Leaving Zilverduin was never an easy choice, but it was necessary. Soren knew that Koen could only reach his full potential if he didn’t have to worry about his weird, broken friend.

A sharp ringing pulled Soren from his sleep. He groaned and reached for the phone on the bedside table. The screen read ‘Big B’.

He hesitated for a moment, then answered.

Before he could speak, a deep, gravelly voice came through

“Hey man, change of plans. Boss wants to meet tonight.”

Soren rubbed his eyes. “The meeting was supposed to be this Monday.”

“Yeah, well… you know how Boss is. He wants it done tonight. You don’t have any plans, right?”

Soren clenched his jaw. ‘Yeah, bitch. I fucking do.’

“No,” he replied calmly. “No plans.”

“Good. I’ll text you the location. See you tonight.”

Soren had met ‘Klem de Waard’ two and a half years ago. The man was in his early forties, extremely fit, and always carried an eerie calmness about him. From the moment they met, Soren knew they were alike, both carrying hard pasts. The only difference was that while Soren was still haunted by his demons, de Waard had somehow learned to control his.

‘Fuck…’ Soren thought, staring at the ceiling. ‘The meeting is tonight, then.’

He rubbed his face, feeling a knot form in his stomach.

‘I need to text Koen. Tell him I can’t make it tonight. God… he’s going to hate me so much.’

They hadn’t seen each other in three years, and now Soren was already canceling on their first night back. The guilt tasted bitter. But what choice did he have?

‘You don’t say no to de Waard. No one does.’

After a long, heavy pause, Soren let out a tired sigh and reached for his phone.

Ø

Koen remained slumped in his chair, staring at the city skyline. He didn’t know how long he had been sitting there, replaying the fantasy in his head. He felt disgusted with himself… yet he was rock hard again. ‘What the hell is wrong with me?’

A loud knock on the door jolted him. He quickly hid everything, straightened his suit, and opened the door.

Cornelia stormed in.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Who locks their office in the middle of the day?”

“Yes, please, come in,” Koen said sarcastically.

"Yeah, whatever." She dropped into one of the leather sofas. "I came with good news."

Koen raised an eyebrow. “We got the votes?”

“Most of them said no,” she replied, then smiled that familiar mischievous smile. “But we got Veenendaal.”

Koen’s eyes widened. That was massive.

"Smit said no, but with Veenendaal on board, he looked a little shaken." She walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, turned back. "I think I can bring him around."

Koen didn’t ask how. He knew better.

He was still processing when he heard her voice from behind him, closer than expected.

"Is this Kia's birthday or yours?"

He turned. She was in his chair, fingers hovering over his keyboard.

"Get up. Right now." He crossed the room in a few strides. "You don't sit in my chair."

"You used to sit in Mom's chair all the time," she said, rising slowly.

"That was different. Thank you for the news. You can go."

"So secretive." She was almost laughing. "You watching porn or something?"

"The wooden thing behind you is a door. Use it."

"Alright, alright." She moved toward it, then paused. "Oh—I almost forgot. Amara didn't vote."

The smile again.

"She wants a private meeting with you before she decides. Alone." A beat. "Maybe she needs a personal favor."

"I'm married. So is she."

Cornelia leaned against the doorframe. "You have no idea what women like her do for fun these days."

‘Oh, I know.’ He said nothing.

She burst out laughing. "Just look at your face." She shook her head, still grinning. "You're so innocent."

She was gone.

‘Not that innocent,’ Koen thought darkly.

He picked up his phone and saw a new message from Soren.

Ø

Koen sat in the lounge, staring at the 65-inch LED screen where a live football match played on. The commentators’ voices faded into background noise. His mind was elsewhere, fixed on Soren’s text and the casual rain check. ‘Fuck him. If he doesn’t want to meet, he can go fuck himself. I don’t care.’

