Their hug lasted for an hour. Or so it seemed to Beau Talbot.

     He closed his eyes, burying his face into the silk of Stasia's shirt. She felt overly hot because of the fever, and she smelled of her lilac perfume. Beau caught traces of it sometimes when Stasia walked past him in the corridor.

     Stasia seemed to need the hug as much as he did. She was shaking slightly, which made Beau even more worried because of her already weakened condition. What if it was something worse than a simple fever and headache?

     He withdrew back from Stasia to look her over carefully. Neither of them got much sleep anymore, and the dark circles under Stasia's eyes proved testament to it.

     "You should sleep." Beau coaxed his wife. "The doctor will be here in five to ten minutes."

     She nodded silently and pushed him away, smoothing down her blouse. "Okay."

      Neither of them knew how to address the hug that Stasia initiated. It was their first genuine expression of warmth, of feelings still remaining towards each other. Beau was terrified to peel apart what that could mean for their relationship.

       So, as Beau always did, he brushed it aside. But he knew that one day, they'd be forced to confront their situation.

      When Stasia went to her bedroom, Beau showed the doctor to her. The doctor spoke to Stasia privately for a few minutes, then he asked to speak with Beau in the living room of Stasia's mansion.

      "She seems very overworked. Not only that, mentally she is quite fraught. Perhaps an open and honest conversation would be a suitable treatment, rather than any medication I could give her. Of course, I could suggest counselling." the doctor looked keenly at Beau.

      He shook his head. "I'll speak to her once you leave. Thank you."

      Once the doctor was gone, Beau sighed and pressed his fingertips to his temple. Things always went wrong in pairs. Suki knew about his failed divorce agreement, meaning Beau needed to tell Stasia as soon as possible.

      On the other hand, Stasia was already feeling pressured by everything else in her life. Most of which Beau was certain he wouldn't know about.

       Stasia ran a hand through her long brown hair, sighing. "My family has scheduled a dinner tonight. We have to go."

       "What?" Beau was sure he didn't hear her correctly.

       "My family wants to hold a summit, and they're asking us to join." Stasia repeated patiently.

       Beau's blood ran cold. "But we haven't gone to one of those dinners together in years."

      "Mother asked me specifically to bring you." Beau stared at Stasia, who still had a pallor to her cheeks, while the cogs in his mind turned over and over.

      If Beau disliked Stasia, he absolutely abhorred his in-laws. Beau's parents came from humble beginnings, and he knew that the Needmores looked down on him because of it. They never considered him a part of their family, so why start now?

      Beau didn't think about the repercussions of their failed marriage surfacing to the family. Instead, he was wondering why the Needmore family gatherings were compared to a professional summit.

     He rolled his eyes. If that wasn't an indication of how the Needmores operated; less like a family, and more like a business unit, then Beau didn't know how to explain their dynamic. And Stasia was the pillar of the next generation of Needmores.

     That evening, Beau wore his best suit, which Stasia gifted to him last year for his birthday. Gifted was an arbitrary term for the way she'd told her secretary to leave it outside his bedroom door in the morning.

     Beau left his bedroom to find Stasia waiting in the living room. Her evening gown was a deep pinkish-red. Almost coral, but not quite. The color of a raspberry.

     He was briefly reminded of the conversation he's shared with Stasia at the restaurant. She compared their relationship to raspberries. Sweet to taste initially, then the sourness reveals itself. Or was it the other way around?

      Their entrance hall held a huge mirror, spanning the length and height of the entire hall. The couple stared at their reflections; Stasia picked up her evening clutch and fixed her earrings while Beau straightened his tie.

     "You look beautiful." Beau told his wife honestly. He wasn't sure why he was complimenting her, considering that a few days ago, he hated Stasia Needmore. But the compliment fell from his lips naturally.

     Stasia's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Thank you, Beau." she replied quietly, her red mouth moving sensuously as she spoke. Beau worked so hard to not look at it. But come to think of it, Stasia's lips were always one of his favourite features of hers.

     He looked away. "It's nothing." Beau wondered if she noticed his suit, if she remembered that she'd bought it. As Beau turned to leave, he heard Stasia call his name softly. "Beau?"

     He turned with his foot in the doorway. Stasia was standing by the mirror, her fingertips pressed to the glass. As his eyes met hers, she smiled. And Beau swore his heart picked up its pace in response.

     "I knew that suit would look good on you." She winked and walked past him, the silk of her dress fluttering over his hand on the doorjamb.

