boy off. If I ever hear you went near him, there will be hell to pay."

"Yes, Maman," Emone mutters.

When she gets to work, she orders Emone to sit with Francis for the duration of her stay until they go home. She has Francis give Emone some files to order alphabetically and other mundane things to do as punishment.

Bash passes her and Catherine reaches out for his shoulder. He turns to her in surprise, staring down at her hand in confusion. "Do you need anything?" He asks her.

"I thought you should be the first to know," she begins. "Kenna married Antoine today."

Bash's face falls before his eyes flash in anger and he sets his jaw, shoving her hand off his shoulder before taking the stairs up to the offices. He heads straight to Francis's office.

"Why the fuck did you tell Catherine about Kenna?"

Francis gestures to Emone whose eyes widen at the sudden entrance. "Leave us."

Emone gets up, grabbing her phone and headphones before she leaves.

"It came out. She was wondering why you were glaring daggers and shoving down drink after drink at the event party," Francis states. "She then put two and two together."

"Well, she told me that Kenna married him today," Bash says tersely. He lets out a frustrated yell, picking up an ornament from the shelf and throwing it onto the floor, the item smashing to pieces.

"Glad I'm having this whole office redone," Francis says lightly, sighing and resting his chin on his fists. "I'm sorry."

Bash scoffs. "She's made up her mind," he says, pacing the room. "If I ever see her again-"

"Hey, I'm here to take some measurements for the sofa."

Bash softens and he turns to find Kenna nervously peeking her head through the glass door. "Hey."

"Hi," she whispers. "Urm, I forgot to factor in the furniture for this office."

"Yeah, I'll go and give you and Francis some space to talk about that," Bash says, about to leave but she stops him.

"Can we go out for lunch?"

Bash nods, eyeing an amused Francis. "Downstairs?"

"No, somewhere... private. Your place," Kenna tells him.

"Yeah, sure," he mumbles before finally leaving.

Kenna turns and gives Francis a smile. "So, about that sofa..."

...

Catherine watches as Bash opens the car door for Kenna, the woman getting in before he closes the door behind her. He then gets in the other side and she wonders if there's anything going on between them.

Bash turns to Kenna as he drives on, seeing that she's looking out the window. "I know about the..."

"It was quick," Kenna whispers.

"Yeah?"

"Barely acknowledged what was going on," she tells him, taking off her glove and staring down at her wedding ring. "I don't feel the same way I did when you put the ring on my finger."

Bash briefly looks at her. "You don't?"

Kenna nods shakily. "I felt certainty with you but... this gives me uncertainty. I don't know where Antoine and I will end up. I don't know what to feel."

"Kenna-"

"Let's put some music on." She turns the radio on and hums along to the song, sharing a soft smile with him. "Our song."

"How fitting," he replies, placing a hand on her knee. He sighs in relief when she doesn't remove it.

When they get to the house, driving up the driveway and stopping in front of the front door, Bash helps her out as he hands the keys over to his chauffer and leads her inside.

He takes her to the dining room where lunch is laid out, courtesy of their personal chef and Kenna blushes when he pulls her seat out for her and pushes it in when she sits down. He sits down in his seat, diagonal from her at the head of the table and raises his glass.

"To Madame Bourbon," he says, strained.

Kenna sips her wine. "Don't say that," she whispers. "I didn't want it."

"Then why-"

"Did I go through with it?" She asks. "Because he's been better since we got married. Maybe that was it. We weren't close and now we're married, everything's brighter."

Bash rolls his eyes. "Why are we here?"

"Although things are great with Antoine... I-I always thought that..."

"Go on..."

"Well, the first child I'd have would be yours," she breathes out, meeting his widening eyes.

"Ken-"

"I know, it's crazy but," she begins, taking his hand. "Please? I'm not ready for a kid with Antoine but I have always been ready to have one with you and-"

"Are you drunk or high?" Bash asks, removing his hand. "You're asking me to get you, my ex-wife, pregnant the same day you marry someone else! What the fuck?"

Kenna sighs, covering her face. "Yeah, I'm being stupid," she mumbles. "Sorry. I just..."

