Author's Note
I've had this idea in my mind for quite some time, and I've finally decided to bring it to life.
I've noticed that many people here enjoy both fiction and non-fiction, so I thought this would be a great place to begin sharing this story.
This will be a long, multi-part series. So, if you're looking for a quick short story, this may not be for you. However, if you enjoy long, slow-burn novels with gradual character and plot development, I hope you'll find yourself at home here.
I want this series to offer something for a wide range of readers. Everyone has different tastes and kinks, and my goal is to create a story that keeps you engaged throughout this wild ride. If you decide to stick with me, I hope you'll discover elements that appeal to you along the way.
As this is my first time writing and sharing a story publicly, I would genuinely appreciate any feedback, suggestions, or constructive criticism.
Thank you for giving my work a chance, and I hope you enjoy the story.
Enjoy!
CHAPTER 1: A RAIN BEFORE STORM
Koen was standing in front of the large glass window of his home office. He was wearing an expensive, tailored white shirt paired with finely cut khaki trousers. Still holding a coffee in one hand, his eyes were fixed outside, watching the rain. Koen checked his wristwatch once more and decided that he should leave for the office now.
He checked himself in the mirror one last time. Koen’s dark blond hair was neatly trimmed and carefully styled, while his hazel eyes gave his clean-shaven face a sharp, energetic look. He was not the kind of man who grew nervous easily, but today was a big day, not only for him, but for WelTech as well, the software company he had inherited from his mother nearly a year ago.
Over the past year, Koen had worked relentlessly, driven not by the need to prove himself to others, but to himself. WelTech was more than an inheritance to him; it was something he intended to earn the right to lead. At just twenty-six, he had already accomplished what many in the IT industry could only dream of.
Koen passed by his bedroom and quietly opened the door to check on his wife, who was still sleeping soundly. Saskia lay on her right side, facing the door, while the faint light from the hallway slipped into the otherwise dark room and gently illuminated her face. Even after three years of marriage, Koen still found it difficult to believe that this angelic woman was truly his wife.
For a moment, he simply stood there, watching her in silence. A few strands of her straight platinum blonde hair rested across her cheek, and in the soft glow spilling through the doorway, she looked almost unreal, peaceful and untouched.
Quietly, he stepped closer to the bed and carefully brushed the strands of hair away from her face before leaning down to press a soft kiss against her cheek. She was naked under the soft blanket and the faint scent of jasmine still lingered around her, the same perfume she had worn on their date the night before.
“Sleep well, love” he whispered.
Koen closed the bedroom door quietly behind him and stood still for a brief moment in the hallway. The silence of the house felt heavier now, as if it knew the weight of the day ahead. Outside, the rain tapped steadily against the windows, a soft but constant reminder that the world was already moving without waiting for him.
What truly weighed on his mind was that Soren was coming to Zilverduin tonight, his oldest friend, perhaps his only real one. Soren’s life of hardship stood in stark contrast to Koen’s world of privilege. Raised in luxury, Koen had never wanted for anything, while Soren hadn’t even had a last name. Years ago, Koen’s mother had rescued the ten-year-old boy from a sewer, bleeding from a deep gash on his arm, and quietly given him a second chance at life, housing, school, even an allowance. From then on, Koen and Soren were inseparable.
After high school, everything changed. Soren left Zilverduin, refused help, and eventually served time in prison. The last time Koen saw him was three years ago, when Soren stood as best man at his wedding, slouching in a gray suit too big for him, his shaved head bowed in silence.
Tonight, after years apart, he was returning.
Koen sat in the driver’s seat of his oak-green metallic Panamera, thinking about last night’s date, when he had brought up Soren’s impending arrival. Saskia had never liked Soren from the very beginning and had tried to keep him away from Soren. Koen didn’t blame her; he understood that Soren’s reputation hardly strengthened his case.
Suddenly, his phone blinked. A text from Saskia appeared:
Wifey: You forgot your jacket
‘Fuck’, A moment later, another message popped up:
Wifey: Wait, I’m bringing it to you
Koen sat behind the wheel of his oak-green metallic Panamera, engine idling softly. His mind kept drifting back to the night before, the rare, filthy pleasure of his wife’s mouth. Saskia seldom gave head, but when she does…
“You should have awake me”
He looked to his right and felt the air leave his lungs.
Saskia was walking toward the car in nothing but a loosely tied maroon silk robe that barely reached mid-thigh. The belt was knotted carelessly, allowing the front to fall open with every step. The inner curves of her full breasts were completely exposed, her nipples only just covered by the slipping fabric. She moved with unhurried confidence, hips swaying, completely unbothered by how much skin she was showing in their driveway.
Saskia had never been the modest kind. She loved her body and hated covering it with long, boring clothes. Koen, for his part, loved showing her off.
Koen stepped out of the car. Saskia held his jacket open for him and he slipped his arms into it.
“Thank you, babe,” he said.
A bright smile lit up her face. “You ready for today?”
“Yes, most certainly.” He leaned in and kissed her, then added softly, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For letting me invite Soren for dinner tonight.”