He exhaled sharply and made a decision. Tonight, he would take Saskia out to celebrate the small victory with Veenendaal. No stress, no Soren, just the two of them.

He was already fully dressed in a tailored white shirt and navy blue trousers, sitting on the sofa and waiting patiently. Most men grew irritated when their wives took forever to get ready, but not Koen. He actually enjoyed it. The longer Saskia spent getting ready, the more stunning she became. He was the one who got to show her off, 'because I’m the ultimate beneficiary of her beauty. Right?’

The memory from his office flashed back, Saskia on her back, legs spread, moaning… ‘No… No. Not that again. Not right before we go out.'

Koen clenched his jaw and rubbed his temples, trying to push the intrusive thoughts away.

Saskia finally stepped out of the bedroom, and Koen’s breath caught in his throat.

She was wearing a stunning, floor-length black dress that clung to her petite frame like liquid silk. The delicate spaghetti straps accentuated her slender shoulders and graceful neckline, while the dress hugged her small, perky breasts and narrow waist before flowing down over her hips. A daring high slit ran all the way up her left thigh, revealing her smooth, toned leg with every step she took. The fabric was soft and slightly stretchy, moving with her body and subtly outlining her curves in the most enticing way.

She had paired it with strappy, barely-there nude heels that made her legs look even longer.

Her long, silky golden-blonde hair cascaded down her back in soft waves. A touch of smoky eyes and a bold red lip that completed the look. 

Her dress did nothing but stroke his fantasy even further, feeding the dark thoughts he was desperately trying to suppress.

“So, where are we going?” she asked with a bright, beautiful smile.

Koen blinked, momentarily lost in her. “We have a reservation at Aurelius.”

Koen parked his Porsche Panamera in an empty corner of the lot and stepped out to open the passenger door for Saskia. Koen was many things, and a gentleman was one of them. As he helped her out of the car, a black SUV rolled to a stop beside them. ‘Now that’s a beautiful car, Cadillac Escalade-V’.

The first man to step out was easily the tallest person Koen had ever seen. As they found themselves standing side by side, Koen's head barely reached the man's chest. He had to tilt his head back just to see his face.‘That’s a fucking giant’.

The man had to be pushing seven feet tall. Koen was terrible with names, so he often gave people nicknames instead. In his mind, this one immediately became ‘Brick Wall’.

His dark hair was tied back in a ponytail, and a light French beard framed his broad face. The gray suit struggled to conceal a physique built more for a wrestling ring than a boardroom.

A second man emerged from the passenger side, hidden until then by the bulk of the SUV. He was slightly taller than Soren, dressed in a crisp white suit, with a neatly trimmed gray beard and a full head of silver hair. 

He wasn't old by any means. If anything, the gray made him look distinguished. The man clearly understood style. ‘Gray Beard’ Koen decided.

“How that one fit in a car?” Saskia slightly whispered in Koen’s ear.

Only then did Koen realize Saskia had been watching the entire spectacle alongside him.

They shared a quiet laugh and were about to leave when Brick Wall stepped directly into the space between the Porsche and the Cadillac. The giant's broad frame filled the gap, cutting off the only path ahead.

Koen and Saskia exchanged a glance. Suddenly, the space between the two vehicles felt uncomfortably narrow. Without acknowledging them, Brick Wall turned and opened the rear driver's-side door.

Another man stepped out.

He was easily the most striking of the three. Pure black hair styled in a sharp, clean quiff that accentuated his strong features. Koen guessed he was in his early forties. He had a clean-shaven face with a sharp, defined jawline and an undeniable commanding presence. He wore a deep burgundy blazer over a tailored black shirt and matching black trousers. On his wrist gleamed a blacked-out Audemars Piguet Royal Oak, a watch that cost more than most people’s cars.

Koen wasn’t a poor man, but even he could tell this man was wearing serious money. In his head, Koen immediately nicknamed him ‘Bossman’.

