Sue has graying hair. She's over fifty years old and her breakfast is mouth-watering. She also pulls Catalina in for a warm hug, telling her how much she's wanted to meet her.

Catalina feels bad. Because. Well. Nothing to worry about there.

Merlot, however, has had her eyes on Kael the second they descend the stairs. Catalina wishes she never put on the damn sweater so she can show off her assets, too—never mind that they're lacking—because the captain is in a black lace bra top that leaves little to the imagination and a matching pair of slacks and blazer in gray stripes.

It pisses Catalina off that, like that day in the Di Angelo mansion, she manages to look intimidating and sexy at the same time. It infuriates her that Kael does not need to imagine because he's already seen and touched under her clothes.

But her husband, apparently, has more important things to think about rather than her inner raging jealousy.

"So I get a text this morning," Kael starts quietly, spreading avocado paste onto a slice of toast. He does it meticulously, twisting his wrist that's holding the knife slowly so all of the avocado stays on the bread. "Fucking it up further—thank you, Samara—"

"You're welcome," the informant says with a bright grin.

"—Because I find out that our cargo aircraft to Montford exploded. Is that right?"

It's the first time Catalina eats at the long dining table. Kael sits at the head, and according to level of superiority, Polo sits at his right. Chuck should be seated at his left, but he pulled out the chair for Catalina when they entered the dining area with a wink and Kael all but forced her to sit down next to him. Chuck sits beside her, followed by Samara, and Jae sits beside Polo, Merlot next to him.

She's never seated at the side of the head of the family before. It's always her mother, her father's right, and then Aires, and then her.

What shocks her even more than that is the difference in Kael. The playfulness of his teasing in the bathroom just five minutes before is gone—he's all business now. The Fourth.

"Yes," Polo answers stiffly.

"Chuck hyung, pass me a scone, please," Jae asks politely with furrowed eyebrows, angrily eating his waffle. He's in a fluffy and oversized pink sweater and joggers. His six individual stone piercings shine down the curve down of the line of his right ear.

Chuck passes him the lemon blueberry scone.

"How much did we lose?" Kael asks, still in that chillingly low voice of his.

The set of Merlot's jaw tells Catalina that this is really bad. She glances at her with a look Catalina can't decipher, then back at Kael.

"How. Much," Kael repeats, firmer than earlier.

Merlot grits her teeth. "Roughly two million."

Catalina promptly chokes on the baked eggs she's chewing. Everyone turns to look at her

"Sorry," she squeaks, grimacing.

Silently, Kael offers the glass of water to her.

"Thanks." Her face flames as she takes it, not looking at him.

She hears Chuck's snicker beside her, and Catalina reaches down the table to pinch his thigh. He hisses under his breath.

"What did the airline say?" Kael questions, raising his eyebrow. He's looking at Merlot.

"Nothing survived, so aircraft or technical malfunction," she bites out, obviously pissed off as well. "It was an error."

Nothing? No one?

"Who's at Montford right now?" Kael takes a bite out of his food.

Polo looks at Catalina, and then he tears them away in a split second.

Her eyebrows draw together.

"Mirkov is finishing business with the Lazarettos," Samara says gleefully with a smile. "They'll be expecting a visit. Hey, can someone pass me the maple syrup?"

Merlot passes it over to Samara.

"Of course they will. I want everything on the pilot, the airline, our people. Every cent, their properties, their debts, their partners' shopping cards, their text messages, the last person they talked to, the last time they took a shit," Kael says, sipping his coffee. "I want to know who talked to fucking Mirkov and what he offered them."

Catalina blinks and furrows her eyebrows. He thinks it's the Mirkovs who intercepted their cargo delivery?

They're an old family—much older than the Kincaids and the Di Angelos. They're not enemies with Catalina's family but they certainly don't hit the bar together, either. From what she remembers, the head, Crius, is friends with the Third, which means the relationship between the Kincaids and the Mirkovs should be...civil.

But the Third is dead.

Kael's right nods. "The plane's waiting."

"Polo and Jae, you're coming with me," Kael orders.

Both men instantly scowl.

"Aw." Chuck grins devilishly and winks at Jae. "You sure? Cerberus needs to be on a tight leash, Fourth, he has a habit of disobeying your orders whenever Mirkov's around. And Polo..." He whistles and laughs under his breath, chewing his food.

Kael raises an eyebrow at his brother. "You don't speak. Understand?"

The boy stabs his waffle and deadpans, "Woof, woof."

"I'm going," Merlot argues as well, in a voice that says end of discussion.

