My jaw clenches so hard tension shoots down my neck.
She laughs. Actually laughs. The sound slips down my spine like a blade.
“Vivian, this is my home,” I say, low and dangerous. “I have never brought strangers here. This place is a sanctuary.”
“It’s my home now, too,” she fires back, voice soft but lethal. “I’m your wife, aren’t I?”
Before I can reply, she pulls me closer by the nape of my neck and presses a slow, mocking kiss to my cheek—like she’s claiming me.
Like she’s flipping the dynamic.
Like she wants war. And fuck, I want to chase everyone out of the room with a gun and take her right here on the floor.
She pulls back, releasing me with a smirk that makes my blood simmer.
“Now let’s not be rude,” she says, brushing a finger along my jaw. “Go say hi to the guests.”
With a wink, she turns and disappears into the crowd—red dress blazing like a warning flare.
My wife.
My enemy.
My problem.
And I’ve never wanted to ruin someone more.
My first instinct is to toss every single one of them out—glitter, champagne, fake laughter and all. I’m not afraid to be the villain. Hell, I prefer it. Wearing that title fits me better than any suit in my closet.
But I don’t want to embarrass Vivian.
The realization punches me hard enough that I freeze mid-stride. Since when do I care about sparing her feelings? Since never. Yet here I am, watching her instead of bulldozing the room like I normally would.
I spot her easily—she’s with Sienna and Elara in a corner, the three of them drinking and laughing like this is some club and not my private sanctuary. If I shut down the party now, I’ll ruin her night. The idea irritates me more than it should.
My second instinct is to turn around, walk to my room, slam the door, and pretend none of this exists. Let the music pulse through the walls. Let the strangers spill wine on my floors. Let the headache grow.
But then I see a man. Tall. Watching Vivian. Following her movements like a shadow that wasn’t invited. He’s not touching her, not talking to her—but he’s hovering.
My entire body goes still.
New instinct unlocked.
I change course and head for the bar instead, planting myself where I can watch both Vivian and the idiot who thinks he can orbit her without consequence.
I order a drink I don’t taste, because my focus is razor-sharpened on them.
I’m waiting.
Waiting for him to get close.
Waiting for him to brush her arm.
Waiting for him to say one word to her.
Just one excuse. Because the moment he crosses a line, he’s mine.
Soon, Vivian turns around and motions for the guy to come closer.