Bossman took a deep breath, stretching his arms as he scanned his surroundings. “Ah… the air in Zilverduin,” he said, his voice deep and smooth. His eyes finally landed on Koen and Saskia. Noticing that Brick Wall was blocking their path, he frowned.

“Have you got no sense?” he said to the giant. “You’re blocking the way for this nice couple.”

Brick Wall quickly stepped aside. “Sorry, Boss.”

Bossman turned toward them with a charming, disarming smile and extended his right hand toward Koen, placing his left hand over his chest.

“Please accept my deepest apologies,” he said in a rich, deep voice. “I’m sure he didn’t mean to be rude.”

Koen shook the man’s hand. The grip was firm, almost uncomfortably strong. “No… it’s okay,” he replied, his voice quieter than he intended.

When Bossman released his hand, Koen felt a wave of relief, until the man turned to Saskia and extended his hand toward her. She hesitated for only a split second before offering hers with a genuine smile. Bossman lifted her hand and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss to the back of it, right beside her wedding ring.

A perfectly innocent gesture. Yet it sent an involuntary jolt through Koen's body.

Bossman lingered for a moment, looking directly into Saskia’s eyes. “You are the most gorgeous woman I’ve seen in Zilverduin so far,” he said, his voice low and smooth. The way he delivered the compliment made it sound like simple truth. Saskia’s cheeks flushed a deep red.

“I would love to stay and talk longer,” he continued, still holding her hand, “but I have business to attend to inside. And I hate being late.”

He leaned down and placed a second kiss on her hand, slower and more deliberate than the first. Only then did he release her, straighten his burgundy blazer, and turn away. Without sparing Koen another glance, he walked toward the restaurant with his two companions at his side.

Koen stood motionless, trying to process what had just happened. Saskia’s soft voice pulled him back to reality.

“Can we go inside now?” she asked. She was gripping his arm tightly with both hands.

“Yes… of course,” Koen replied, clearing his throat. He forced a smile and led her toward the restaurant.

Koen scanned the restaurant, searching for their table while still holding Saskia's hand. She was busy on her phone and nearly walked into a man coming the other way.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said quickly.

The man started to reply but froze the moment he looked at her face. He simply stared, momentarily lost for words. Koen didn’t blame him, Saskia had that effect on people. Then the man's gaze shifted to him. And everything stopped.

The face was strangely familiar, yet completely different from the one he remembered. A short, well-groomed boxed beard framed a stronger, more defined jawline. Dark hair fell neatly into a medium-length slicked-back flow, tucked behind his ears. The top three buttons of his black shirt were undone, revealing a toned chest and the edge of a tattoo on his right side. But it was the familiar green eyes that confirmed it.

“Soren.”

This wasn’t the Soren he remembered. The awkward, skinny boy with the shaved head and poor posture was gone. The man standing in front of him now looked like he belonged in this world. He stood tall, easily over six feet with perfect posture and quiet confidence.

“Koen,” Soren replied, his voice calm and steady.

Koen was at a loss for words. ‘What is he doing here?’

"So you two know each other."

The voice came from behind. Koen turned and found Bossman standing a few steps away, his hands tucked casually into his trouser pockets. Brick Wall and Gray Beard stood just behind him, one on either side.

“What a pleasant surprise,” Bossman said, a charming smile spreading across his face. His eyes moved from Koen to Soren, then lingered on Saskia. “The world really is getting smaller.”

He paused for a moment, then added, “How about we all sit together?”

Koen’s mind went blank. Too much was happening too fast. He opened his mouth to object, but Saskia beat him to it.

“Yeah… I think we should,” she said softly.

‘What?!’ Koen’s thoughts screamed. ‘You hated Soren. Now you suddenly want to sit with him? What about our date?’

"I don't think they'll allow that," Soren said. There was the slightest hesitation in his voice.

‘Oh, so now you don't want to sit together? You bloody bastard.’

"Oh, they will, Noir."

The name landed strangely in Koen's ears.