Kael narrows his eyes at her. "No. You and Chuck are going to check the supplies and the other cargos."

"Hash, please," Jae mutters, pointing to the plate in front of Catalina, head bowed. He's still angrily staring at his food.

Catalina gives it to him.

"And the two million?" Polo questions, his jaw hard.

"I spend that shit in a day when I'm feeling petty and expensive," Kael says calmly, like they're not talking about two million in the middle of a good breakfast eating raspberry pain au chocolat pastries and bacon omelettes and hashed potatoes. "We're coming home late."

Polo nods once, still looking quite murderous.

The principle of Mirkov potentially messing something of the Fourth means the Fourth isn't coming home without retaliating.

"Juice," Chuck asks Polo, holding his glass over the air, leaning forward on the table. Polo pours the orange juice into his glass.

"Samara, you're staying with Catalina here," Kael says.

"'Kay!" she quips, flipping her hair behind her shoulder. "We're going to have the best day ever."

She hesitantly smiles when Samara peeks over Chuck's shoulders to make grabby hands at her.

Kael stands up. "We're meeting at the hangar in fifteen."

Breakfast over.

Upstairs, while Kael secures his cuff links in front of the mirror, all dressed and ready after a quick shower with his hair gelled back, Catalina watches him from the bed, still in her sweater and cotton shorts.

Kael looks at her in the mirror. "What?"

She bites her lip. "You just lost two million and you don't care."

"We did," Kael corrects casually, moving to his other arm. "And I wouldn't bother making this inconvenient trip if I didn't."

He doesn't care about the money. He cares about the principle of Mirkov messing with him.

What is baffling to Catalina is the fact that Kael didn't shoo her away. When her father talked business, her mother was never in the room—women didn't need to know anything about it. Their jobs were to keep the husband happy and the children in line.

Because she might use what she learns against him.

When she asked Kael to show her around yesterday, she expected him to shut it down. He didn't.

"This is supposed to be classified information within your inner circle, isn't it?"

Kael picks up his watch. "My inner circle now includes you."

"Polo and Merlot don't think so," Catalina counters with a raised eyebrow, thinking of the looks directed at her earlier.

"If I wanted opinion from people on our payroll, I would've asked for it," he almost snaps, raising his head to meet her eyes as he puts on his watch around his wrist. "I won't tell you about the things that will haunt you, Catalina—they will stay with me and me alone. But those that will not, I won't ask you to have breakfast anywhere else rather than by my side."

Catalina's lips part in silent surprise.

He's trusting her so easily. Too easily.

He turns around and walks over to her, bringing his large palms to her face to tip it up. Catalina meets beautiful, coffee-brown eyes, and her heartbeat picks up. "My empire is yours," Kael says quietly. Sincerely. "Understand?"

Catalina doesn't want it—a blood-soaked empire ruled by the Reaper. The Prince of Darkness now King. The lives of so many people with four lines etched at the back of their necks on his shoulders.

And here he is, offering it to her.

Her rightful place beside his throne.

She doesn't want it, but she would rather have this than become her mother. Even if she doesn't have all of Kael, his body shared with someone else, his heart lost to cruelty and darkness and shadows of death, breaths he took—she has his protection because he owns her.

Catalina stares into his eyes and nods once. Slowly. "You—we have a plane?"

The tip of his lips curls upward. His thumbs brush her cheeks. "Yes. I have to go. Samara will stay with you, Chuck will come by in the evening if I'm not back yet."

It's pointless to tell him she doesn't need a babysitter, but... "You can't keep me locked up here while you're out doing business, Kael."

His eyes search hers, narrowing.

Catalina tries to reign in her patience as his hands slowly drop away from her face. This is a man with more enemies than his cells in his body. "I'm not allowed to work and I'm not allowed to leave the house. This is making me your prisoner. I'm not going to be your bed warmer."

"The bed does, indeed, need warming."

Catalina glares at him and scoffs, pushing him back and standing up. "The guest room's bed needs warming, too."

Kael grabs her wrist in a tight grip. "Your safety comes first. Keeping you happy is next. I'm working on getting you back in the hospital with a security detail I will not hear arguments about. Today, if you want to leave the penthouse, leave with Samara and Chuck. You don't go anywhere without Chuck, Polo, Jae, or me."

Catalina arches a brow at his angry face, feeling her chest expand in unexplainable warmth. "Hospital?" she whispers.

"Damn it." Kael's teeth grit as he looks away and drops her arm, rubbing his palm over his jaw. "Yes, hospital. You're not a prisoner here."

