A thousand thoughts exploded in my head. Julian couldn't have met Harper by chance—there were no coincidences like that in this world. He'd deliberately gotten close to her. Why? Revenge? To use her? Or—
I couldn't let myself think further.
"If you don't want to end up crippled today, you better take your filthy hand off her."
Julian raised one eyebrow, a playful smile on his face. Not only did his hand not move, it slid down several inches, settling around Harper's waist.
"Really?" he drawled. "And who are you to give me orders?"
My last thread of rationality snapped.
I lunged forward, fist connecting with his pretty face. It felt so fucking good—my knuckles landing precisely on his cheekbone, bone on bone making a satisfying thud that pleased me for exactly point-one seconds.
"Fuck!" Julian staggered back, hitting the doorframe. He wiped blood from the corner of his mouth, sapphire eyes instantly turning cold as ice. "Orlov, have you lost your goddamn mind?"
"Stay away from her!" I grabbed his collar andslammed him against the wall. Expensive tailoring crumpled in my hands, but I didn't give a shit. Seven months of rage, fear, guilt, longing—every goddamn emotion converted into violence in that moment. "She's my wife! Get the fuck away from her!"
Julian sneered and drove his knee into my stomach. I grunted but didn't let go. We grappled together, fists and curses filling the narrow hallway. His punch landed on my ribs. My knee drove into his thigh. We tore at each other like animals—hitting, kicking, snarling.
"Your wife?" Julian's voice came through clenched teeth, dripping with mockery. Blood slid from the corner of his mouth. "You think she accepts that title?"
The words struck like a blade, finding my most vulnerable spot.
My movements faltered for just an instant. In that split second, Julian's fist smashed into my jaw.
"Stop! Both of you, stop!"
Harper's scream cut through the chaos. She tried to push between us, but got forced back by our momentum.
"Kirill Orlov!" she shouted, voice shaking. "I said stop!"
I stopped.
Harper shoved between us, pushing me back hard.
Her palms pressed against my chest. Through the thin fabric of my shirt, I could feel her warmth.
"Enough, Kirill. We're done." Harper looked at me with those red-rimmed eyes. "Go home."
"Harper, let me explain—"
"Explain what?" Harper cut me off, stepping back like she couldn't bear to be near me. "Explain why you locked me in a basement? Explain why you hung up on all my calls? Or explain why the night my brother died, you were fucking another woman?"
"Harper..." I forced the words out. "I know I was wrong. I know I hurt you. But—"
"No buts." A tear slid down her cheek, but she forced a smile. "Kirill, I'm happy now with my husband. Please don't harass me anymore."
Husband.
The word hit like ice water, head to toe.
I watched her turn. Watched her reach for Julian—that bastard holding his bruised face, still managing a smug smile.
"Let's go," she told Julian. "Ignore him."
Julian wrapped an arm around her waist, deliberately pausing as he passed me, leaning close to my ear.
"See you around, ex-husband."
