The man’s eyes flick to Maxim for half a second before returning to me with a smirk. “He doesn’t seem to mind. Come on, sweetheart?—”
His hand lands on my waist.
“Take your hands off me,” I say sharply.
He doesn’t. Instead, he tightens his grip, still smiling like this is some kind of game.
Before I can react, Maxim’s voice cuts through the music like ice.
“You heard the lady,” he says, dangerously calm. “Take your fucking hands off her.”
The man turns, scoffing. “Who the hell are you?”
Maxim steps in front of me, his presence suddenly overwhelming. “Every second you still have your hands on my wife is another second you’re digging your own grave. Remove it. Now.”
The man must finally see the danger in Maxim’s eyes because he starts to pull back, muttering, “Relax, man, I didn’t mean?—”
Too late.
In one fluid motion, Maxim grabs the man’s wrist, slams his hand down onto the bar, and drives a knife straight through it, pinning it to the wooden surface.
The man screams.
The entire bar goes silent for a split second before chaos erupts. People gasp and back away. The man is howling in pain, blood pooling on the bar.
Security rushes over, but the moment they see Maxim, they freeze. Instead of confronting him, they immediately apologize.
“Sorry, Mr. Orlov. We’ll handle this.”
They grab the screaming man and drag him away while he cries about calling the police.
I turn to Maxim, heart racing. “I think that’s our cue to go home.”
“You bet,” he grinds out.
The moment we’re back in the car, I let out a long breath.
“You didn’t have to go that far,” I say, glancing at him. “Were you that jealous?”
Maxim scoffs, starting the engine. “I don’t get jealous. Jealousy is an emotion I’m not familiar with. I don’t waste my time with it. I was simply protecting what’s mine. No one disrespects my wife. That disrespect is aimed at me.”
I laugh softly, watching his clenched jaw. “Of course. You’re not jealous at all.”
He gives me a sharp sideways look that only makes me laugh harder.
My husband definitely has a jealous streak.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Calina
When we finally get back home, Viktor is already waiting in the foyer, his face grim and tense. He gives Maxim a small nod and his eyes flick to me briefly before looking away.
After we've exchanged pleasantries, I don’t linger. “I’ll go change,” I murmur, heading upstairs.
Instead of going straight to the bedroom, I pause at the top of the stairs. I can hear their voices drifting up from the hallway below. I creep closer to the railing, careful not to make a sound.
“…swept your office looking for any recording devices,” Viktor is saying. “Found none. But I did find something else.”
