Two weeks pass by with normal operations for the Kincaid family, but Kael and Catalina's sexual activities don't let up.

Kael wakes up ready to conquer the world. He likes starting that domination with Catalina.

Both their sex drives find them in the mornings, at night, in the middle of the day, in the shower, on their bed, on the couch, in the car, and in his home office.

Sometimes it's raw, primal, sheet-clawing fucking. Other times it's slow and heart-wrecking. Most of the time, it's both. But always, it's more than they can bear...and she loves it. When Kael's hips ground against hers, thrusting in a powerful rhythm, he almost seems to say, "Feel me? I'm in you. So fucking deep. I own you, too."

Her husband is right—it's liberating not having to protect herself and her heart. Catalina has given him everything. And he's given her everything in return. As much as he can, anyway.

There's this insatiable need in both of them to keep proving it. Just this morning, he watched her fuck herself on him through their ceiling mirror, urging her hips to ride and bounce on his cock while she dug her nails into his shoulder. He hissed in her ear, while she chased her orgasm, "Rub your clit on me. Yeah, that's it, baby. I feel you getting ready to cum. Your cunt gets so hot and tight around me, so greedy."

When he's not whispering dirty words in her ear, he's lost in his own sex-crazed thoughts, mumbling, "You're so perfect. You're beautiful. You own me. I'm yours forever, Catalina..."

With Kael so freely...affectionate, Catalina has learned to pick up the quick switches between Kael, her husband, to Kael, the Fourth. He always keeps his phone on him, always charged and never off. And because he doesn't work a normal nine-to-five, it's constantly buzzing. As much as he doesn't try to pick up when he's with her, he's now always with her—coming home earlier, staying in on the weekends, soaking in the tub, cooking dinner together, leaving a little late to work because he joined Catalina in the shower.

When Kael can't control the separation of his personal and professional life...well, it's not a surprise to say he's very good at multitasking.

Kael answered a call while inside her, sticking his fingers in her mouth, snapping to the speaker very quietly and deadly, "You're keeping me away from something imperative. It's very...sensitive—time-sensitive. We'll revisit next week." It was the hottest thing he did—sound controlled and calm when he was anything but. As soon as the call ended, he tossed it aside and sped up his thrusts, breathless and gasping and grunting.

There was also a time his inner circle was downstairs and Kael had to cover Catalina's mouth, her moans muffled by his hand. It was one of the strongest and most intense orgasms they've both had.

But Kael has an empire to rule. A lot of people need Kael. For money, for power, for decisions, for something.

Samara certainly doesn't care about her stepson's marital affairs when she needs him.

But he needs her, and he's trying to keep the world between themselves in the small instances that they have them:

Like going out to buy a new miniature dollhouse, and he said, "This is a regular thing, huh? Making your boyfriend buy you shit."

One time, Preston accompanied her when she bought the hotel miniature. Catalina did not see that hotel on Kael's shelves in his office.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. That was ages ago."

"I don't give a shit. I smashed that fucking hotel to pieces and burned the receptionist and bellboy alive with those fucking smiles on their faces."

Catalina tried not to laugh, because he sounded serious. In fact, she believed he did exactly what he said he did. She walked away, smiling, and said, "Kael, you're the most jealous man I know."

He followed her, saying, "Why the fuck do you know other men?"

Like shopping together online for home appliances—new pillowcases, rugs, towels, and bowls—and not agreeing with Catalina's choices but conceding anyway with a scowl. Like relaxing, closing his eyes, and allowing her to shave his beard and give him a haircut when he couldn't event trust another woman before not to strangle him or hurt him with a weapon in her hand.

Like driving to pick up Jae, turning his head to kiss her forehead, and she told him, after another phone call with her sister while she gushed about this new boyfriend of hers, "I want Frankie to visit when it's safe. I haven't seen her since the wedding. And I don't want to look at my disgusting father."

He nodded once, easily. "Alright. I'll arrange it. Have a team pick her up with Chuck and Jae."

