Elara approached him and, with a graceful movement, jumped into the water. The shock of contact with the water, which was an inviting thirty-seven degrees Celsius, was a pleasant surprise. The water was gentle and warm, and the sensation of being there, naked, next to Daniel, was a freedom she had never felt before.
He moved closer, his arms wrapping around her waist, and pulled her close. The kiss he gave her was so tender and passionate that it made her sigh. "Welcome to my world," he whispered, his voice a vow that made her feel safe.
The morning sun shone on their bodies, and the pool water reflected the light in millions of bright spots. The city below was just a backdrop, a backdrop to their story. Elara felt complete, whole. She was home. The quest for revenge, the fear, the insecurity—all of it seemed to have been washed away by the pool water. She was Daniel's woman, and she was ready for whatever came. This was her new universe, and she was ready to master it.
The morning sun, already high and strong, kissed Elara and Daniel's skin with a warmth that blended perfectly with the water of the infinity pool, kept at a blistering thirty-seven degrees Celsius. They floated, their naked bodies submerged, the crystal-clear water gently swaying with their movements. The vastness of the city, stretching to the horizon, was a spectacle of light and concrete, but for Elara, the universe was reduced to the deep blue of the water and Daniel's presence at her side. His hair, still damp from his swim, gleamed in the sun, and the stillness on his face was a reflection of the peace she felt for the first time in a long time.
While they were lost in that suspended moment, a different, yet equally orchestrated life was unfolding miles away and just a few feet away. In the bedroom, the three daytime maids, dressed in understated, elegant uniforms, moved silently under the shadows. The door to Daniel's room, strategically hidden in a dark wood panel, opened and closed with a soft, barely audible click. They knew their master was in the pool, and it was their job to leave the room spotless for his return. The carpeted floor was soft and sound-absorbing, and their movements were fluid and efficient. One of them, with an Egyptian cotton handkerchief in hand, polished the wood paneling, while the other two, with a quiet vacuum cleaner, cleaned the carpet. The scent of gentle, fresh cleaning products mingled with the scent of cedar and sandalwood that still lingered in the air. The bed, where their passion had unfolded, was the primary focus. The tangled and wrinkled silk sheets were gently removed and replaced with fresh ones, laid out with a perfection that seemed magical. The pillows were realigned and inflated, and the towels were replaced with clean, warm ones, which were superheated on the towel warmer. The silent orchestra of Daniel's staff, all saved by him in some way and signs even of death, ensured that the transition from night to day was a spectacle of comfort and anticipation.
There in the pool, Daniel felt a slight vibration on his wrist. It wasn't a watch, but a discreet sensor embedded in his metal bracelet, which connected to a series of sensors around the pool's edge. It was a signal, a low-frequency Morse code he and Henry had developed. A silent message informed him that the maids had entered the room for cleaning. Daniel, the invisible master, was always aware of every movement in his kingdom. He climbed out of the water, his body dripping with water, and walked to the edge of the pool, where the view of the city was most impressive. The morning sunlight fell on his face, and he closed his eyes for a moment, the warm sensation on his skin a promise of rest and tranquility.
"Henry," he murmured, his voice low and soft, never leaving the air. Instead, the communication came through a discreet microphone on his wrist, invisible to the naked eye. The sound was picked up by a receiver in his ear, a tiny, almost imperceptible device that connected him to Henry, miles away, in his control room. "How about a barbecue tonight? With meats on a spit, grilled over high heat. A barbecue for us to celebrate." Adapting the phrase from a country-specific term to a more universal description was one of the small rules of his universe. Daniel's world was the world, without borders or nationalities, and his references were equally universal.
On the other end of the line, Henry answered, his voice equally discreet. "I'm on my way, sir. Chef Antoine has already brought the meats up to the grill." Henry's efficiency was surreal. He anticipated, predicted, and acted. Daniel's world was a perfect machine of anticipation and comfort.
Elara moved away from him, her body dripping with water, and he turned to her, a playful smile on his lips. "He already knew you'd like the idea, my lotus flower," he said, his eyes shining with admiration. She felt part of a game, not a game of power or seduction, but one of harmony and anticipation. Daniel's universe was a place where chaos didn't exist. It was a place where luxury and functionality blended seamlessly, and she, his wife, was the most important piece of that puzzle.
A subtle sound, the sound of a door opening downstairs, caught his attention. It was a door that led to the rooftop service area. A tall man with a serious face and nimble hands emerged. It was Chef Antoine, the culinary artist who, after being saved by Daniel, had abandoned the Michelin-starred restaurant scene to serve him. He was dressed in a crisp white chef's uniform, with a white hat covering his hair. He carried a silver tray, and on it, the meats. They were perfect cuts: a filet mignon, a sirloin, a rump steak, all marinated in herbs and spices. The aroma of meat and seasoning lingered in the air, mingling with the scent of ozone and the warmth of the morning sun.