"They'll allow me anything." He adjusted the cuff of his sleeve. "All I have to do is ask nicely."

‘Noir?’

Koen stared at Soren.

‘Who the fuck is Noir now?’

Moments later, they were seated around a large rectangular table. Ever the gentleman, Koen sat directly across from Saskia. To his right sat Gray Beard in his crisp white suit, with the giant, Big B, squeezed awkwardly into the chair beside him. On Saskia’s left was Bossman, and at the far end of the table sat Soren.

"We never formally introduced ourselves," Klem began.

‘Formally?’ Koen resisted the urge to laugh. ‘I don't even know who you are.’

“I am Klem de Waard.”

He gestured toward the gray-haired man beside Koen. "This is Sebastiaan van Graaf. One of my closest friends and business partners.” De Waard glanced at Koen before continuing. “On his right is Big B.”

The giant gave an awkward nod, clearly uncomfortable in the elegant chair.

Then de Waard rested a hand on Soren's shoulder. "And this one, I believe you already know."

Koen glanced at Soren.

‘No. I don't think I do.’

"I'm Koen Jensen," he said. "And this is my beautiful wife, Saskia."

"A pleasure."

He took a sip of water before studying Koen over the rim of his glass.

"You know, your name sounds familiar," de Waard said. "What do you do for a living?"

‘I'm the CEO…No…Be modest.’

"I work at WelTech."

"Of course.” De Waard’s smile widened.

"That's where I know you from." He took another sip. “You’re a CEO of WelTech."

Koen blinked, surprised. “How do you know that?”

"Just this morning, our company decided to invest in one of your projects," Klem said. "Future's Call."

He smiled." That's the name we've given it." After a brief pause, he added, "I'm the Finance Director at Toekomst."

‘So you work for Veenendaal.'

‘The world really was getting smaller.’ The puzzle piece clicked into place, but it only raised more questions. ‘The project hadn’t even been officially approved yet how could they already be naming it? And why did de Waard speak as if the deal was already done?’ Koen wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, ‘weird coincidence.'

He considered asking another question but instead, he remained silent. ‘Sometimes you learned more by listening.’

The group placed their orders, and the conversation flowed easily. Sebastiaan van Graaf dominated most of the discussion, mostly sharing colorful stories about de Waard’s past exploits. De Waard occasionally added a dry comment or quiet laugh, while the others occasionally directed questions toward Koen. He answered them as calmly and professionally as he could, though his mind was elsewhere.

Throughout the entire meal, de Waard never once looked at Saskia.

Yet Saskia kept stealing glances at him. Koen noticed every single one. A sharp pang of jealousy twisted in his chest. Fantasy was one thing, but the thought of anything actually happening between them felt like a knife twisting in his stomach.

Then he saw it.

De Waard’s right hand disappeared under the table more than once. In Koen’s filthy, racing mind, he pictured his fingers sliding up Saskia’s thigh, slipping beneath the high slit of her dress, and teasing her pussy right there at the table. Nothing was actually happening, of course… but the mere thought was enough to make him painfully hard while simultaneously making dinner feel like absolute hell.

Eventually, Saskia excused herself to use the restroom.

Koen stood up almost immediately and followed her. He needed to check on her. Tonight felt completely out of control, and he was desperate to regain some sense of normalcy.

He caught up to Saskia just as she reached the restroom door. "Hey," he said softly. "Are you feeling okay?"

She looked up and smiled. "Yes, of course. What about you?" There was a slight slur to her words. Tipsy. At least a little.

Koen chose not to mention it. "Yeah, I'm good too. I just wanted to check on you." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "You should go inside. I'll head back to the table and wait for you."

Saskia nodded before disappearing through the door.

When Koen reached the table he heard the ongoing conversation, Soren’s voice.

It was the first time all evening that Koen had heard more than a few words from him.

"She isn't part of this, you know."

