"I don't like anyone knowing," Marc growled. Seemed like a simple concept. Wasn't a matter of trust. Or maybe it was, fuck if he knew. Didn't matter anymore.
He snorted. "Pointing out the irony, Isaac. She envied Isolde. Envied that I spoil her. That I let her do what she wants, let her do her social shite, spend my money. That I pay attention but not too much. She's got no fucking idea that I don't fuck my own wife. That there aren't going to be children. Probably thinks I'm letting Isolde decide when we'll have kids. Looks good from the outside. Is good. She's just not got no idea that this is why it works."