The look Micheal gives me next tells me that this is wrong. Wrong time and definitely the wrong question to ask him.
So I switch what's on my mind.
"When are we going on the honeymoon?" I decide to ask.
"Already?"
"It's almost three weeks since we got married. Normal couples should be having the time of their lives in some la la land."
He waves my words off. "But we aren't some normal boring couple."
I have no clue of what I want to achieve with pestering him with this honeymoon. I only know that's what wives usually bother their husbands with. And I want to act like a normal wife.
"So you're saying no honeymoon?" I pout cutely at him.
"I'm saying not yet. I still have other deals to close."
"Not when you're the boss. You can outsource whatever it is to your employees, and we could go have the time of our lives."
He laughs awkwardly, mutters, "If only I'm the boss," before entering the bathroom.
If only I'm the boss.
The sentence sinks into my head. I slump on the bed, awestruck.
What does this really mean? Does it have to do with the drug business? Does it mean there is someone stronger than him?
Once he comes out of the bathroom, I ask him, "You have a boss?"
"What?"
"You have someone you work for?"
He thinks about it before answering me with, "Everyone has someone they work for."
"But I thought you own Bavarish Brand?"
"I do, but…" he trails off while tucking himself into the duvet, "Enough of the questions. Let's sleep Samantha."
My heart slams against my chest as I drive towards the coffee shop where George texts me to meet him. I try not to think about what he wants to talk about. But still being restless about it, I decide to listen to my favourite songs.
'Take me back' by The Weekend is the first song my playlist shuffles to. I sing along with Abel's soulful voice.
"I've been manipulated a hundred times but none of them felt so soft and kind…"
By the time I get to my location, the strong knot tied in my chest has subsidized. I climb down from the range rover and embrace the late summer warmth.
George stands to hug me when I get to the table. Shivers run down my spine as his familiar scent of sandalwood fills my nostrils.
"How are you babe?"
"I'm good."
After placing our orders, he starts by telling me that Natasha has finally moved out of the apartment.
I let out a deep sigh of relief on hearing that. At least one part of my problem is gone. This is one of the good news my ears have been tickling to hear.
George brings out his phone, "I need to show you something."
A cute baby socks pops on his screen, "Cute, right?"
My eyes swell with tears of joy on seeing the excitement dancing in his eyes.
"What should we name him?"
"Or her."
"Yeah, sure. Her. Have you picked out a name yet?"
"Not really."
While driving home, it isn't George's excited chit chats that lingers in my mind. But what Micheal said the previous night about having a boss.
If it really means what I think it means, then it might be that we've been targeting the wrong person all along. And if this speculation is correct, then it also means we've been heading in the wrong direction.
I switch lanes and head towards the office.
I wave at some of my colleagues as I walk past their cubicles.
"Officer Darlington, any special update?"
"Yes. I need to brief the team on the latest development."
Every important officer connected to the case gathers in the conference room five minutes later.
"I think we've been chasing after the wrong target." I say to them.
"What makes you think so?"
"Michael. He said something about having a boss last night."
I play the recording on further questioning.
"This is some bullshit Sarah!" Dave yells.
The team begins dismissing. While Dave glares back at me with a red face.
"Does this assignment look like a joke to you, huh?"
"Of course not sir!"
"So why are you trying to ridicule us?"
"I'm serious about this. My instinct tell me that —"
"Fuck you and your motherfuckimg instinct! Fuck y'all!"
"How do you expect me to get this done if you wouldn't even hear me out? Or trust me to act my part right?"
He spins towards me and grabs me by the neck.
"Wh-whaat are you doing?"
He tightens his hold, almost choking the air off my lungs.
"Listen to me you stupid bitch. Don't forget this is your last chance. If you fuck it up, you'll find your ass in jail before you blink twice."
I try so hard not to think about all the emotional roller coaster I've been through just because of this case as I drive into the mansion. And the one that awaits me in the future. Giving up is also not an option. I signed up for this when I took the oath.
My memory suddenly flashes back to the day I got my acceptance letter into the academy. How excited I've been about going into the FBI. Even when I started this case a month ago, my joy had known no bounds. But now? Even hell is more comfortable than what I'm currently going through.
I opened the front door and was greeted by the aroma of mashed potatoes. I inhale the scent, filling my nostrils and lungs with it.
"Aunty Sarah!"
"Peter? Paul?"
My mom comes out of the kitchen with a huge smile on her face. Her skin looking all tanned up.
"Look who's looking ravishing." I tease her.
"Yeah yeah. All thanks to Micheal's kind gesture. Thank you once again son."
Michael walks out behind her, "You're most welcome."
"Aunt Sarah, do I have a tan too?" Peter asks me.
"You mean Samantha, boy."
"No. It's Sarah. My aunt's name is Sarah."
Micheal's eyes narrow with suspicion. He turns to face my mom.
I try to give my mom a sign, but Michael moves faster, "What's your daughter's name? Samantha Wilson? Or Sarah?"