     Beau felt like he was floating in the clouds as he followed Stasia to their car.

*

     As Beau drove to the Needmore Mansion, his mind was occupied with thoughts of the Needmore Family.
     
     First, there was her brother Declan. Hapless, and probably somewhere around the world partying while his older sister worked her ass off. Ibiza was a favourite location of Declan's recently. Then her parents. Stasia's mother was the human equivalent of a dinosaur; not in that she was ancient, but she held the ferocity of a tyrannosaurus, in Beau's mind. Stasia's father Stanford was quieter than the rest, but no less intimidating.

     As Beau pulled up to a driveway larger than the Superbowl stadium, he wound down his window to type in the PIN to unlock the wrought-iron gates. They swung open at the pace of a snail, which gave Stasia and Beau plenty of time to absorb the lavish splendor that the Needmore matriarch and patriarch lived in. Gilded statues everywhere. Even the garden gnomes' hats were adorned with real diamantes.

     Beau rolled his eyes. All that was gold did not glitter indeed. He used to love Stasia, but even she couldn't escape the Needmores' family traits of apathy and ignorance. He would spent nights waiting for her to return home. Hundreds of dinners were left untouched at night. Then, one day, Beau stopped trying, and they fell into ruin.

     Now they needed to pretend they were still a unit in front of the entire extended Needmore family.

      "Beau." Denise said, looking him up and down. He thought her upper lip curled as she watched him.

     "Hello, Denise." Beau greeted her politely. He stood aside as Stasia walked up the stone steps carefully in her heels. She approached her mother, and the pair nodded at each other silently. Stasia proceeded past her mother into the grandiose hallway, and Beau followed in her steps.

     Once he caught up to her, Beau gently grabbed Stasia by the arm. "What was that?"

     Stasia turned to stare at him, pulling her arm away from him. "What do you mean?"

      "You didn't say a word to her." Most times, Beau knew Stasia to at least exchange a word with her immediate family, if no one else. But today he'd barely seen an inclination of interest in his wife.

      Stasia's expression turned icy. "Stay out of my relationship with my parents, Beau." She looked him up and down, then sneered. "You wouldn't think we'd been married for three years."

      "No." Beau agreed. He thought he saw Stasia's eyes fracture, but in the blink of an eye, her expressionless mask returned. They walked to the dining room side by side in silence, but the wall between them was growing thicker than ever before.

*

        When Stasia opened the double doors to the dining room, she wasn't expecting the sight that greeted her.

      Her brother was sitting at the head of the table. When Declan's eyes met hers, he stood up with a goofy grin, raking his chestnut hair back with one hand. "Sister." He opened his arms, clearly expecting Stasia to go in for a hug. 

     Instead, the Needmore heiress folded her arms, looking away with her lips pursed. She walked gracefully over to her seat, at the centre of the right side of the table, and sat down.

     "What's her problem?" Declan turned to Stasia's husband with an enquiring raise of his eyebrow. Stasia watched surreptitiously as Beau merely sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He proceeded to sit in the seat next to Stasia's, looking stonily in front of him.

      Stasia nearly reprimanded him in front of her entire family. They needed to keep a united front, else her parents would feel incited to question Stasia's hold over the Needmore empire. She deserved the company more than anyone. 

      But was Beau annoyed at Declan or her?

      When did she start caring about how he felt about her?

      She carefully arranged her long hair over her shoulder, keeping her head held high. Stasia wasn't prepared to give up her hard work of the past five years, and she would make it clear to anyone who objected.

      When her parents walked through the door, Stasia nearly felt inclined to stand to greet them, the way she'd been taught to when she was a kid by her governess. But now Stasia Needmore was an adult. She commanded her own brand of respect.

      Even then, Stasia's mother made her feel uneasy as an awkward teenager. The Needmore matriarch cast a kohl-lined eye to Beau, then she turned to Stasia. "Welcome home."

       The words themselves were warm and appeared to be from a place of good intent. But Stasia knew better. "Hello." she answered her mother's greeting reservedly.

       Out of the corner of her eye, Stasia could see Beau looking questioningly at the pair.

       Stasia tried to control any signs of a blush appearing on her cheeks from embarrassment. Beau and she had been married for years and Stasia still felt uncomfortable whenever they met her family together. She knew that Beau had his own family, who he was probably close with and loved. 

     But Stasia's perspective on relationships was different. She'd been taught from a young age to never expect affection from her parents. The first person she could say she'd ever loved with certainty was Beau. But everyone knew that those feelings evaporated a long time ago.

