A powerful storm was coming tonight. It arrived in the form of Stasia Needmore. 

     The business mogul sat primly on a sleek art deco couch in her massive living room, with her arms crossed. Crossing her arms was never a good sign. Neither was staying in her business suit at night; decked in the full regalia of a blouse, miniskirt, stockings and heels. Slipping into silk pyjamas routinely occurred at seven o'clock on the dot, so wearing day clothes at one o'clock in the morning meant there was still business to conduct.

    And Stasia was upset. She was absolutely furious, from the way her lower lip jutted out in annoyance. The glass of wine situated on the coffee table would soothe Stasia for the next hour, but her patient tolerance wouldn't stretch beyond that hour.

    When her tall husband stepped through the door, tottering over and laughing to himself, Stasia ominously rose from her seat, assembling her most vicious arsenal of words for battle.

     Beau turned on his feet, still laughing, to see his wife watching him with a frown on her face. The joy sparked in his eyes went flat; his smile slid shut immediately. Stasia's lips turned downwards in a sneer as she waited for him to speak.

     Beau straightened his relaxed posture and gait, readying himself for battle. He untied his expensive shoes, then walked the few metres to sit opposite his aggravated wife.

    Stasia's eyes flicked over Beau's appearance. His suit was fractionally messier than normal; the tie loose, and the top buttons of his shirt undone. It exposed the skin below Beau's collarbones, which was a strangely tempting sight.

     Stasia focused on her husband's handsome face. She smiled saccharinely as she asked, "Well?"

     Beau looked steadily back at his wife, his kind eyes cool and collected. "What?"

     Stasia levelled a death glare at her husband, in response to his feigned ignorance. Cooling herself, she enquired, "Why did I get a text from Alex Myers asking for a double date on Thursday? How does he even have my number? He's an employee."

     Beau choked in the process of taking off his suit jacket. Once he regained his composure, he looked away from Stasia in embarrassment. "How do you know that Alex is an employee?"

     "Natalia did a background check for me." Stasia answered briskly, looking bored. Even in those dead hours of night, Stasia Needmore spoke like she was conducting business.

     "Then maybe Natalia gave your number to him." Beau suggested, newfound hope gleaming in his eyes.

     "Don't bring my personal assistant into this." Stasia hissed, her voice laced with a deadly sort of calm. She reclined back on the couch, huffing. "Natalia wouldn't do that unless she wanted her bloodied head rolling in front of the office tomorrow."

    Beau stared at Stasia in shock as he asked, "Is this really who you are, Anastasia?"

     Stasia folded her arms, the fire in her eyes cooling to ice. "What do you mean?" she asked Beau. She was genuinely confused.

     Her husband laughed bitterly. "Never mind. Can I go to bed?"

     Stasia rolled her eyes, flicking her hair over her shoulder. "You're a free man, Beaufort. Do whatever you want." she replied, appraising him carefully. "You're drunk. Is that why you're bombarding me with questions tonight?

    Beau scoffed quietly in response. He said nothing to his wife as he stood up. He brushed past Stasia's shoulder as he walked away, and Stasia rolled her eyes at his back. Her husband could be so dramatic.

     She resolved to finish the glass of red wine lying in wait for her. As the silky drops balanced on her tongue, Stasia reflected on her husband's strange behavior. 

     Before she knew it, Stasia was diving into the past memories of Beau when he got drunk. On a date when they were younger, Beau stepped into a fountain for the fun of it. And he somehow persuaded Stasia to join him, because of how cute her husband was when he got drunk.

     He grinned at her, his hair soaked and plastered to his skin. "Come join me?"

     Three words. That was all it took for Stasia to agree, despite her stubbornness. People liked to call Stasia Needmore a stick in the mud behind her back, but they didn't know what Stasia and Beau used to get up to in the night. When she was alone, Stasia could be whoever she wanted.

     And now, Stasia didn't want to admit that she could have been Beau's ruin. Not that boy who dared her to step into fountains, who spent sleepless nights running around New York with her.

     She covered up her guilt with another glass of wine. When she was vaguely inebriated, Stasia resorted to making up a bowl of raspberries in the alcohol's place.

 ❈

     As Beau settled into bed, he mulled over the strange occurrences today. His room was pitch black, thanks to his wall-spanning blackout curtains. 

     Perhaps he'd cursed himself by wishing Stasia a good morning. But of late, Beau was getting sick of the house's loneliness. So when Beau saw Stasia alone on the couch that morning, some impulsive decision made him open his mouth to speak to her. He was looking for some semblance of agreement in his wife, for a want of mutual companionship.