Catalina wanted to argue, but then remembered who she was married to and agreed. "Thank you."

He caught her hand and kissed her finger with his ring on it. "How is she?"

Catalina smiled, soft and fond. "She's good. Busy with school. And she's seeing someone." A small laugh slipped out. With gratitude, she tells Kael, "It's nice—she gets to experience normal things. And she sounds happy."

Kael's mouth curved. "Let's keep it that way."

Like staying in on a Sunday night with Jae for some wings, sweet wine, a bit of singing with the younger Kincaid playing the guitar, and crap reality TV, and Catalina relishes the moments where she sees her husband beyond a ruler and beyond her lover. Kael is a controlled man, the picture of the San Helena mafia. That he could be a father or a brother, a thirty-two-year-old man enjoying takeout and television...it was rare to see.

Like sleeping on her lap after a hard day, hugging in the elevator, stroking her hair until she falls asleep. Kissing her whatever chance he got, like he wanted to steal the breath from her lungs. Watching her surgeries, talking at night, soothing Jae's night terrors together, calling her when she texted: Are you busy?

He said, "What is it, wife?"

She stammered, "Um, nothing. Are you alone?"

Calmly, he answered, "No, there are six people with me. What is it?"

She flushed. "Nothing."

Catalina swore she heard the smile behind his voice when he said, "Understood. Polo, take over my agenda."

And then going home early to take her out to dinner. Catalina said, "I want some Nando's."

He hummed.

Catalina emphasized, "The food, not the company."

It was one of the few times Kael laughed. It stopped her heart.

He glanced at her then, still grinning, and her insides turn over. For once, Kael looked his age, young and normal with no blood on his hands. At that moment, they were just a regular husband and wife going out to dinner—sweet and ordinary and uncomplicated.

But they weren't. In this world, Kael is king.

She is queen.

So when he leaves her alone wrapped in their sex-rumpled bedsheets, she whispers, "Come back soon."

And he promises, "Always."

Until he fulfills it, fear has become a familiar and unwelcome friend.

*

"Lea Gates, twenty, end-stage heart failure due to dilated cardiomyopathy. Five months on the transplant list until today."

The patient grins widely. "Yes!"

Catalina smiles back. "The donor's heart is being evaluated right now, and if all goes well, we'll be taking Lea up soon."

"Doctor." The mother comes close and takes her hands, worry in her eyes. "Do you think...the heart...they tell us not to get our hopes up, but—"

"I've seen the report, Mrs. Gates," Catalina says gently. "And I have a very good feeling."

They leave the family hugging each other, and Catalina skips across the hallway, happy, with her hands inside her coat pockets and her ponytail swinging. "Who's next, Dasher?"

She blinks, tearing her gaze away from Fields. "Sorry?"

"Next," Catalina prompts.

"Uh, Annie Darcy, age nine, suffering from secondary pulmonary hypertension due to a V.S.D..."

Doing rounds with a handsome and big man in a white coat disguised as a resident following her is as inconvenient as she thought, but Catalina finds that ignoring him—or trying to—is the best way to go about this. He doesn't look scary, doesn't look like he's armed at all, but Catalina knows better.

And Soren knows better. They haven't spoken a word to each other since the MacQuoid attack.

After a particularly hard surgery, Catalina enters the lounge, rolling her neck, where Dani collides with her almost painfully, cheering, "Welcome back!" She hands her a cup of coffee. "This silly little drink should equip you to face the unrelenting and unendurable horror of existence."

Catalina laughs and sits down. "Thank you, I needed this."

"That was crazy," Teddy mutters, hugging her. "Such a good fucking thing Soren was there."

Catalina manages a small smile, remembering their conversation while he was suturing her stab wound. "Yeah. It was a really, really good thing."

"I've never seen dicknipple that frantic while treating an emergency case," Dani comments, shoving a spoonful of oatmeal in her mouth. "So don't believe the shit that comes out of his mouth, he likes you."

