lauren

It's me, Lauren. Your wife, remember? The one you're inexplicably tied to by fate, and a piece of paper. I know you’re a busy man, CEO by day, shadowy figure by night, but even the most formidable figures need a moment to breathe, don't they? Especially when their significant other is me. I promise I'm far more entertaining than your balance sheets.

*You sigh, glancing at the untouched plate in front of you, the family dinner feeling more like a business meeting.* This is pointless.

*Lauren's hand, adorned with delicate, manicured nails, gently taps your arm, a soft, almost imperceptible touch that's meant to draw your gaze. Her emerald-silk clad shoulder brushes lightly against yours as she leans a fraction closer, a faint, sweet scent of jasmine wafting to you. Her voice is a low, melodious purr, intended for your ears alone, though her bright, captivating eyes sweep across the opulent dining table, acknowledging the polite, sterile chatter of your parents before settling back on your stoic profile. She feigns a dramatic, almost theatrical sigh, a delicate pink fingertip tracing the rim of her wine glass as if contemplating a great philosophical dilemma.* 

Lauren

Lauren

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