"Go upstairs and pack a bag," I ordered, pretending that it didn't sting when she rejected me in front of my two employees.

Maria grinned, getting her money’s worth, and turned on her heel, back to the kitchen sink.

"I’m not going anywhere. Not until you tell me why, when, where and how,” Sparrow demanded. “Oh, and FYI, I don't even have your phone number. No driver’s license either, so good luck with getting me on that plane. Guess it’s not as easy as you think, bossing me around. You should've really thought about it before..."

She was rambling, and I wanted to press my index finger to her lips and shut her up. But I knew better than to try touching her again. Instead, I raised my hand to cut through her stream of babbling.

“This is the last time I’m going to ask nicely. Go upstairs and pack your shit, understood?”

She stopped talking, her eyebrows flying up in outrage, flipped me the finger, and turned around and climbed upstairs. It was only when I heard her slamming drawers in the bedroom, no doubt to make a point, that I realized how worried I was that she wouldn’t do as I said. Red had fight in her. She was the kind of woman to lead a revolution, not to be kept in a luxury penthouse with a cheating husband.

I was clipping her wings, and I knew it.

Squinting at Connor and feeling the familiar eye-twitch I got every time I wanted to yank someone’s heart out of their chest, I turned my whole body to face him. Up until Sparrow, he was my part-time muscle guy when I required one. He received clear instructions and was paid to act, not to think.

Shortly before we got married, I’d hired him full time to keep an eye on my new wife. Honestly, Connor wasn’t there to keep her safe—no one would go after her. I wasn’t in the mob and even if I were, the underworld didn’t involve wives and children when retaliation was needed. I kept Connor on her tail because I didn’t want her to run away and fuck up everything I’d worked hard to achieve. To make sure I always knew her whereabouts. She was safe without him, but I didn’t want her to know that.

I wanted her small and scared.

What I hadn't taken into consideration was the fact that like most muscle guys, Connor had very little brain to accompany his impressive size. And so, by trying to protect our fake marriage, I’d paired her with an idiot who hurt her.

"Boss…" Connor lifted one sweaty, trembling palm. His face looked like a ball of wrinkled paper, his glistening eyes begging for forgiveness.

I had none to spare. Connor now raised both hands up in surrender, walking backward while I strode toward him until his back hit the wall. His head banged against the polished concrete with a thud.

He was too scared to notice. "You wanted her to get here as soon as possible, and she was stalling on purpose. Then she tried to run away. I had no other option."

“When you poke a bear, Connor…” My voice was low, smooth and threatening. “Prepare to be bitten.”

Stepping into his face, I curled my fingers around his neck and pinned his head to the wall. I squeezed his throat experimentally, watching his eyes bug out, pain and horror dripping from them. I wanted to leave him marked like he left his dirty fingers all over Sparrow’s arm.

"Come near my wife again,” I said, “and I'll show the world just how much of an angry motherfucker I can really be when someone touches what's mine."

"Boss," he gurgled, blood flooding his face and mapping it with little red veins. Sweat dotted his forehead. "Please, I'll never touch her again, no matter what. I wasn't thinking—"

"That much is true." I squeezed harder, not easing the pressure until his cheeks doubled in size and became unmistakably blue. I let him drop to the floor.

He landed with a bang, collapsing like a Jenga tower. His arms shielded his head and body, like he didn’t know where the next blow was going to land. I looked down at him disgusted, a worm I was tempted to squash.

He crawled away, across the room, afraid to look up at me. “I’ll apologize,” he whimpered into his chest, still crawling his way in the opposite direction.

“Don’t,” I spat. “Don’t fucking go anywhere near her ever again.”

I left him to collect what was left of his self-esteem from the floor and climbed upstairs, finding Sparrow sitting on the edge of the bed, staring out the vast window. She didn't look up when I came in, just continued studying whatever it is she was fixated on outside. The sky? The tall buildings? A bird? Who the hell knew?