"Have a drink," he tells her gently,

She downs her wine and he pours her another. "Everything has been so confusing," she tells him. "I still love you Bash but I love Antoine and... I don't know what to do."

"So you thought having my kid would help?" He asks, confused. "Kenna, that's not something we should take lightly. A kid, for God's sake."

"I know," she whispers shamefully. "I'm such a disgusting person and I never should have asked you to do that."

Bash sighs. "No, don't beat yourself up. We can just forget about it," he tells her, gulping more wine down. "Shall we eat?"

Kenna takes his hand. "Antoine asked me if I kissed you. I said 'yes'. He also asked if we..."

"If we had sex?"

She nods. "Obviously we didn't but the thought did cross my mind."

"It did?"

"I'm sorry for pushing you away," she says gently. "We could still be friends." She leaned closer. "With benefits."

Now Bash could smell it. "You are drunk."

"How did you think I was going to get through that wedding?" She asks, rolling her eyes.

"Kenna-"

"Come on," she says, reaching over to cup his cheek. "Take me to bed. Our bed. We can consummate my marriage instead, right?"

Bash pulls away. "What happened to your hand?"

Kenna looks down at her hand, realising that she took off her leather gloves earlier when they arrived. She's done so well, keeping them hidden, away from him but now he sees her right, bruised hand.

"I guess you were too drunk to realise," she says lightly. "I slammed my hand with the car door when I went to put my things in the backseats."

"Looks bad."

"It was," she says. "Antoine took me straight to the hospital. He was worried about it, saying that it was my writing hand and all and... He almost hired someone to follow me around so I didn't strain it.

Bash shakes his head a little. "That's kind of him."

"See? He's been great," she tells him.

"Is that why you're here, begging me to sleep with you in hopes of making a baby?"

Kenna falters. "T-That's just-"

"Kenna, I want you to be honest with me."

"We always are with each other," she says softly.

Bash nods. "You want me?"

Kenna swallows deeply. "Yeah, I do," she says, her voice above a whisper.

"You love me?"

She nods. "I never stopped either."

Then his lips are on hers and she doesn't fight it this time or push him away. She encourages it, feeling her dress loosen as her hands find the buttons on his shirt.

"Upstairs," he says, pulling away and getting up.

She places her hand in his and he gently squeezes it before she leads them to the bedroom. Their bedroom. It feels like old times, clothes being ripped off, lips being moulded together, perfume and aftershave. Familiar surroundings...

She giggles when he attacks her neck with kisses, almost begging him to leave bites. She doesn't even care if Antoine finds out. She pulls Bash's head up to meet her lips and nibbles at his bottom lip, moaning in satisfaction when his tongue meets hers.

"I love you," he whispers into her ear, inhaling her scent as her fingers work on his trousers.

Kenna stops. "I-I can't..."

Bash freezes against her skin, pulling away to face her. "Kenna-"

"I... I married someone else this morning," she breathes out, running her hands over her hair. "What am I doing?" She sinks down onto the floor. "What am I doing? Oh, God. What am I doing? What-"

Bash kneels down in front of her, taking her hands in his. "I get it," he tells her, sighing heavily. "I'm sorry."

Kenna lets out a sob. "Antoine loves me and I do this to him? Oh, God. I'm so stupid. I'm a stupid girl-"

"No, stop," Bash begs her. "Ma chérie, please."

Kenna looks into his green eyes. "It's been years since I've heard that from your lips," she whispers, eyes wide with tears. She cups his cheeks, feeling his stubble underneath her palms. "Mon amour."

She lets go and stands, sliding her dress off and looking down as he watches her intently, desire in his eyes. She mentally thanks God that she makes at least one man feel like that. She's missed him, Bash never took without giving back nor without asking.

"Green," he says, eyeing her matching lace bra and panties. He sees the bruises, purple-blue-red, but he doesn't say anything about them and from her eyes, she doesn't want him to say anything. So he doesn't and reaches out for her as if he's a servant bowing down to a queen.

"Just for you," she says, kneeling down and kissing him. Seems like he's the king to her queen. "Always for you."

