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I feel the cold edge of anger settle in my veins.

“And what was your response?” I ask, voice low.

“The same thing I told him at Mabel’s wedding,” she says firmly. “I’m not interested.”

I study her face for a long moment, searching for any flicker of doubt or lingering attachment. I find none.

Only nervousness. Only fear of how I’ll react. I reach out and brush my thumb across her cheek.

“Good,” I murmur. “Because you’re mine now, Rosie. And I don’t share what’s mine.”

She swallows, eyes wide.

I lean in closer. “And if Luke ever tries to come between us again… he will learn exactly why they call me the Devil.”

She looks up at me, eyes wide and uncertain. “So… you aren’t mad?”

I exhale slowly. “I can understand why you were scared of me four years ago. After you found out who I really was, any sane person would run. But what I don’t understand is why you haven’t told me since we got back together.”

She rolls her eyes, that familiar spark of defiance flashing across her face. “You got me against my will, remember? I was too busy trying to run from you.”

I can’t help the smirk that pulls at my lips. “I take it that means you no longer want to run?”

“I never said that,” she shoots back quickly.

I close the distance between us in two strides, crowding her against the wall. My hand comes up to cup her jaw, thumb brushing over her lower lip.

“Well,” I murmur, “you can keep trying to run, plamya. I will always catch you.”

Her breath catches. I hold her gaze for another beat. “Now, go get ready for bed, I have somewhere to be.”

“Where are you going?”

“To go have a word with my nephew.”

I head downstairs, grab my keys, and get into the car.

I can’t believe it.

Luke, the same man I wanted to put a bullet in four years ago for breaking Rosie’s heart, is the one who cheated on her with her own stepsister. And now, knowing she’s married to me, he still had the audacity to try and get her back? To tell her he’s divorcing Sharon for her? To offer to “protect” her from me?

The boy has always been reckless, but this… this is next-level stupidity.

Everyone with even one working brain cell knows better than to put their eyes on what belongs to me. Especially Luke.

Maybe I’ve been too lenient with him over the years. Letting him play at being a man while I cleaned up behind him. Letting him think the Popov name would protect him no matter what foolish decisions he made.

Well, I’m about to remind my nephew exactly who I am.

I pull up to the sleek high-rise where Luke lives and hand the keys to the valet without a word. The doorman spots me immediately. He gives a quick, respectful nod, eyes fixed firmly on the marble floor instead of meeting mine.

The elevator ride to the penthouse is silent. When the doors open on Luke’s floor, I step out and head straight for his door. Even from the hallway, I can hear the screaming.

I don’t bother knocking. I try the handle—it’s unlocked—and push the door open.

Inside, Luke and Sharon are going at it full volume, both red-faced and gesturing wildly. They’re so wrapped up in their shouting match that neither of them notices me stepping into the apartment.

“You’re asking for a divorce so you can go be with that bitch, aren’t you?!” Sharon shrieks, voice shrill enough to cut glass.