“Why?”he growled under his breath.“What the hell do I need to do to make her happy?”
His Aunt Tila and Aunt Marianna suddenly appeared at his elbow, both grinning far too knowingly.
“If you want your wife to be happy,” Aunt Tila said lightly, “you have to give her what she actuallywants.”
Not helpful.
He took the glass of scotch his mother handed him, grateful for the burn.At least it wasn’t more damn champagne.“I have no idea what she wants.”
Marianna and Tila both rolled their eyes.His mother didn’t bother.She just gave him a pointed look, then tugged him into a brief, maternal hug.
“I didn’t raise a fool, Zayn,” she murmured as she pulled away.“You know.You just don’t want to admit it.”She patted his chest.“Figure it out before she checks out completely.”
Then they vanished, like a trio of elegant truth bombs.
Before he could regroup, Angela and her husband, Sheik Tiro, reemerged from the crowd.Zayn bit back a sigh.He’d wanted to hate Tiro.The man had swooped in and stolen Angela’s heart, and Zayn had been prepared to loathe him on principle.
Unfortunately, the bastard made his cousin happy.So Zayn had been forced to tolerate him.
“What’s wrong?”Angela asked bluntly, snatching his scotch without even blinking.Obviously, she’d handed their baby off to a waiting nanny, which enabled her to steal a sip of his scotch.The woman didn’t bother to hand it back.Instead, she held onto the glass as if it now belonged to her.
Zayn scowled.“Rude.”
Angela smirked.“Please.You’ve been glaring at everyone for the past hour.I figured you needed to be punished.”
Zayn glared harder.Tiro stepped forward slightly, clearly catching the shift in tension.Zayn almost hoped the guy would take a swing.A good fight might actually clear his head.
Angela arched a brow at him.“Stop taunting my husband.You’re angry and spoiling for a fight, but we both know that’s not going to solve anything.”She gestured vaguely with her glass.“So tell me what’s going on, and I’ll explain what you’re doing wrong.”
He huffed, but her no-nonsense tone broke through the fog of frustration.If anyone could see through him, it was Angela.
“She’s miserable,” he muttered, running a hand down his face.“I’ve tried everything.And I don’t know what I’m supposed to give her to fix it.”
Angela snorted, unimpressed.“Of course you do.”
Zayn raised a sardonic brow.“I do?”
The look she gave him could’ve flattened lesser men.“She’s bored out of her mind, Zayn.”
He blinked.“Bored?”
“She used to spend hours analyzing corruption, chasing down leads, and connecting dots the rest of us didn’t even see.”Angela gestured toward the ballroom.“Now she’s stuck in a palace being fussed over by stylists and told to pick a nail color.”
He winced.
Angela wasn’t done.“You didn’t marry a delicate little ornament, Zayn.You married a damn problem-solver.Give her a puzzle.Give her apurpose.Something she can sink her teeth into.If you want your wife back—the real Azlyn—you need to challenge her brain, not just shower her in diamonds.”
He stared at her, stunned.Then something clicked.
“You’re right,” he said slowly, the beginnings of a plan forming.
Angela smirked.“Of course I am.”
“I meanreallyright,” he said, ignoring her smug grin.“She needs a mental challenge.A project.A mission.”
Angela raised the stolen glass in salute.“There you go.Youaretrainable after all.”
Zayn narrowed his eyes.“Don’t push it.”