She gasps when his hand presses against her, digging her face into his shoulder.

"Can I...?"

She nods. "Please," she whispers. "Whatever you think I'd want, just do it and don't ask permission. I need you."

Bash leans back to stare into her brown eyes. "You have me."

...

Catherine watches as the Beaton woman, or Bourbon woman avoids Bash. He seems to be all for it as well, every time they pass each other, he practically treats her as if he's been burnt.

As Kenna works on her office now, she notices that the woman winces every time she uses her right hand, cursing to herself which emits eyebrow raises from Catherine and bashful looks from Kenna.

As Kenna lifts up an ottoman, she lets out a moan and Catherine stands from her seat to come over to inspect the damage.

"This material was sourced from India-" She cuts herself off when she sees Kenna pressing a hand against her chest. "Are you alright?"

"Just twinges," Kenna says, winded. "I fell down the stairs and my rib was probably bruised, I don't know."

"You should see a doctor-"

"No!" Kenna cries out. "No, it's just that I've seen one already. Rest up, was their advice."

Catherine is doubtful. "Right," she says, unconvinced. "Come with me-"

"Madame de Medici-"

"Kenna, sit down."

Kenna does as told, swallowing nervously. "Have I done something wrong?" She asks. "If the designs are not to your liking, I can alter them-"

"You're awfully apologetic," Catherine says, taking a seat on her desk and crossing her leg over the other. "I remember you now. A naughty, outspoken, vain teenager. You are quite the different person to who you once were. Almost life years away from that teenage girl."

"I grew up," Kenna says quietly.

Catherine furrows her brows. "I know what it's like," she says. "To feel afraid."

"I don't know what you mean," Kenna says firmly.

"When I was a teenager, my father was hard on me. He'd hit me when things went wrong, scream at me, blame me for his mistakes," Catherine tells her. "So I rebelled. I found Henry and he took me away from all of the pain and the hurt. We split up and I went crawling back to Papa. The look on his face and the marks on my body after... Long story short, I avoided home and got myself pregnant at seventeen, gave the baby up and made it on my own. If not for Henry's family's hospitality, I'd be long since dead. Now I've made it, my father calls me to his deathbed. Do you know how hard it is to forgive and forget?"

"Why are you telling me this?" Kenna asks.

Catherine smiles wryly. "Abuse can happen in many different forms. It can break people. I can see that you're almost at breaking point."

Kenna cracks. But just a little. "He loves me," she tells Catherine.

"They all say that but-"

"Bash," Kenna quickly says. "He still loves me. I know you don't know this but-"

"You were married?"

Kenna's eyes widen. "Y-Yes-"

"And something happened between you both yesterday when he left for lunch, you right beside him."

"I slept with him," Kenna whispers. "On my wedding day to someone else and I lied to my husband and said I had an allergy reaction when he saw the love bites. I'm such a horrible person, wife. Here he is, working hard to give me the world and I jump in bed with the man who couldn't do so in the first place. Now, I don't know who I want."

Catherine sighs. "Leave Antoine, Kenna. It will be the best thing you ever do."

"I can't," Kenna breathes out. "Because I'm his."

You don't know what to say after that. You realise that it's probably too late. The second you think you belong to another, you let a large piece of yourself go. You can't quite believe the woman before you as she stands and gets about her work as if your conversation never happened.

You don't exactly know the ins and outs of her relationship-turned-marriage and you mentally curse, spotting the woman eye her ex-husband who is doing his hardest to ignore her. He's embarrassed, you realise, remorseful, disgusted... But not with the woman before you, but with himself and you study said woman and see as the light goes completely from her eyes and she nods in confirmation, turning away from him.

You watch as she finally lets love go for the sake of someone who isn't even worth the air she breathes nor the ground she walks on. You watch as her soul hardens and guards itself even more and perhaps, even dies.

"Kenna?"

"Oui, Madame?"

Catherine swallows deeply, planting on a smile on her face. "Do you think you can source another Indian ottoman for me?"

Kenna nods with a small smile. "Of course, Madame. I'll get right on that."