Turn Him Into A Eunuch

Mercy shook her head, laughing softly. Then, glancing down at her stomach, she whispered, "I still can't believe I'm going to be a mother."

Zephyr's expression softened. He reached for her hand and gently brushed his thumb over her knuckles. "You're going to be amazing. And I can't wait to see how beautiful you'll look once the pregnancy starts showing."

"Really? Don't you mean how 'shapeless, I'll look?"

"You'll always be beautiful to me, sweetheart."

Shantel remained silent, watching the couple bicker with each other with an unreadable expression.

Then, after a beat, she clapped her hands together. "Alright, enough of the mushy moment. We need to start making plans."

"Plans for what?" Mercy asked, sincerely confused.

"Plans on how I'm going to make sure you stay out of trouble until this baby arrives. And trust me, darling, I have ideas."

Zephyr's groan sounded loud and clear and the two women burst out laughing even before he said, "I suddenly have a bad feeling about this,"

"You should, man. You should," Shantel teased as she rose, and picked up her handbag.

"See y'all tomorrow."

"Finally," Zephyr sighed in relief. 

"Don't do what I wouldn't want you to do," Mercy cautioned as she saw Shantel to the door.

"And ensure you don't —"

"Get your fingers burnt," both Shabtel and Mercy simultaneously finished together, making Zephyr roll his eyes.

"Are you two mocking me?"

"Why?

"No."

Shantel quickly bent over and placed a swift kiss on Mercy's flat tummy. "Be good, little one and don't stress mummy," she whispered before running off, leaving the happy couple behind. 

"What's going on? What's she doing partying? I thought she hated those places?" Mercy asked after the door was securely fastened behind them.

"She still does. She's only putting up appearances,"

"For who? I wish she'd stop all these and let everyone see her for who she truly is. I just can't stand seeing her constantly castigated and ostracized because of that false facade and ridiculous flaming hair… I have nothing against red hair, you know, but— when I know underneath, is our pure and priceless Shantel. I just can't reconcile myself to it."

You know how stubborn she is. Once she's made up her mind about something, she'll follow through." He paused, his blue eyes darkening. "There's only one person who has any real power to sway her."

Mercy hesitated. "Lady Genevieve? But she always supports everything Shantel does."

"Probably the reason, Shantel listens to her," Zephyr said.

"Mercy reached for Zephyr's hand, her delicate fingers curling around his. "Promise me you'll keep an eye on her. She's the only true friend we've ever had, and I wouldn't want to lose her for anything—especially now that she's about to become a godmother."

Zephyr's brows shot up. "Wait, what? You want her to be our child's godmother? Aren't you the best?" His grin widened mischievously. "Oh, just wait until Shantel hears this. She's going to be over the moon."

"She'll be very happy, right?"

"Happy is an understatement—she'll be blown away. I bet she'll practically move in with us."

Mercy giggled. "That would be nice."

"Nice?" Zephyr groaned dramatically. "Do you want to turn me into a eunuch? I never knew you to be so heartless— conniving with people to deny me my legal, conjugal rights."

Mercy smirked. "Didn't you hear what the doctor said—"

"Forget about the doctor," Zephyr murmured, his gaze dark with intent. "I know you want this as much as I do. I can tell just by how your eyes are now fluttering."

"I…"

Whatever Mercy was about to say was lost as Zephyr's lips crashed onto hers, silencing any protest with a kiss that left no room for doubt.

Meanwhile, as the couple decided to take laws into their own hands behind closed doors, a bright red Lamborghini pulled up in front of Velvet Mirage, one of the most exclusive underground lounges in the city.

The driver jumped down and hurried over to the other side to open the door. 

Out slid the most exquisite pair of legs clad in black lace-up stilettos. The thin straps snaking up her ankles like elegant bindings accentuated the sharp arch of her foot. 

The moment Shantel Hale stepped through the towering glass doors, a hush fell over the crowd before the room erupted into murmurs. 

She was a vision to behold.

Dressed in a smoldering, deep crimson silk dress with a dangerously high slit that revealed toned legs, she commanded every gaze. The fabric clung to her curves in a way that was both elegant and provocative, 

Her signature fiery hair cascaded down her back in loose waves, and a few curled strands tickled down the groove between her chest which had been exposed by the plunging neckline of her dress—leaving just enough to the imagination. 

The whispers began immediately.

"OMG! Shantel is here!"

"Which Shantel?"

"The Seventh Daughter of Jezebel of course."

"Shantel Hale? Here? What is she up to this time?"

"We can only wait to see. I bet we're in for a swell night."

"God, she looks lethal. How does she always pull off this ensemble every time she shows up."

"That's what makes her The Seventh Daughter of Jezebel."

The attention was nothing new to her. She moved like she owned the place—because, in many ways, she did. 

The men stared—some in awe, some in thinly veiled lust. While women eyed her with a sweet blend of envy and reluctant admiration. But none dared to approach.

Not yet, she mused.

She made her way to the bar, and as she took her seat at the bar, the bartender, a tall man with sharp cheekbones and an easy smile, slid over, resting his hands on the polished counter. 

"Whiskey. Neat," she said in a voice as smooth as silk.

The bartender's eyes— a deep shade of amber, skimmed her from head to toe before settling on her face with a glint of appreciation.

"Well, well… The infamous Shantel Hale graces our bar tonight," he drawled, reaching for a crystal glass.

Shantel arched a brow, amused. "You say that like it's a rare sight."

"Oh, it is. A woman like you doesn't just walk into Velvet Mirage; you make an entrance. And judging by the way half this room forgot how to breathe, I'd say you've outdone yourself tonight." 

He poured her a drink, watching as the rich golden liquid swirled in the glass before he slid it toward her. "On the house."

Shantel lifted the glass and tilted it slightly as she studied him over the rim. "Flattery and free drinks? Careful, Andrew, I might think you're trying to impress me."

He leaned in slightly and lowered his voice. "Would it be so bad if I were?"

Shantel smirked, swirling the drink before taking a slow sip. "That depends… do you impress easily?"

He chuckled. "Only when the view is this good."

Shantel set her glass down, fingers tapping lightly against the rim. "Then let's hope you can keep up, sweetheart. I don't play with amateurs."

The bartender let out a low whistle. "Damn, Shantel. No wonder they call you the Seventh Daughter of Jezebel."

Shantel simply chuckled, lifting her glass for another sip,

This time around, she took a slow sip, letting the burn trail down her throat as she surveyed the room.

Then, a slow smirk curled on her lips as her gaze landed on the private VIP section.