Chapter 70: Love Like Poison

Chapter 70: Love Like Poison –Livana– Both my husband and I were exhausted. I had nearly forgotten about Choco, but I overheard Francis saying he had placed him in the doghouse. I thought it was too small for such a place—until Damon told me that the "doghouse" was actually a two-story structure complete with slides for dogs. There were already guard dogs inside the mansion, so Choco was being kept isolated temporarily to help him recover from the flight. "Tsk," Damon sighed. "Sleep, wife," he insisted. "That way, I’ll be able to sleep too." "Hmm." I absentmindedly traced my forefinger around his chest, brushing against his warm brown nipple as I lay with my head resting on his arm. I could sense he was annoyed—or perhaps just too aroused to think straight. It always puzzled me. No matter how subtle the touch, it never failed to stir something in him. He didn’t want to make love again after our intense bath earlier, but now, despite his fatigue, I could feel him—hard again. I knew he was tired. But I couldn’t sleep. My mind was too cluttered. I still needed to hide that compass—or whatever it was. "Livana," he groaned, voice low and warning. "Okay," I murmured with a smirk. "I’ll let you have it quick before you fall asleep." "Stop touching my nipples, okay?" he grumbled, rolling on top of me. He took my hand and kissed it. "You’re like ecstasy, wife." I tilted my head, quietly admiring the sparse hair on his chest and the old tattoo etched into his right pec. I’d seen it before—on our first night. Just how long had he had that? I remembered the whispers back in high school—how obsessed he supposedly was with me. We weren’t even dating back then. Yet somehow, I’d already left a mark. The tattoo bore my name, my face rendered in minimal strokes, and a pair of vivid purple eyes. "Just once, alright? Don’t wake me again after I fall asleep." "Hmm." We made love—quickly, with barely enough foreplay to ignite me—but still, it was satisfying. He fell asleep moments after, snoring lightly, clinging to my chest like a child. He must have been truly exhausted. I closed my eyes, trying to coax myself into sleep. But I couldn’t. Damn it. I needed to slip out from under him first. He grumbled something unintelligible and rolled away. I sighed and sat up, stretching my arms. Then I quietly opened the drawer, retrieved the compass, and stepped out—only to be met by Choco sitting obediently in front of me. He nudged his nose against my thigh as I bent down to stroke his fur. "Why are you here, Choco?" I asked gently, squatting down to admire him. A beautiful chocolate-colored Labrador Retriever. "Alright, take me to my Logan." I slid my fingers over his vest. The leash was tucked behind him. I found it and looped it around my left wrist. He led me forward. Downstairs, Logan was playing video games with Kai and another man whose voice I didn’t recognize. We reached the center of the room. Choco barked once, and I heard them all turn toward us. I kept my gaze straight ahead. "Logan?" I called softly. "Yeah?" "Can I speak with you?" "Hmm... busy." "Hmm." I gave a nod and added sharply, "Get your ass here." He paused the game and walked over, stopping in front of me. "I want you to check if this thing has a tracker." I raised the compass toward him. "Do you need it done now?" "Yes." He turned to the others. "Can I do it here, with the boys?" "Sure." He took my elbow gently, guiding me to the sofa. I sat down and patted the space beside me. Choco climbed up and rested his chin over my thigh. "What is that?" Kai asked. "That’s weird," said the unfamiliar man, eyeing the object. "What even is this?" "And your name?" I asked calmly, turning toward his voice. He had a piercing on his lip. "I’m Caine, Liva. You’ve forgotten me already?" "Hmm," I mused. I couldn’t recall. Maybe because he was always out running errands for Damon. "It’s from someone," I said. "I just need to make sure it doesn’t have a tracker. But I don’t want it cracked open." "That’s impossible, Livana," Caine sighed. "It’s possible—for the Queen," Logan said with a smirk. "I’ll leave it here. Don’t touch it." He gave the boys a warning look and walked away. "How is that even possible?" Caine muttered. "I have devices for that," I replied coolly. Caine leaned back, silent for a moment, staring at me... then at the compass. "Are there more dogs in this mansion?" I asked suddenly. "Well," Caine nodded. "About ten. Pure