Mr. and Mrs. Cash

My father taught me almost everything I know. I've followed in his reputable footsteps and have become a financier. My family have been financial consultants since my great-grandfather started the family business in London.

There's still a London branch of Cash Consultants but I run the U.S. operation.

Who am I a financier for? Well that's proprietary information at best and confidential at most intriguing. I will let you in on a family secret that's been passed on from father to son...don't start a confidential enterprise unless you know how not to get caught.

Don't get me wrong, Cash Consultants is a legitimate business. We consult clients on which stocks to choose, how to create a diverse financial portfolio, and even exchange foreign currencies. However, there's more we are capable of that our website doesn't list.

"Jude," said my stunning wife as she walks into the office.

"You're late, darling," I answer to her as I sift through some financials for my ten o'clock appointment.

However, my wife closes the folder I was looking at as she sits on the edge of my desk. "I was late on purpose. I know you only call me darling when you're upset with me but I can't help but love the way it sounds."

Shaking my head doesn't stop me from smirking. "So, do you have a reason why you're late, darling?"

"I do," she sighs as she takes her cell phone out to look at it. "I got a text this morning from the Yew Brothers that said...ah here it is...we need to schedule an emergency withdrawal, asap." My wife let's her phone rest on my desk as she holds my chin in her hands. "I really wish you hadn't given them my phone number."

My wife wasn't always so bold in her mannerisms. She was a mousy young lady when I first met her. I met her because she came to Cash Consultants although not for herself. She came to drop off some money for her father a mafia boss who still runs most of the underground dealings in Saint Louis, Missouri. If I'm being completely honest it wasn't love at first sight.

Then again, I never did fall for a woman's looks. It was always the brain I was running after. The smarter the sexier. My wife may look like an American Stepford wife but trust me when I say, I have yet to meet a woman smarter or cleverer than her.

I close my eyes to give a sigh of my own, completely caught by surprise by my beloved's kiss. When I open my eyes, I look at her painted red lips. "I'm sorry Rhea, I'll not let your number slip from my heart out of my mouth next time."

"Hmm, you've always known exactly what to say. I think that's why father hasn't killed you yet."

"Yet?"

Rhea smirks as she adds, "My family doesn't believe in divorce but they live for fate to step in."

"It's probably good that divorce had never been an option for me then," I reply with a chuckle.