Or was just afraid of Kael if he lost her. "And it only took me getting stabbed for him to show it."

"Hey, Cata. Glad you're back," Reece says, entering the lounge with a charming smile. He gives her a high-five and plops down on the bed. "Should I be worried about that big resident of yours?"

"Oh, my husband is paranoid," Catalina answers with unease, laughing it off. "He needs someone to watch over me."

Dani whistles. "Powerful people tend to be more irrationally anxious and suspicious. And with what happened to you, can't blame him."

She can't really explain why Fields is only on her service, or why he's guarding the door outside. This was the only plausible reason.

Earlier today, she shot a text to her husband: How's the business?

Kael replied in less than a minute. A pain in the ass. How's Fields?

Catalina responded: A pain in the ass.

Good.

She could only roll her eyes, but in truth, it's hard not to be appreciative—even if Fields is a pain in the ass.

This morning, while they were getting ready, Catalina asked him, "Are you scared?"

Kael didn't answer. Instead, he said, "Cooperate. Fields is stronger than Chuck and Jae. His training is more extensive than Merlot's. He's not like Trent, he's not going to listen to any of your shit. I made sure of it."

Catalina turned to him, frowning. "Kael, what did you do?"

Her husband looked into her eyes and answered simply, "Insurance."

He didn't offer anything more.

Catalina closed her eyes. Kael had something—or someone—on Fields.

"His life is worthless if a single strand on your hair is harmed," Kael continued in that gruff yet quiet voice of his. "He understands this."

She didn't take Kael's words lightly.

He massacred an entire family line. Slaughtered them—because she almost died.

Catalina doesn't know what would've happened if the cut made it two millimeters deeper. She doesn't want to know.

Teddy shakes her out of her thoughts and leans in with stars in her eyes. "Why are all the people that work for your husband hot? Can I work there? I'll leave medicine behind."

"Do you not think of anything else?" Reece comments irritably. "You reek of desperation."

"Some people must have been conceived through anal sex," Teddy retorts loudly in return. "There's no way being this much of an asshole is natural."

Reece stands up with a frustrated sigh. "Fucking hell, I'm so sick and tired of fighting with you. Can't we just forgive and forget."

"I'm neither Jesus nor do I have fucking Alzheimer's—"

"Jesus made the middle finger specifically for you—"

"Valenshit, your eyes are the only balls you have—"

Oh, nothing has changed.

Catalina leaves them to it and changes in the locker room while Fields waits outside. She takes her hair out of its ponytail and hangs her coat, then shimmies out of her scrubs. She's pulling her slacks on and deep v-neck blazer when Soren comes in.

Their eyes meet briefly until the pediatric surgeon brushes past her and to his locker. "We really won't have to worry about another pysch patient with that outside. He's a big guy."

He opens his locker and takes off his coat. Catalina clears her throat. "Well, he has to be. He needs to keep me alive."

With nonchalance, Soren strips off his shirt and says, "Or else he's dead? Or someone he loves?"

Catalina purses her lips. "My husband operates in ways I do not agree with. But I'm in this life, anyway."

He looks at her. "Is that why you're back? Making amends for his sins? Saving lives in exchange for those he takes away?"

Catalina sits down on the bench and takes off her sneakers. She slips on her heels and says, "That's the first and last time you save me."

Soren snorts, changing into his regular clothes. "There shouldn't have been a first. Thought your husband was the kingpin."

Quietly, she responds, "He is."

Soren looks at her. "How many were killed because you were harmed?"

Catalina holds his gaze and returns that with a question of her own, "Who was that woman you treated? And loved?"

He closes his locker and shoulders his bag. "Pretty sure she's dead now. And your husband probably killed her."

*

Kael greets her with a heated kiss as soon as she's inside the car.

"Hi," she whispers.

He kisses her again. "Sue cooked dinner. Jae is home."

Catalina smiles and leans against him, inhaling his scent. Kael wraps his arms around her and kisses her head. "Okay."

"How was work?"