breeds. Dobermans, Rottweilers, German Shepherds... that kind. All free to roam around—with cameras on their collars." "Perfect," I nodded, gently stroking Choco. A long silence passed until one of them spoke again. "So, Livana," Caine began, "how long are you planning to play wife to Damon?" I continued petting Choco, who was already snoring—or growling—in his sleep. I considered the question for a moment. "I originally planned for about a year... but I’m actually enjoying being his wife. So, I might extend it to five years or so?" I shrugged. "It depends, Caine." Kai burst out laughing, loud enough to jolt Choco awake. "Shhh," I hushed him, gently patting his head. He was still just a baby—barely a year old. –Damon– My wife’s heavy breathing—followed by soft, rhythmic snores—vibrated through my chest. It felt... different. There was weight pressing down on me. I blinked my eyes open and turned my head to the right, finding Livana peacefully asleep, facing the ceiling. Serene. Untouched by the chaos of the world. Then who the hell is on top of me? I shifted slightly and looked down. Choco. The dog. The damn dog was sprawled across my torso—wearing pajamas? You’ve got to be kidding me. Since when did this mutt get pajamas? I clicked my tongue in annoyance as Choco rolled off me and snuggled beneath Livana’s arm. She curled instinctively around him, holding him like some precious teddy bear. I had to move away, just to give the dog room. How? How the hell did a dog manage to steal my wife right from under me? "Choco," I grumbled lowly, glaring. The damn dog responded by lifting a paw to cover his eyes, as if dismissing me entirely. I exhaled sharply and slid out of bed. In the bathroom, I did my business, but the sight of fur lining the edges of the tub made me stop mid-step. Fur? I bent closer. Traces of Choco’s shedding. Of course. I sighed deeply and shook my head. "This is not a goddamn dog bath," I muttered under my breath. I cleaned the tub, wiped down the tiles, and returned the hairdryer to its proper place. I understood Livana’s condition, that she moved by sound, scent, memory. But this—this was chaos. A gentle, elegant kind of chaos that only she could bring. Still, I cleaned it without complaint. Not for the dog. For her. Afterward, I drank a glass of warm water and returned to the room, standing at the edge of the bed. They were both asleep, wrapped in each other’s warmth like the world didn’t exist. The dog was wearing pajamas. Still. What the hell. Then it hit me—my sister. Three of our dogs were raised by her. Of course she’d pamper them with designer dog clothes. Hell, she probably packed a wardrobe for Choco already. I sighed again. Great. Now Choco needed custom pajamas. But training was still ongoing. Francis and Sophia would have to toughen him up. He was a service dog first. Not a plush toy. My phone vibrated at the bedside. I reached over and checked the time. 3:00 a.m. Time for her eyedrops. I washed my hands thoroughly, dried them with a fresh towel, and retrieved the eye drop bottle from the nightstand. I walked to her side of the bed and leaned over, kissing her face lightly—peppering her cheeks and forehead with affection. "Wifey," I murmured, still kissing her. "Time for your eyedrops." Her eyelids fluttered open slowly. Dazed. Soft. "Baby, come on," I coaxed gently. She blinked, then opened her eyes fully as I carefully held the lower lid. One drop per eye. She blinked once more, then—without a word—turned away from me and snuggled even deeper into Choco. Are you serious? I stood there, unmoving. Why the hell am I jealous over a dog? I shook off the thought. Irrational. Insane. But it still clung to me. I pulled on a black hoodie and joggers, heading downstairs. The living room was dimly lit, with Kai, Caine, and Logan passed out on the sofas, tangled in blankets like oversized children. The place smelled faintly of snacks, cologne, and exhaustion. But something caught my eye. A device—familiar—resting on the coffee table. Sleek. Cold. My fingers moved toward it instinctively. Initials etched into the metal. I.B. What the fuck does that mean? BANG! A sharp, unmistakable sound—like a gunshot—ripped through the air. I jolted toward the sound as Caine jumped to his feet. Dogs outside erupted into a chorus of aggressive barking, their collars triggering alarm protocols. I snatched my phone and opened the security feed. But it was already too late. The system had locked itself.