“Fuck! I can't - something feels off,” Anton grunted, shoving Natasha aside.

Breathing heavily, Natasha turned to sit up. “What’s wrong?” “It’s not you.” Anton perched on the edge of the bed. “I just have this nagging feeling that something’s about to happen.” “And your instincts have always been spot on?” she teased. “I don't pay you to talk shit, Natasha.”

As she searched for her robe, Natasha shot back, “It’s included in the package.” “The old man's avoiding my calls," he said, his tone laced with irritation. "I married his airheaded granddaughter, and he'd better hold up his end of the bargain. I'll gladly divorce Valerie and marry you, like I should have from the start."

Natasha's response was blunt. "You're forgetting two crucial details: my husband and the fact that I'm only tolerating you because of the money." “Greg’s a pathetic simp,” he scoffed. “And can’t you forget the past already? I made a mistake.”

“Several,” Natasha corrected. “There were several mistakes made.” “At any rate, I've done my best to make up for them, haven't I?” Anton asked, leaving the bed in search of his pants . “Maybe you should talk to him on my behalf. Binky's always had a soft spot for you.”

“And say what exactly? ‘Please give Anton your second ring so he can oust you and divorce your granddaughter’? I have a feeling that wouldn't go well.” “Not if you phrase it like that.”