Her heart is soaring at the fact that he's been finding a way around her work, but— "If I weren't, I shouldn't have to ask you for permission when I come and go the house."

"You have the code and the key card. Your handprint is registered."

"And yet you make the decisions for me, and my freedom is contingent on your people."

"Our people," Kael bites out, face visibly hardening. "Christ, Catalina. Whatever you want, tell me and I will give it to you, but your safety is where I draw the line. I won't apologize for it because I won't come back to an empty bedroom again, do you understand?"

His words hang over the air between them. Catalina sucks in a deep breath.

"I protect what's mine," Kael finishes quietly, his eyes hard and intense. "Do. You. Understand?"

God. This man.

"You are infuriating," Catalina tells him, stepping forward, putting a hand on his cheek. His stubble tickles her fingers, and he keeps his eyes on hers. "I understand, but you won't apologize, and I won't thank you either."

"You are just as infuriating," he mutters under his breath, and his hand comes down to her butt. Hard. It makes Catalina yelp and jump, arms flying around his neck. Kael gently rubs his hand down her butt and to her lower back, then he frowns. "What the hell was that?"

It makes Catalina chuckle quietly, leaning on his shoulder. "It's called communication."

"Never heard of it."

She rolls her eyes, but she's still smiling. "You're working on it. It's something required in marriages."

His brow arches. "Ah. You know what else is required? Sex. Fucking. Lots of it—"

Catalina shushes him with a kiss that he immediately returns.

"Working on it," Catalina whispers after pulling away, and then she steps back.

His surprise is evident in his features.

She shakes her head with a smile. "Come on, you'll be late."

He takes her hand and leads her downstairs. Polo is already gone, presumably waiting by the car, but Merlot, Chuck, and Jae are still at the bar. Catalina blinks at Jae's all-black fitted outfit, his hair parted to show his forehead. He's playing with his knife in one hand and sipping on his banana milk in the other.

Samara is out on the patio with a glass of wine, making Catalina scrunch her nose. It's ten in the morning.

Kael turns to Catalina, pulls her close by the waist, and brushes a kiss to her mouth. "I'll be back."

She nods. She doesn't know what to say, but she trusts in the promise of his words.

The moment he lets Catalina go, Merlot stands up. "I'm going," she says, and Catalina blinks when her mouth trembles. "Kael."

"Shut up," he says, walking away. "I don't need distractions there and that's all you'll be. Jae, let's go."

A distraction? Christ.

Jae bows at everyone before he follows after his brother.

Merlot's jaw tightens. She looks at Catalina once, as if she had anything to do with Kael's rejection, and promptly walks away. Her heels make clicking sounds on the floorboard. "Chuck!" she barks, not turning back.

"Jesus Christ, this woman," Chuck complains, downing the last of his coffee.

"Change of plans," Kael says. "You're accompanying Catalina and Samara instead."

"Where we going?" his left asks immediately, whipping back around to the bar with a grin. He doesn't look too disappointed to be stuck on babysitting duty now.

Kael's eyes lift to hers. "Wherever my wife wants to go."

Her stomach drops.

"Oh!" Samara sashays back into the main living area with an excited beam, her robe leaving a trail behind her, perfect fingers still holding the glass. "That is splendid, I can start damage control  on Catalina's wardrobe today!"

Damage control? I mean, she's not exactly her or Merlot, but—

"Don't take it personally, blondie, she thinks everyone else's fashion is beneath her," Chuck assures her with a wink.

"Samara, behave," Kael barks, just before the doors close.

She rolls her eyes, and then she returns her attention to Catalina, blinking at her with a smile. "What are you doing?" she asks sweetly.

Catalina stares blankly at her. "Uh..."

"Go change! We have a lot of shops to hit today, sweetie, so chop chop."

Chuck leans over to whisper, "Don't argue. We don't."

Alright, then. It seems like Samara also gets her way around here.

Twenty minutes later and Catalina finds herself walking through high-priced designer shops around Brae, Pont-Ciel's upscale, modern district. But even with Kael's card in her bag (she's not sure when he did that, really), she's not actually going to anything or blow his zeroes.

Samara obviously knows her way around, she's probably been in the inside of these stores more times necessary in a lifetime. What Catalina learns is that the woman has no concept of personal space, linking arms with her and dragging her along with excited chatter and throwing clothes in her arms. She talks about how she met this designer and that designer, about this fabric and that, about how each clothing piece complements her skin color and hair or makes her face look dull and her ass flat when she comes out of the dressing room. Catalina feels winded and exhausted around this woman, and it hasn't been two hours yet.