Elara, still naked in the pool, inspired Chef Antoine. She expected, for a moment, something to happen. A look of lust, a glint of temptation, a moment of discomfort. But there was nothing. The chef, with Henry's exact description, didn't even look at her. His eyes were fixed on the grill, a satisfied smile on his face. He saw her not as a naked woman in a pool, but as his master's wife, the queen of his kingdom, and she deserved the same respect and description as Daniel. Daniel's team was a family, and their leadership was absolute. Elara's nudity was just a part of the scene, a detail that didn't alter the perfection of that moment. She felt safe, protected, and completely at ease. This was Daniel's universe, where she was free to be who she was, without fear or judgment.
Daniel approached the grill, the sunlight glinting on his wet body. Chef Antoine had already lit the fire, and the flames danced beneath the grate. The sound of the fire, the aroma of the meat, the view of the city—everything blended into a symphony of luxury and pleasure.
"Call everyone, call our family, Henry," Daniel said, his voice a little louder now, and the joy in his voice was palpable. "Call everyone in the house so we can eat and have fun tonight." The word "family" echoed in the air, and Elara felt a shiver of excitement. She was part of that family, part of this universe, and the love and loyalty they felt for Daniel, they felt for her. "And put on some good music, not jazz," he joked, his smile a glint of mischief. "I hate jazz, you know."
Henry's response came with the same description as before. "Yes, Mr. Daniel. The music is already on its way." And, as if by a miracle, the music began. It wasn't jazz. It was a vibrant sound, a contagious rhythm that seemed to echo Daniel's happiness. The invisible speakers, embedded in the marble and walls of the penthouse, played a melody that made Elara's heart flutter. The music, the sun, the water, the aroma of the meat, Daniel's presence—everything blended into an experience she would never forget.
Elara felt at home. The quest for revenge, the fear, the insecurity—everything seemed to have been washed away in the pool water. She was Daniel's wife, and she was ready for whatever came. This was her new universe, and she was ready to dominate it. The game of revenge had been replaced by the game of love and happiness, and she was the winner. She had her family, her man, and her universe. And she needed nothing more.
Daniel moved closer. The kiss he gave her was so tender and passionate that it made her sigh. "Welcome to our family, my lotus flower," he whispered, his voice an oath that made her feel safe. The outside world, with its problems and bureaucracy, seemed distant. This was their universe, and she was the queen. And her reign was just beginning.
Vibrant music filled the rooftop space, the pulsating rhythm mingling with the sound of the fire crackling in the grate and the laughter of the small crowd that had gathered. The sun, now lower in the sky, painted the horizon with warm hues of orange and pink, casting a golden light over the infinity pool and the barbecue scene. Elara, already dressed in a silk robe Henry had provided, felt herself floating in a state of surreal bliss. The smell of grilled meat, the sound of lively conversation, the music—everything was a symphony of pleasure. Daniel's team, his "family," was there, eating and drinking, their loyalty and gratitude visible in every smile and look of enthusiasm. Chef Antoine stood at the grill, his face sweaty but with a satisfied smile, while Henry, discreet as ever, circulated among the guests, making sure no one needed anything.
Daniel stood beside Elara, his arms wrapped around her, the warmth of his body a constant reminder of his presence. He kissed her softly on the shoulder, his eyes shining with affection and pride. He introduced them all, and each of them greeted her with the same reverence and respect they had for him. She was no stranger, but his master's wife, and they accepted her as such. She was the queen, and they were the court. This was his universe, and her happiness was his sun.
But amidst all the joy, Daniel felt a familiar pang of responsibility. His world, the world outside, with its problems and bureaucracy, was calling. He stepped away from Elara, an apologetic smile on his lips, and picked up his cell phone from a small table next to the barbecue grill. The device was a custom-made prototype, with a brushed steel design and a fold-out screen. He walked toward the edge of the pool, where the city view was more impressive, and the distance separated him from the noise of the party.
The first number he dialed was for the director of Mercedes-Benz in New York. The call was answered immediately. "Good morning," Daniel said, his voice a little lower, but with an authority that Elara, just a few feet away, could hear. "I want a 2025 MERCEDES-AMG GT 63 PRO 'MOTORSPORT COLLECTORS EDITION'. The configuration is as follows: shiny piano black with blue accents, like neon lights. I want the seats in white leather, with a simple, almost imperceptible design on the side, which she'll consider. It's not for show. The license plate will be Elara."
Elara felt her heart race. The description of the car was so visual, so cinematic, that she could see it in her mind. The shiny black, the neon-like blue, the white leather interior. And a license plate. Elara. This man was giving her a car that didn't yet exist, with his own license plate, as if her identity were the only thing that mattered. This was Daniel's universe, where luxury wasn't a sign of wealth, but a sign of love and possession.