He wasn’t a fool, he knew something was up with his Prime Mover. She was refusing to let him bed her, something that the Cardinals had urged them to do to secure an heir as soon as possible.

She was refusing his touch, refusing to do anything with him. As if he were some unimportant sibling of sin or a mere follower.. He was the papa!

Two fingers to his left temple, he did not care for the fact that he was smudging white and black makeup over his fingers. A headache was throbbing in his head, a half-drunk glass of whiskey in his other hand.

He could’ve used the assistance of his Prime Mover right now. She was skilled..in many ways. Knew exactly how to bring a man down from a migraine. Yet, she was nowhere to be seen.

He took a sip of his whiskey, allowing the strong taste to overwhelm him as he slowly swallowed it down, feeling the burn in his throat as he tilted his head back. “Such idiocy. She shall not deny me again..”

He was not forceful, satanas no, but he was just a man. A man who happened to love his Prime Mover..incredibly so.

Being away from her for mere seconds were a chore. Thankfully, his suffering was past him when the door slid open and then shut neatly again. He recognized those footsteps anywhere.. And he was out of the chair in seconds. They needed to have a little..chat.