Understandably, however, Samara has an impeccable taste in fashion. Expensive—but she has a great eye and sense of style.

The Kincaid informant is a force of energy that Catalina has to get used to, but when she throws all of the approved clothes on the counter and Catalina's eyes almost bulge out of their sockets, she touches her shoulder and sputters, "Samara, I—those are too much."

Samara merely blinks at Catalina, tilting her head to the side. "What do you mean?"

Behind them, Chuck snickers. He's been following the two women around, walking closely beside them or a few steps back. He has his shades on and his hands are in his pockets, jacket thrown on, but even with his casual get-up, Catalina knows the man can shoot in point two seconds flat if they were in danger.

Earlier, while Samara was looking through racks, Catalina whispered to him, "I'm sorry you got stuck here instead of taking off with Merlot."

"You kidding?" Chuck's eyebrows rose. "Between her bitchfest and this, I'd take this anytime."

It made her grin. "I'm glad you think babysitting has its perks despite the demotion."

"Blondie." He swung an arm over her shoulder. "Kael is trusting me with his number one priority—you. That's fuckin' far from a demotion."

Though she would never admit it, his words made her chest swell.

And Chuck is the only one they can see, but she's sure some of Kael's other people are watching and protecting them.

Their people, damn it.

"Kael just lost two million," Catalina whispers, still shaking her head and trying to take back the blouses and skirts from the counter, but Samara keeps pulling them out of her hands. She gestures for the saleslady to continue scanning the barcodes. "I'm not comfortable spending a lot of his money!"

It's more than a lot. It's making her palpitate.

She has money, she grew up on money, but damn it! The total amount of what they're paying for probably costs more than her whole life.

"Oh, please." Samara makes a dismissive gesture and examines her nails. "Two million's nothing."

Nothing?!

"And I spend Polo's money all the time and he doesn't give a shit. Kael won't, either! In fact, he'll be so happy. He mentioned that your shopping trip before was...discontinued, so he'll be ecstatic that I took matters into my own hands."

Wait, what? Polo?

"Yeah, you finally found time for us plebeians," Chuck retorts. Samara ignores him. "You should buy all of them, blondie. You looked good in every single one."

Catalina feels like she's missing an important puzzle piece here. Her eyebrows furrow. "Wait, what does Polo have to do with this?"

Samara giggles and leans close to whisper to her, "I'm his master."

Catalina blinks. She's sure there's some kind of sexual innuendo in there because Chuck howls.

"You're...together," she says slowly. Asks.

Samara shrugs carelessly, motioning for the attendant nearest to them for her refilled glass of wine. "Eh."

Eh?!

The attendant looks at Catalina. "Anything I can get you now, Ma'am?"

Everyone has been asking the same damn thing since they walked into Brae—fuck it. Why not. "You guys have mimosas?"

She nods quickly.

"One, please." Catalina smiles, not sure how a fashion boutique has a bar in its storage room. She turns back to Samara, who's still smiling sweetly and innocently at her. "If you have...something with Polo, what about Kael?"

"What about my dear?"

"That," she snaps irritably.

"Oh, babes." Samara puts down her glass. She takes her hand and sighs, looking at her with a solemn and pitiful expression. "I would rather French kiss a skunk than touch my stepson. Not that I ever would, that's disgusting."

*

Catalina opens her eyes slowly, jolting awake when Kael's cologne and aftershave mixed with the rusty tang of blood hits her nose. "Kael?" she croaks groggily.

Lunch gave Samara more energy for another round of shopping that now fills their walk-in closet with a dozen or so paper bags. They headed home, and after dinner, two movies, and a shower, Catalina fell asleep on the couch under a blanket with Chuck's and Samara's voices floating in the background.

Kael doesn't say anything as he lifts her up and carries her to the stairs quietly. She squints her eyes against the darkness, only seeing a shadow of Kael's face. Catalina also notices the penthouse is too quiet now in her sleepy haze. Where are Samara and Chuck? Jae and Polo?

His breathing is controlled and even, his steps measured and light. Catalina's heart picks up its pace in worry? Anxiousness? When Kael sets her wordlessly on their bed and stands at the foot of it.

Catalina sits up. "Kael, you're—" She almost says 'scaring'. "You're worrying me. Where are the others?"

Kael unbuttons his shirt, dark eyes on her. She swallows thickly when his hands go to his belt and he unbuckles it impatiently, tossing it on the floor. He steps out of his clothes, standing in boxer briefs, and then the mattress dips under his weight. He puts his gun on the side of his bed.