"Good," she answers honestly, playing with his fingers. "I missed the OR. The hospital. I had to catch up on a lot but it was rewarding." She doesn't want to ask but she does, knowing Kael will give her a vague answer, anyway. "What about you?"

He breathes out in annoyance. "I spent the day distracted. Monitoring you."

Catalina turns her head to look at him. Kael's eyes are dark, troubled. Worried. A look she never thought she'd see on the Fourth. "You can't afford to be thinking about me during work."

He brushes his hand over her cheek. "I'm always thinking about you, Catalina."

But today, they weren't good thoughts.

Kael's power, wealth, and resources insulate him. He thrives on control and domination, he does not know how to operate otherwise. That he would consider it worthwhile to lose his peace of mind just make her happy...

A thought comes to her. In exhange for everything Kael is willing to do, Catalina is willing to do this.

"Chuck," she calls from the backseat. Her husband's left looks at her briefly on the mirror. "Let's make a stopover to the tattoo shop before dinner."

Chuck's eyebrows raise. Despite the exhaustion on his face, his mouth turns up into a grin. "Whoa, blondie, don't send Kael into a cardiac arrest like that."

Kael has stopped moving beside her. He's watching her with intent.

Catalina kisses him. "The Fourth's wife needs to be tattooed, too."

Her husband searches her face. Whatever he finds seems to quiet his doubts, because he doesn't ask another question or voice any hesitation.

Chuck pushes open the glass door of the tattoo parlor, Kael and Catalina behind him, and Fields flanking them last. It's dimly lit, with walls lined with framed flash art and a faint hum of a tattoo machine coming from the back room. From the counter, the  big, tattooed artist looks up from his sketch pad, his dark eyes narrowing.

For a split second, his hand falters. Then he stands up and bows ever so slightly. "Fourth."

"Sasha," Kael greets lowly, his arms crossed. "How's business?"

"Picked up after your ascension," Sasha answers gruffly. "What can I do for you? Same thing?"

"For my wife," Kael says.

Sasha's gaze flicks to her. He grants her the same bow, his posture stiffening. "Mrs. Kincaid, what a pleasure."

His tongue says pleasure but his tone is edged with caution. Catalina tries a small smile. "Hello."

The artist gestures towards the chair. "Sit."

She does as instructed, the faint scent of antiseptic wafting up as she leans back. Sasha works in silence for a moment, preparing his tools. At one point, he glances over at the three men—Chuck is observing the art on the wall, Fields is standing rigidly by the door, alert and tense, and Kael settles into a nearby chair, watching them.

"Sit up for me," Sasha says finally, snapping on a pair of gloves. "This should be quick and simple enough."

Catalina brushes her blonde hair out of the way. Kael stares at her while Sasha begins, the buzz of the tattoo machine filling the air. She winces, the sting of the needle prickling her skin.

Like he said, it's quick. When Sasha finishes, he sets the machine down and wipes the tattoo clean with gentle precision. "All done," he announces, stepping back.

Catalina stands and moves to the mirror, tilting her head to see the four, neat black lines etched into her skin. She smiles faintly, satisfied. "Thank you," she says, turning to Sasha. 

Kael brushes his fingers on her nape, inhaling softly. He holds her gaze for a second before murmuring, "I trust you'll be discreet."

"Of course," the artist says. "Fourth."

"Sasha," Chuck says in farewell as they leave.

At home, dinner with Jae is a quiet affair. When she and Kael go up to their room, her leads her to the bathtub, gathering her in his arms. He washes her body gently, then kisses her nape and murmurs in her ear, "Thank you, jaan."

Catalina leans her head on his chest and tightens her fingers in his.

Not another word is exchanged between them as they get ready for bed. Catalina understands what the tattoo means to him: each line is a declaration of loyalty to him—a silent promise to the life they share. They shouldn't belong together—Kael, a prince—now king—of darkness, and Catalina, whose heart is too soft for the shadows. The mafia should always come first, yet their marriage defies logic, reason, danger. And despite the chaos that comes with loving him, Catalina chooses this. Chooses him.