     Tonight, Stasia dashed all of Beau's aspirations to the ground. Her lack of civility, accompanied by her icy voice and cool looks, proved hopeless. 

     Beau squeezed his eyes shut, tossing his arm over his head. Maybe the next day would be better.

     The next day was not better. In the morning, when Beau was making pancakes, he was surprised to see that Stasia wasn't up yet. That, or she'd left early. Or she was wandering the massive house, somewhere. Not that Beau cared.

     When Stasia appeared by his side, peeking over Beau's shoulder, he started and cursed quietly. She was still in her pyjamas, her hair mussed and curly. Beau could still smell those raspberries on her skin.

      His brain went on autopilot. Beau said automatically, "Why didn't you straighten your hair today?"

     Stasia gave him a perfunctory glance. Her pyjamas had diamonds encrusted on the collar, of all the absurd things. "Why, does my hair look bad?"

     "No." Beau answered quickly, flushing as he elaborated, "I meant that you normally straighten it. Did something happen?"

      Stasia lifted an elegant shoulder. "I didn't want to bother with straightening it today."

     Beau frowned. Against his will, he offered, "If you want, I can do it for you."

     Stasia raised her eyebrows in obvious surprise. "Why would you do that?"

     Beau immediately wished he could retract his words. "I'm not sure."

     Stasia almost smiled. Then she shrugged and answered, "Either way, you can't help. My straightener's broken. That's why I didn't do it."

     "Should I order a new one?" Beau asked listlessly. He was already thinking about the huge stack of paperwork on his desk. 

     Beau thought that getting promoted to Director when he got married was a step up. But realistically, he only got the promotion because Stasia needed a high-ranking husband. Since Beau wasn't so well-connected as his wife, she took matters into her own hands.

     "I can get Natalia to buy one for me today. Don't bother." Stasia dismissed smartly. She tossed one of the pancakes in the frying pan onto a plate, wandering off to eat on the couch. Beau waited until she had left the room before hiding his face in his hands.

     Why, oh why, was Stasia Needmore being almost polite to him? 

      No matter how Beau tried, every corner of his mind was occupied by Stasia. Even when he was driving to work that afternoon, and doing his level best to concentrate on the road, visions of long, dark curls and smouldering eyes fluttered into his head.

     Focus, focus, focus. Beau chanted the word as he got out of his car, following the steps to Stasia Needmore's office like Beau was being guided by a higher power. He barely noticed himself knocking on her door. His feet followed Stasia's voice when she briskly asked him to come in.

     Reality decided to swamp Beau once Stasia's intimidating eyes pierced into his. He shuffled uncomfortably on the spot, loosening his tie as he tried to think of something intelligent to say. Normally, that wouldn't be a problem, but Beau was feeling nervous.

    Why on earth was he feeling nervous?

     Stasia folded her arms, looking every bit of a commanding CEO in her office chair; surrounding by metres of her polished oakwood desk. "What is it, Beau?"

     Beau cleared his throat awkwardly. "Um... I wanted to see how you're getting on."

     Stasia raised her eyebrows. "Oh, really?"

      "Yes." Beau said in defeat, wishing he could sink through the floor.

     "I'm doing fine." Stasia said in a chipped manner. She got up from her seat, and Beau observed that she was wearing a pencil skirt today. It only emphasised the shape of her hips as Stasia walked towards the door, where Beau was standing. 

     Once they were facing each other, she dropped her arms, looking fractionally more concerned. "Are you okay? You're looking feverish."

    "I'm wondering if I'm ill as well." Beau murmured. That was the only plausible explanation for why he was feeling weirdly drawn to Stasia Needmore again. He hated the woman, but for some reason, he couldn't stay away.

     Stasia tentatively reached up to touch his forehead with her palm, checking for a fever. Beau stared into his wife's eyes, willing feelings of revulsion to rise up his throat. When it didn't work, Beau groaned in horror and turned, fleeing Stasia's office like he'd been burned.

      When Beau got to his office, he shut the blinds so no one could see into his room and sat on his chair, covering his face with his hands. He was genuinely starting to worry that some kind of mental affliction was responsible for his behavior. Maybe Beau was going mad with the stress of his marriage.

     He picked up his papers dolefully, flipping through them as he debated whether it was too late to ask for an annulment of his marriage; based on the grounds of insanity. The only problem was that Beau didn't know who the problem would refer to; Stasia, or himself.

     Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on his door. Beau looked up from his computer, answering, "Come in."

     An intern shuffled into the room, looking at Beau with an odd expression of awe. Beau's gaze shifted to the package in her hands.

     "From Ms Needmore." the intern said lightly as she placed the parcel reverently on Beau's desk. She backed away from him, smiling as she quietly closed the door.

     "Thanks." Beau called as the intern walked away, but he doubted she could hear. Beau turned his attention to the package, carefully opening it. A stack of bottles and packets fell out, and when Beau looked them over, he realised that it was all variants of medicines and supplements.

     There was a note attached to the wrapping paper. Beau took it out and read the succinct line, written in Stasia's precise hand. 

     In case you need it.

     Beau was almost convinced it was a joke. Stasia wasn't thoughtful or considerate. They were never the type of couple to send flowers or presents. Well, on the contrary, Beau and Stasia used to be sweet on each other. But like Beau said, that was a very long time ago. Or it felt like a long time ago, despite only being three years back.

     Beau frowned, turning the medicines in his hand as he took a quick inventory. Stasia went overboard. There were painkillers, iron supplements, a thermometer, and various other things that Beau wasn't sure about.

       If only Stasia knew that she was the cause of Beau's sudden illness. The problem was, Beau hadn't found a cure to her yet.

❈

      When a sleek-haired goddess strolled into Beau's office that afternoon, he prayed that a spontaneous lightning bolt would strike him where he stood.

      Suki Waterhouse snapped her sunglasses away from her face, slipping them into her pocketbook. Her hair was long, thin and black, her eyes light and friendly. She greeted him with a smile, "Hello, Beau."

     Beau frowned as he responded, "Hello, Suki. Why are you here?"

     Suki tutted in disapproval. "That's rude. I'm here to see how you're getting on."

     Suki clicked her way over to the chair opposite Beau's table, sitting with perfect posture. The model was at the height of her career now, being model of the month for the British edition of the Timeless magazine, and she was glowing with beauty.

     "How was Europe?" Beau finally asked, putting away his paperwork. "I saw your covers for Timeless."

     Suki appraised Beau carefully as he returned to his work, her perfect lips kinked to the side in a careless smile. "Europe was lovely. No congratulations in store for me?"

     "I gave them to Alex already." Beau returned evenly. "Stasia and I will be there, don't worry."

      Suki rolled her eyes. "Always the charmer, you are. I'm not surprised that Stasia took a liking to you."

      "What's that supposed to mean?" Beau protested. "I'm nothing like her." Suki raised her eyebrows in surprise, and Beau thought better of his words. "Because we're very different people. Polar opposites, even."

     "Hm." Suki replied monosyllabically, tapping her maroon nails against Beau's desk. She appraised him like he was one of her bank statements.

     He frowned at her. "Can you stop that? It's annoying." Suki tapped them harder, raising a challenging brow at Beau. He sighed, realising he wouldn't get the better of Suki Waterhouse. "I'm starting to see the similarities between you and Stasia."

      Suki raised a brow. "How so?"

     Beau allowed himself to smile cheerfully, tilting his chair back as he quipped, "You both exclusively devote yourselves to making my life difficult."

      Suki scowled. "I was about to tell you why I'm here, but I won't bother."

     "Why not?" Beau protested. 

     Suki took a sweet from his desk and popped it into her mouth, a mysterious smile fitted to her face. "You know that date Alex told you about?" Beau stared at her blankly. Suki's smile dropped, and she sighed. "We're leaving in an hour. I brought you a spare change of clothes."

     "How?" Beau asked, eyeing Suki's carrier bag in disbelief.

     "Natalia, in one word. Stasia's assistant was quite helpful." Suki answered coolly. She dropped the disposable bag onto his desk, then leaned back in her chair, clapping her hands. "Well? Get to it."

     "I'm not going to change in front of you." Beau protested. He was sure that his fever would worsen if he was forced to spend more time with Stasia.

     Suki laughed, getting up to leave the room as she pointed out, "I'm about to get married to Alex, and you're like a brother to me. I'm not interested in breaching your privacy."

     When Suki was gone, Beau turned to his clothes and appraised them. Jeans and a button-up suited him. But going on a date while he was in this strange condition didn't seem wise. Not to mention that he would be dating the one woman he exclusively wanted to avoid; his wife. That sounded wrong, for some reason...

     As Beau debated on how to excuse his absence, Suki called down the hall, "What's taking so long? I've called the limo already, and Stasia's on her way down. She's taking the elevator."

    He was doomed.

❈