Catalina can hear her pulse as he crawls over to her, and then with his rough hands on her waist, he rolls onto his back and lifts her on top of him, yanking her shirt up over her head.

She can't find it in her voice to argue, fighting the urge to cover up when he tosses the shirt on the floor carelessly, eyes roaming her skin and body as she straddles his stomach. Catalina's own searches his face and body for the blood she smelled earlier, but aside from the exhaustion in the hard set of his features and the slightly disheveled hair, Catalina can't find anything to worry about.

"I've had a shit day, Catalina," Kael begins in a low tone, making the hairs at the back of her neck stand up as his hands circle around her stomach, fingertips grazing her. And then they move lower, to the waistband of her shorts, tugging it down. Catalina inhales sharply and grips his wrist.

He looks in her eyes. "So make it better."

Catalina's pulse rings in her ears with what he's asking.

"I hope you don't look that terrified when I actually fuck you," Kael says dryly. "Just lift your hips so I can take off the damn shorts, I need to feel you."

She bites her lip as Kael pulls the shorts down and tosses it on the floor. Then he wraps his arms around her and presses her to him, face on her neck, hands stroking her back. He inhales deeply.

One of her hands holds onto his shoulder, pressing hard to relax his muscles, and her other goes to his hair, caressing the strands through the scalp. Kael groans under his breath and exhales shakily at her touch, making her mouth tilt to the side despite the shivers from his breath on her skin.

Her fingers dance over his collarbone and neck, and they stop when they feel a ridge just over his throat. Without being able to see it, Catalina traces the scar slowly, eyebrows drawing together at how long the line is.

"Polo did that to me," Kael rasps, his breath fanning her chest.

Catalina's hands stop. "What?"

"He held a knife to my throat when Samara was gone for two days," he explains quietly, hands brushing her spine. "He's an excellent right—conversational prowess, skills, loyalty. But to him, if there's a zero point one percent chance Samara's life is in danger, she overrules any priority."

She's surprised Polo is still breathing for what he did.

Catalina purses her lips, dropping her hands on his shoulders. "You think she makes him weak."

Kael doesn't disagree. "She's a liability, but she's useful. While with the Third, she studied volumes and volumes of headshots of all persons of interest to the Kincaids. I need that."

Catalina sucks in a shaky breath and digs her nails on his shoulders when his lips begin kissing her collarbone. "You didn't tell me she's your stepmom," Catalina breathes.

"She divulges that information only when necessary," Kael says quietly, hands lowering to her behind. "And she found it necessary when you assumed we fuck. Disgusting, by the way."

"You can't blame me," Catalina snaps, face heating from embarrassment. She slaps his hand when his fingers trace below her underwear. Kael raises his head and scowls at her, irritated. Then, quietly, she asks, "How was I supposed to know that?"

He brushes her hair away from her face. "Polo is a dead giveaway."

"I don't look at Polo."

"Stay that way. And Sue? Think I'm attracted to senior citizens?"

Damn him. Catalina slaps his shoulder.

He scoffs lightly, shaking his head.

That gives her hope that she's wrong about Merlot, but that's more possible based on their interactions and the captain's looks. Still, she won't ask tonight. Catalina's head is still reeling about Samara.

"I...I can't imagine what it must've been like for her."

To be in the Third's mercy. Used by a monster and then married to said monster.

Samara is at least two years younger than Kael. When Catalina fished for more information earlier during lunch, she only said, "I was the Third's whore. And then I did my job so well, he married me in secret. Oh, the three-cheese rigatoni is delicious, sweetie, let's order that!"

It's...God, it's vile and cruel and nauseating.

"She survived him," Kael says simply, staring at her.

A smart survivor. The Third's victim.

She feels something pierce her chest. Gratefulness, that Kael isn't the Third? That he's not as inhumane as his father?

"How did she...how did he find her?" Catalina mumbles. "Has Polo loved her from the start?"

Kael doesn't answer, putting his hands back on her body, resuming his path from her collarbone to the middle of her chest.

Okay. Not his story to share. She purses her lips. "What about your mom?" she whispers.

All she knows of Kael's mother is that she died when the Fourth was ten years old.

He doesn't answer, he doesn't falter with his kisses and touches, but his muscles tense ever so slightly. Catalina lets it go.

She leans forward, arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. "Is what you did today a ghost?"

Something that will haunt her.

Kael nods once, spanning his palms over her back.

Then she doesn't need to know what it is.

Catalina lays her head on his chest and listens to his rapid heartbeat. In her mind, she thinks that this is the first time they sleep holding each other.

*

#ReignTheFourthWP