“Koen…” Her voice instantly carried clear displeasure. “I still don’t understand why you had to invite him. You know how I feel about him.”
“He’s my oldest friend, babe. He’s stood by my side every time.” Koen paused, choosing his words carefully. “He just… had a really rough life.”
Ø
Koen stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the 23rd floor. He was heading up to the important investors meeting for WelTech. The elevator rose smoothly until it stopped at the 16th floor. Three men and one woman stepped in. They all exchanged polite pleasantries.
At the 20th floor, the three men got off, leaving Koen alone with the woman.
Only then did he get a proper look at the woman standing beside him. She was petite at 5'3", with a slim, delicate frame. Her platinum blonde hair fell in soft, glossy waves just past her shoulders, framing a strikingly pretty face. She wore a fitted red pencil skirt that hugged her slender hips, paired with a crisp white blouse tucked in neatly, the top two buttons undone to reveal just a hint of cleavage. A tailored black blazer rested on her shoulders, and her 3-inch nude heels added a few extra inches to her height. Even in the quiet elevator, she carried a sharp, almost arrogant confidence that was impossible to ignore. Despite her small stature, she seemed larger than life next to Koen, who stood at 5'9".
Koen frowned. “Can you button up?”
The woman didn’t even look up from her phone. “Can you stop looking?” she replied coolly.
‘Why did she always have to be so impossible?’ he thought. The only thing he and his sister had in common was their hair color, and even that had changed about a year ago. He was too focused on the meeting to argue with her; any argument would be pointless. Cornelia had been stubborn since childhood. Yet despite her uncompromising attitude, he knew one thing for certain, she would always have his back when he needed it. She was one of the reasons he had put WelTech on the road to success. Now, he would face all the investors at once, and it was his job to plant his ideas firmly in the minds of those old, obstinate men who hadn’t learned to adapt to a world that kept moving forward.
“Hey, Nell,” Koen spoke just after exiting the elevator. “Are they all in?” He cast her a quick side glance.
“In?” Cornelia gave a slight chuckle. “They’re all waiting for you to eat you alive—like vultures,” she replied, still texting on her phone.
“Vultures only eat the dead,” Koen said, adjusting his jacket as he walked toward the meeting room.
“What—” Cornelia finally looked up at him for the first time.
“Never mind,” Koen said, ignoring her confusion, and opened the door to the meeting room, letting her walk in first.
Koen stepped into the conference room after Cornelia, the heavy door shutting behind them with a decisive click. For the first time since taking control of WelTech, he was facing all the investors at once. His stomach tightened slightly. Numbers and projections were one thing, but eight scrutinizing pairs of eyes, each holding a stake in his company, were something else entirely.
The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the city far below. Koen scanned the long table. On his right, in the first chair, sat Evelien van Dijk, a sharp forty-two-year-old woman with dark hair pulled back tightly and glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. Her gaze was piercing, the kind that cut straight through pretense.
To his left, Cornelia quietly took her seat and smoothly crossed her legs. Koen immediately noticed Daan Smit’s lustful eyes following her every movement. At only twenty-eight, Smit was the youngest investor in the room, and by far the most inexperienced. He had a long, freckled face and sat at the far end of the right side.
Among the six other investors was the man Koen worried about most, Jay Veenendaal. The fifty-eight-year-old sat attentively but in complete silence. With a clean-shaven, handsome, lightly tanned face and a full head of gray hair, Veenendaal carried a quiet authority. As the largest shareholder after Koen, his opinion could sway the entire room. He was also the founder of Toekomst, a company now on the verge of global expansion with its unique electronic machines.
“Thank you all for joining us on such short notice,” Koen said, waiting until everyone had acknowledged him. The room carried a strong scent of coffee and polished wood. He glanced at Cornelia, who sat with an amused little smile playing on her lips.
“Today,” Koen continued, “we will decide the future of the dream my mother envisioned, not just for us, but for the generations to come.”
He delivered his pitch with calm confidence. The meeting was filled with back-and-forth questions, most of them coming from Daan Smit. His questions were often amateurish, revealing his lack of experience, but Koen could tell the young man was desperate to prove himself.
The meeting stretched on for nearly three hours. Throughout it all, Jay Veenendaal remained completely silent. It was difficult to read a man who never spoke. Koen carefully observed everyone’s reactions. Most investors looked skeptical, but Veenendaal’s face stayed utterly unreadable.
Finally, Koen concluded his presentation with his mother’s favorite line: “As my mother used to say, ‘Build what others can’t imagine, and the rest will follow.’ Thank you.”
The room held its silence like a held breath,until Veenendaal finally spoke. “Your idea does sound amusing, Mr. Jensen,” he said, pausing as he looked down at his tablet. Koen hadn’t even noticed he was taking notes. Veenendaal scrolled a bit more before continuing, “What you’re suggesting could change the game…” He paused again, this time looking straight into Koen’s eyes, “…or end your reign.”
