Ask politely

Amira woke the next morning, her face puffy from the tears of the night before.

This was her life now, the reality she had no choice but to accept.

She dragged herself out of bed, splashed cold water on her eyes, and straightened her shoulders before stepping into the hallway.

She stilled for a second as she walked in on Leon seated on the couch, dressed in a dark suit, his sunglasses firmly in place even indoors.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice flat and cold.

“I didn’t think you’d be awake this early,” she murmured, taking a seat in the chair opposite him.

“I’m blind, Amira, not helpless,” he said. “And I have a business to run, in case you forgot.” he snapped.

“I—I'm sorry,” she whispered, cheeks burning. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, almost a scoff. “We have a press conference today. I expect you to play your part perfectly, smile, nod, you're to look like the devoted wife. No mess ups, no hesitation.”

“But we just got married yesterday! Isn’t there shouldn’t there be at least a break—”

“I don’t know what relationship you think we have for you to think you question me,” he cut her off, tone low and controlled. “Get ready for the conference.”

Her lips curved in a scoff before she stood.

“And I don’t know whatever Giselle whispered in your ear to make you think you can order me around,” she snapped, stepping closer. “I’m your wife, not your pawn!”

“We need to be at that press conference today,” he repeated, calm now, but there was still an edge of control to his words.

“Postpone it,” she said, leaning against the chair. “A day after the wedding, standing in front of the press, only makes it look like a game. You’re blind, not daft.”

“It cannot be postponed…” he started.

“If it cannot, then ask me,” she said, voice steady. “Ask me like you would a wife you respect, a wife you care about.”

He froze. She waited. He didn’t.

“I’m not going to—”

“I’ll see you some other time, then,” she said, moving to leave.

“Amira,” he called, and she paused.

“We have a press conference today. You will be there, please” he said, and for the first time, the edge in his voice softened, just slightly.

She smirked, all the smugness she could muster. “Okay. What time? And how’s my dress going to be arranged, dearest husband?”

“The team will handle it,” he said, nodding, already retreating.

"Alright, they should let me know when they arrive, for now, I'll retreat," She said and stood up to leave when he spoke again.

"Mrs Leon," The head chef called, bowing curtly before Amira.

"My name is Amira, I'd prefer if you—"

"Don't push it Amira, you're my wife now, the title comes with it," Leon snapped as he stood up from his chair to the dining table.

“Save my food for later,” she said, crossing her arms. “I don’t feel like eating.”

Leon’s gaze shifted toward her, sharp beneath the dark glasses.

"You will eat now, Amira, not later, now," he said but she shook her head still.

"I think you still need to come to terms with the fact that you're married to a woman, not a toy, not a molded piece of clay that you can twist whenever you want, I will eat when I'm ready ans that's final,"

"You're pushing your limits, I'm sure—"

"Sure what? Giselle told me I was here to follow orders like a maid? If you're not okay with it, file for a divorce, that's it,"

The head chef bowed again, retreating with a quick nod, as he noticed the heated argument between them both.

Leon stood and moved toward the window, one hand resting lightly on the railing.

“The press will arrive in an hour. Your dress, hair, makeup, they’ll be ready. You will look flawless, Amira. No excuses.”

She stared at him, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “Flawless right? Just like the perfect little wife everyone wants to see.” Her voice was low, but each word cut.

He didn’t respond immediately. When he finally spoke, it was measured and deliberate. “You are more than a display, Amira. But appearances are everything right now. Do not forget that.”

She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. For now, the battle was postponed. She had bigger fights ahead than picking at his words.

She turned and made her way to the stairs, her heels clicking sharply against the marble. Every step reminded her that she was trapped in his world, whether she liked it or not. And Leon Mercer had already made it clear that he would test every limit she dared to push.

***

A few hours later after his team had arrived to get her ready for the conference, she stood before a large mirror, staring at the reflection of herself.

Beautiful, she'd been glammed to perfection and she heaved a small sigh before stepping out of the room to the team waiting outside.

"Here Mrs Mercer," Leon's assistant said and handed her a file.

"What is this?"

"It's a script, the answers to the questions you'll be asked at the press conference." The assistant replied.

"Did Leon said that I'd be needing a script?" She asked, staring hard at the assistant.

"Yes, he needs to make sure there are no mistakes at the press conference, your answers need to be the same," The assistant answered again.

"Is this a press conference or an acting script," Amira hissed as she flipped the pages of the file in her hands.

"There'll be no issue as long as you follow the script Mrs Mercer," The assistant added.

"Please lead the way, the conference already started, you'll get enough time to go through the questions and answers in the car, Mr Mercer is waiting for you as well," he said, and held his hands out to lead her to the car.