Catalina slips in bed in one of Kael's shirts and her underwear and waits for Kael to climb in, gloriously half-naked in his sweatpants. But he frowns at his phone and sighs irritably.

"What?" she asks in irritation, already knowing that his work is once again being a cockblocker. "It's ten in the evening, Kael, please."

Her whining is futile. Running the mafia is not a nine to five job. "I know," he mutters, typing a confirmation and glancing at her. "Fuck, I was going to fuck you to sleep. But this is urgent."

Catalina exhales heavily and swings her legs over the bed. "Fine. Come on."

She throws on more decent clothes and Kael gets dressed. Downstairs, Samara strides in the penthouse in cotton candy pink—maxi dress, big tulle coat, plush fuzzy cat-eye sunglasses, and a faux fur tote bag. "I have a fucking name!" she announces happily. Then she stops in the middle of the entrance way and twirls.

"Tone your theatrics the fuck down, Samara," Kael mutters tiredly, handing Catalina her tea and taking a seat beside her on the breakfast bar.

"Dear, you gotta walk in every room like God sent you," Samara answers, chuckling. "And I am indeed a Godsend—I'm brilliant, sexy, and I have a fucking name!"

Merlot, Polo, and Chuck enter the penthouse after her. Polo's finger is on his phone, and Chuck makes a beeline to the coffee machine, looking exhausted. They're both still in their work clothes.

"You look like hell," Catalina says.

"Tell my boss I need a fucking raise," Kael's left mutters, yawning.

"Dear, get me a glass of moscato," Samara tells Polo, whisking him away. He immediately ventures to the wine bar without looking away from his phone. "I am so fucking sexy and amazing, I have no idea how you Kincaids didn't die while I was gone."

"Polo hyung almost did," Jae quips, coming down the stairs in his pajamas, rubbing his eyes. Polo shoots him a look.

Kael pinches his forehead with his free hand and hisses, "Samara, do you have something of actual fucking importance to me or is your existence just going to give me a continual migraine?"

"It's not Hugh, it was the original pilot," Chuck reports, leaning against the island. "They switched shifts. He frequents a whorehouse."

Samara sits next to Catalina with a smile and a wink, accepting the glass Polo offers her. "Turns out Leslie is ever so loyal."

"Get to the point," Kael bites with a glance to Catalina.

His stepmother takes a sip before announcing proudly, "The whore's name is Irina."

Kael is not impressed. He takes out a stick and puts it in his mouth. "Irina what?"

"Oh, you ungrateful little brat," Samara gets out through gritted teeth. "You don't thank me enough for having the patience not to kill you."

Chuck runs a hand over his tired face. "What she means is—"

"Silence," Samara scolds him. "No one knows her, there's no trace of any records in the police archives, we have nothing but dust. She's like a ghost—but I got a fucking name and it's only me who can do that."

"Fake name?" Merlot asks, her features set in that angry expression. Catalina realizes she hasn't seen much of the captain these days and is quite pleased about the fact.

"Or buried, wiped clean," Polo counters in a quiet, contemplative voice. "I've never seen anything like it."

"We did it," Samara reminds him, pointedly glancing around.

"It's different," Chuck cuts in. "There are records. New records."

"My point is, we've wiped someone off this earth and made her a ghost—new records or not," Kael's stepmother says irritably. "But I found the name, no matter how hard and meticulous Cirillo wiped the evidence."

And that is precisely why Samara is valuable to the Kincaids and why Crius and Cirillo were willing to accept the Third's deal.

Kael blows out his smoke. Then decidely says, "Chuck will find her. Won't you, Chuck?"

The hunter nods once.

"It's never a good thing to fall in love with a whore," Samara voices, clicking her tongue.

"It's never a good thing to fall in love," Kael says, glancing at Catalina. "But people do it, anyway."

Samara sighs and raises her glass to him before drinking. "Even the devil."

*

#ReignTheFourthWP