<b>Chapter </b><b>288 </b>
shus was at a business dinner when the message arrived. The private room buzzed with suited men clinking sses,ughter swirling through <b>cigar </b>
oke
Adian Campbell offered him a cigarette. Joshua reached for it, then paused at Shermaine’s text. “No, thanks.”
Adrian <b>smirked</b><b>. </b>“Your wife banned smoking?” No one had thought Shermaine could tame Joshua, Basterel’s most untouchable man.
<b>“</b>Mm. Don’t want to upset her,” Joshua admitted, amused.
Truthfully, Shermaine never forbade it, just nagged about health risks. Joshua had nned to take one cigarette tonight, but her message changed his
<b>mind</b>.
Adrian pocketed the pack. Joshua refused, and he didn’t push. Besides, after watching this disy of affection, only envy remained in his mind.
Joshua replied: [Should I prepare a whip?]
Shermaine pictured it andughed. [nning to misbehave?]
Joshua chuckled. He thought, ‘My girl is learning to flirt.’
He sent: [Sheary, I’d never dare.]
The man who feared nothing now had one terror—his wife’s temper.
It was just a joke, but seeing how indulgent he was being, Shermaine’s smile deepened.
Joshua added: [If I screw up, hit me all you want. Just don’t banish me on the couch.] That was true torture for a married man. Even asional solo nights were agony.
Shermaine shook her head with <b>a </b>smile.
Downstairs, Jameson winced in pain. The man who had once beaten Madeline now flinched at the sight of Ruth’s feather duster.
Her ferocity made his knees buckle. He nearly bolted, but her offer stopped him. “You mean <b>it</b>?<b>” </b>He gritted out.
Ruth scoffed, “When have I ever lied <b>to </b>you?”
Jameson clenched his fists. “I cheated. That’s on me. Losing Shermaine was my fault. Hit me all you want, then we’re done. But I’m not kneeling.” Not for anyone, especially not for Ruth.
“Fine.” Ruth swung the duster, striking strategically. She was selective about where she hit–ces that hurt like hell but left no <b>real </b>damage.
Yet Jameson, aged and weakened by years of heavy drinking, couldn’t endure it. Within a few strikes, he was pale, drenched in cold sweat, barely standing<b>. </b>
Seeing him trying to stubbornly stand, Ruth aimed straight <b>at </b>his calves.
<b>“</b><b>Ah</b><b>!</b>” With <b>a </b>thud, Jameson copsed to his knees, humiliation burning his <b>face</b>. <b>“</b>Enough! Aren’t you satisfied yet?<b>” </b>
<b>“</b>A few strikes won’t repay what you owe me,” <b>Ruth </b>spat.
Jameson’s face darkened, but he had no retort.
Finally, Ruth tossed the feather duster aside, satisfaction coursing through her. “I’ll hav