Koen stopped. ‘Who isn't? Part of what?’

For a brief moment, nobody answered.

Then de Waard spoke. "You know how we operate, Noir." His voice was calm. Measured.

After a short pause, he added, "And as you understand, there is only one rule."

Koen frowned. ‘What rule?’ He waited for someone to continue. For an explanation. For anything. Nothing came.

The conversation died instantly. Silence settled over the table.

After another few seconds, Koen gave up waiting and returned to his seat. Whatever they were talking about, they clearly had no intention of discussing it in front of him.

More and more people drifted toward the dance floor as the band began another song. At the table, Sebastiaan was in the middle of a story about a football match from his college days, animatedly reenacting a tackle that had everyone laughing. Koen barely heard a word of it. Koen knew how much Saskia loved dancing, Under normal circumstances, he would have already asked her to join him on the dance floor. Tonight, however, nothing felt normal.

He felt intoxicated despite not having touched a single drop of alcohol. As the designated driver, he had spent the entire evening sober, yet his thoughts felt hopelessly clouded.

That’s when de Waard finally turned his full attention to Saskia.

“Can I trouble you for a dance, my lady?” The words cut through the conversation. "This happens to be my favorite song.”

It was the first time all evening he had looked directly at her. De Waard stood and extended his hand toward Saskia, palm up, waiting.

Saskia glanced at Koen for a brief moment, as if seeking permission. But Koen couldn’t find his voice. Before he could react, Saskia placed her hand in de Waard’s with only a slight hesitation.

Koen watched his wife dance with a man he had met less than two hours ago. Saskia loved dancing. He had seen her dance a thousand times. He had watched her dance with friends, colleagues, even complete strangers at weddings and parties. He had never been an insecure husband. Saskia was beautiful, and beautiful women were asked to dance. Normally, he enjoyed watching her. Tonight felt different. Perhaps it was because de Waard had never asked for his permission. ‘Yes, I understand it’s not the 18th century anymore; women don’t need permission from their husbands before dancing’. Still, a small part of him felt that a gentleman would have acknowledged the husband first.

But that wasn't what bothered him most. What bothered him was Saskia. She usually hesitated before accepting a dance. More often than not, she politely declined. Tonight, she hadn't. 

As one song faded into another, neither of them returned to the table. ‘I thought the previous one was your favorite.’

There was no denying it; de Waard knew how to dance. He moved with an effortless confidence that made it seem as though he'd spent half his life on a ballroom floor. 

As the song changed to a slower, more sensual track, de Waard pulled Saskia closer. His right hand rested possessively on her lower back, just beneath her long golden-blonde hair, while his left held her hand. Even in her three-inch heels, he still towered over her. Their faces were dangerously close. Koen felt that familiar sick twist in his stomach, jealousy mixed with a dark, unwanted thrill.

‘He’s holding her way too close.’ De Waard leaned in and whispered something in her ear. Saskia’s expression shifted. For a moment, Koen thought she looked surprised. ‘Did that fucker say something offensive?’

But she didn’t look angry. She replied softly, her lips clearly forming the words, “Thank you.”

De Waard whispered again. This time Saskia smiled faintly and gave a small nod. Then he said something else, no longer whispering, staring straight into her eyes. 

Koen couldn’t hear her response. But he saw de Waard’s hand slowly slide lower… down her back… until it boldly cupped her ass.

Koen’s heart slammed in his chest. Shock, rage, humiliation, and a sick, throbbing arousal flooded through him all at once. His mind spun wildly. ‘Should I do something? Go over there?’

He imagined storming onto the dance floor. ‘three against one. Or maybe three against two if Soren helped him like the old days. Would he? But looking at Big B… Soren was good at fighting but that was a fight Koen knew he’d lose.

‘Wait… Saskia isn’t stopping him.’ She hadn’t pushed his hand away. In fact, they were now dancing cheek to cheek, bodies pressed tightly together. Koen’s breathing grew heavier, his pulse pounding in his ears. ‘Why isn’t she removing his hand? What the hell is it about this man that’s making my wife act like this?’

