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She lifts her gaze. "Maybe I would’ve told you. Maybe I wouldn’t have. But I didn’t want to ruin tonight by thinking about it, let alone bring it up."
"Okay," I say.
"Okay?"
"You're right. I am overprotective. My first instinct is to protect, but that has only caged you."
She stares at me like I've started speaking Latin.
"Who are you, and what have you done with my husband?"
"He's still here. He'd currently like to burn down a city block. But he's listening. He hears you."
She melts closer to me.
"Thank you," she whispers.
"But don’t think I’m going to compromise on your safety,” I warn her softly. “As of this minute, you have a personal bodyguard you’re taking everywhere with you. His name is Freddie. And before you say it, he's not a leash. He's the wall of protection I need you to have wherever you go." I tuck a loose lock of hair behind her ear. "You'll like him. I promise."
"Freddie," she says.
"Freddie."
"And the man from this morning? Who was he?"
He's no one.
It would be easy to brush her off with the lie.
But I've just told her I'm listening, and I can't say it and then hand her a lie in the same breath.
"Anton Grazalov," I say. "He runs the bratva in this city. And I run the family he's trying to take it from."
I watch her face. Waiting for her to understand what I’m saying.
She goes very still against me. “You’re the head of the family?”
“Yes.”
She swallows. “The big boss?”
“The big boss,” I say with a smile. I lean in. “And feel free to call me that anytime you like.”
She laughs happily, and I know I want to hear that sound every day for the rest of my life.
But then fierce protectiveness swoops in, and I think about Anton and want to burn his world to the ground.
"If you see him again," I say, "you don't wait to tell me. You run, and then you tell me. Understood?"
She nods. "Understood."
Despite feeling a hot rage moving slowly and quietly in my veins, I smile. "That’s my girl."
She slides her hand from my shoulder to the back of my neck.
"You know," she murmurs, "for a blackmailing kidnapper, you're turning out to be a pretty decent husband."
"That’s high praise coming from my lock-cracking shirt thief."