All eyes turned to Koen. Veenendaal’s deep, heavy voice carried significant weight. For a brief moment, Koen was at a loss for words, unsure whether it was encouragement or a veiled threat.
Koen finally composed himself and replied calmly, “I trust myself enough to take this risk, Mr. Veenendaal.” He returned the man’s gaze and, for the first time, saw a faint smile on Veenendaal’s face.
“We’re going to need some time to discuss,” Amara spoke in a slow, husky voice.
Amara de Vries sat directly across from him, completely ignoring Smit’s occasional glances. The 34-year-old investor had a striking face with high cheekbones, full lips, and sharp dark eyes. Her long, jet-black hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders. She wore an elegant, tailored black dress that accentuated her figure while remaining perfectly professional.
Amara glanced at her phone and added, “After lunch, I hope.” she added, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Koen exhaled slowly, letting the tension leave his shoulders. He had survived his first full board meeting, though he could already tell Veenendaal was going to be a constant challenge.
Everyone had left the room except Cornelia, who remained seated, looking at him with questioning eyes.
“Would you be able to hear the verdict after lunch and let me know?” Koen asked hopefully.
Cornelia gave him a faint smile. “Sure, brother.”
Koen left the meeting room and quickly headed to the seventh floor. He stepped inside his office and carefully locked the door behind him. He wasn’t hungry. He was craving something else, something he didn’t fully understand.
The office was large and imposing, filled with old-money elegance. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a sweeping view of the Zilverduin skyline, while dark walnut paneling, leather-bound bookshelves, and heavy antique furniture gave the room a sense of inherited wealth and power. A massive oak desk sat near the windows, dominating the space.
Koen awakened his computer, entered his password, and went straight to the Google search bar. He typed two words:
‘Cuckold Reddit’
The moment he pressed enter, a flood of questions rushed into his mind. ‘Why am I here? Why does this excite me so much? Why not normal porn like other men?’
He had several favorite accounts here, real wives letting other men fuck them in front of their husbands, or sometimes behind their backs, only to record it for them later. Every time he visited this side of Reddit, a strange, dark excitement stirred inside him. It wasn’t just about sex. It was the lifestyle. The power exchange. The way the wives submitted to their lovers while dominating their cuckold husbands.
He knew exactly when it began, back in high school, when Koen and Saskia were still learning who they were. He remembered her in dance class, bodies moving close with one of her male partners, and him standing at the edge, silent, watching. He didn’t understand why he lingered there, nor could he name what he was searching for. ‘Was I hoping to catch her cheating?’ ‘No—’ he could never imagine leaving her. ‘Or was I hoping she would cheat on me?’ That question still haunts him. Nothing had ever happened, not that day, nor any other day he secretly watched. Yet every time, he was left with the same confusing mix of emotions, never sure whether he felt more relieved… or more disappointed.
All he knew was that the strange excitement he felt in his stomach back then was exactly the same feeling he got now, scrolling through ‘Cuckold Reddit’.
Koen took out the small black key from his wallet and unlocked the bottom drawer of his oak desk. He pulled out a bottle of water-based lube, some wipes, and a condom, all the items he had secretly ordered to his office. He opened his trousers, took out his hard 4.5-inch cock, and rolled the condom on with practiced hands.
‘What triggered me today?’ he thought as he slowly stroked his lubed cock, eyes fixed on the screen.
He stopped on a video where the wife was lying on her back, legs spread wide. Her husband knelt right beside her, holding one of her thighs high on his shoulder while gripping her hand tightly, watching another man fuck her.
Suddenly, the woman’s face morphed in his mind. It became Amara.
He imagined her beautiful body moving with every hard thrust. Even though the video had no sound, Koen could clearly hear her husky voice in his head, moaning in a thick Spanish accent, desperately begging, her lover to fuck her harder. He had never seen her husband, but in his fantasy, the man was kneeling right beside her, holding her thigh, watching everything up close as another man fucked his wife.
Then something shifted.
Amara’s black hair turned into long, silky golden-blonde. Her tanned skin became pale and flawless. Now it was Saskia on her back, mouth open in a perfect ‘O’, eyes rolling back in pleasure. And it was Koen who was kneeling right beside her, holding her leg, watching another man ruin his wife’s pussy.
The man fucked Saskia harder, roughly grabbing her right breast as he pounded into her. When he finally came deep inside her, he pulled out and immediately grabbed the back of Koen’s head, shoving his face straight into Saskia’s freshly creampied pussy.
That was the moment Koen came hard into the condom, groaning quietly in his empty office.
He stared at the ceiling, breathing heavily.
‘What the fuck just happened…’
THE HEIR’S SECRET
-
loyaltoher
- Trainable
- Posts: 69
- Joined: Sun Nov 30, 2025 5:17 am
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Re: THE HEIR’S SECRET
good start! keep going
Re: THE HEIR’S SECRET
CHAPTER 2: THE RAIN CHECK
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 door-frame. "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 stroked 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 on going 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.
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 door-frame. "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 stroked 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 on going 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.