Koen sat there having the worst internal argument of his life, while the rest of the table acted as if nothing unusual was happening. ‘Like your boss isn’t groping my wife’s ass right in front of the whole fucking restaurant’ van Graaf was still talking animatedly to Big B, who nodded along like he understood every word. Soren, meanwhile, quietly ate his lamb broth, completely unbothered.

Koen’s mind kept racing, should he stand up and intervene? Or trust Saskia to handle it? Any rash move could cost WelTech their biggest potential investor. Before he could decide, the song ended. De Waard and Saskia walked back to the table… still holding hands.

Koen was painfully hard. He had been fighting his arousal all night, but lust was quickly overpowering everything else. He stood up abruptly and walked toward them.

“I think we should leave,” he said, his voice tighter than he intended.

Saskia’s cheeks were still flushed a deep, obvious red, visible to everyone at the table.

“I should tell you, boy,” de Waard said, still holding Saskia’s hand, “your wife is a wonderful dancer.”

Saskia kept her gaze fixed on the floor, unable to meet Koen’s eyes. “Yes… I think we should leave,” she said softly.

De Waard looked at Saskia, then at Koen, then back to her again. With a calm smile, he reached into his wallet, pulled out a card, and handed it to her. “You’ll be needing this.”

Saskia took it absently. Koen was already moving to escort her away when she frowned slightly. “There’s nothing on it,” she said, confused, turning the card over in her hands.

Koen took it from her. It was a sleek, completely blank black card, matte on both sides.

De Waard gave a low, knowing chuckle. “Don’t worry, girl,” he said, his voice smooth and intimate. “It won’t be black when you’re ready to call.”

‘What the fuck?’

The drive home was pure torture for Koen. His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white, while a storm of emotions raged inside him. Saskia sat silently in the passenger seat, staring out the window the entire ride. She didn’t look at him once. They needed to talk. But that conversation could wait.

The moment they stepped inside the house and the door closed behind them, Koen lost control. He grabbed Saskia and pulled her into a fierce, hungry kiss. She gasped in surprise at first, but quickly melted against him, returning the kiss with equal heat. Koen’s mind was a mess. This wasn’t how the night was supposed to end, not after another man had openly groped his wife on the dance floor in front of him. Yet here he was, devouring her mouth like a man possessed.

They stumbled into the house in a heated frenzy, hands fumbling with clothes as their mouths crashed together. Koen’s tongue danced desperately with hers, tasting the sweet wine she’d had earlier. He tugged at her dress, but Saskia pushed his hands away and peeled it off herself in one fluid motion.

Underneath, she wore only a black strapless bra. Her small, perky breasts looked perfect in the dim light. Koen quickly stripped off his own shirt and trousers, and they fell onto the couch in a tangle of limbs, kissing hungrily.

He kissed his way down her body, along her jaw, down her neck where she was most sensitive, then lower. He unclasped her bra and tossed it aside, taking his time to worship her breasts. He sucked on one stiff nipple, then the other, knowing exactly how she liked it. Saskia moaned softly, arching into his mouth.

Koen continued downward, kissing her flat stomach until he settled between her legs. When he looked up, he was shocked, she wasn’t wearing any panties.

“Where are your panties, love?” he asked, voice thick with lust. Saskia was soaking wet. Dripping.

“Shh, babe…” she whispered, grabbing the back of his head with surprising force and pulling him into her. “Please go down on me… Yes, baby, lick me. Yes, please.”

She was never the forceful type, but tonight her voice carried a desperate, burning hunger. Koen could hear it clearly, she was on fire.

Without another thought, he shoved his face between her legs.

Saskia gasped sharply as his tongue made contact with her soaked pussy. She was absolutely dripping.

Tomorrow, they would definitely be having a very long conversation.