      "Stasia." her father said, his voice low and sombre. He emanated power, despite speaking little, and addressing people even less.

      Stasia turned to him, not bothering to smile as she said, "Hello, Father. How has business been in the last quarter?"

       "Fairly decent." his lip curled. "My assistant said you didn't turn up to work often last week."

       Stasia blushed. She didn't dare to look at Beau. "Beau and I were sick, Father. I needed to take care of my husband."

       Her father's eyes turned to Beau, presumably, who was sitting on Stasia's left. "Is that true?"

       "Yes, sir." Beau agreed. He didn't sound annoyed or upset, and Stasia hoped that he was feeling okay about the situation. She'd only told him that afternoon that her parents summoned them to dinner. 

      Beau was probably keeping it together because he knew what the wrath of the Needmore family would look like. At best, it would mean Beau's desk being cleared out before the next week.

      "You were both sick at the same time?" Declan butted in with a grin.

      Stasia gave her brother a perfunctory glance. "Yes, transmission tends to happen when two people live in the same house together, Declan."

      "Stasia, stop arguing with your brother." Stasia's mother interrupted. Declan didn't bother to reply, instead opting to down his champagne at a concerning speed.

      "Why did you call us here, Mother?" Stasia asked, straight to the point.

       Stasia's mother fiddled with her ring, avoiding Stasia's eyes. "It's been three years since you got married, Stasia. The future of the Lion Group is at stake, because you are our future. As well as your progeny."

       Stasia's blood ran cold. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

       "If a grandson comes along, we want you to name him after your grandfather on your father's side." Stasia's mother smoothed her napkin down on her lap with her hands.

        Stasia turned to her father, her eyes wide with surprise. "Grandfather Tobias? Father, that should be my choice. Besides, I'm not ready to have a child yet. You promised the company would be mine if I got married."

      "What?" Beau interrupted. He was staring at Stasia, his eyes intensely fixed on hers.

      Stasia paled. She didn't realise that Beau was unaware of her marriage condition. "Beau, that's not what I meant."

      He ignored her response. "Are you really going to listen to this?" Beau asked Stasia quietly.

      When she didn't answer, Beau stood from his chair and left the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. Stasia listened to his footsteps fade into silence, staring at her empty plate.

     "Leave him." Stasia's mother waved her hand in the air warily. "We have bigger fish to fry, my dear."

     Stasia blew a lock of hair away from her face, then she leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms. "Like what, mother? You've just driven away my husband." she replied contemptuously.

     Stasia's mother offered a placating smile. "Children isn't our only motivation for asking you to dinner, my dear. You understand the necessity for politics at the dinner table, don't you?"

     It wasn't a question. Denise was reaffirming that Stasia was on their side still. Stasia cast a glance at the open door, which Beau just walked out of, then she looked back at her mother. "Of course." Stasia said drily, her voice dripping with practised venom.

     "Perfect." her mother replied briskly. Stasia's father watched their exchange silently, occasionally sipping at his champagne glass. "Your brother Declan will be giving up his travelling this year. I expect that he'll want to supervise the company."

     "Him?" Stasia gestured incredulously to Declan, who was now napping with his head on the dining table. "He couldn't supervise a kindergarten class, let alone the company I've been working on for years. Our family conglomerate." she emphasised.

     Stasia looked to her father for some kind of help. He barely raised an eyebrow at her. Stasia rolled her eyes in return and watched for her mother's reaction. 

     "He is still your older brother, Anastasia." Denise reminded her. "Declan will be more than capable to take care of the Lion Group in future."

     "What does that mean? Are you trying to replace me with him?" Stasia demanded. She felt the vice of irrational fear gripping her.

     Control. Stasia sought after control like it was the most pleasurable prize in existence. Because control was very difficult to grasp in a family where everyone fought for the highest place of prominence. Stasia's father allowed her licence for the past few years, and now it was being unfairly snatched from her.

     Of course Stasia's sanity was dissipating by the second.

     "What are you going to do about it?" Stasia's father finally spoke up. The first sentence he spoke, and he was taunting her. Dangling the company above his firstborn's head like a carrot on a string.

     The conglomerate heiress stared at her father in contempt, then her gaze flicked to her older brother, drunk and asleep with his head on the table. Stasia stood from her seat, knocking her chair back as she picked up her clutch.

      She strode out of the door in search of her husband.

///