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Politicians stood beside businessmen. Lawyers spoke quietly with men whose names appeared in police files. Wealthy investors drank champagne beside people who’d built their fortunes through businesses that existed mainly on paper.

They all knew who I was. Sofia walked beside me in a dress that immediately drew attention. She knew people were watching her, but she didn’t allow any discomfort to show. She greeted people politely, answered questions when necessary, and carried herself with a confidence that surprised even me.

I watched several men look at her for longer than they should have. My first instinct was violent, but I kept it under control. One man in particular approached her while I was speaking with a business associate. His eyes remained on her throughout the conversation, and irritation tightened every muscle in my body.

Sofia noticed. She glanced at me briefly, almost as though she knew exactly what was happening inside my head. I forced myself to remain still. This wasn’t a street corner or a petty dispute. These people were watching me as closely as I was watching them. Any sign of instability would become weakness.

I placed a hand lightly against Sofia’s back and guided her away when the conversation ended. She looked at me. I said nothing, and neither did she.

Later, I moved through the room while men who normally considered themselves powerful lowered their voices when I approached. They deferred to my decisions, asked for my opinion, and made it clear that my influence extended much further than my public reputation suggested.

Sofia watched all of it, and I wondered what she thought. Then I noticed the empty space near the entrance. Sokolov had been expected, but he never came. That bothered me more than his presence would have.

A man like Viktor Sokolov didn’t avoid an event like this without a reason. If he wanted to send a message, he would have made an appearance. His absence meant he’d chosen something else. Sokolov knew Sofia mattered to me. And tonight, for reasons I couldn’t explain, he’d decided not to show up. I had to take that as a warning.

By the time we returned to the penthouse, Sofia had barely spoken to me all night. I knew something was wrong before she even removed her coat. She walked into the living room, placed her bag on the table, and turned toward me with an expression that made it clear she’d been holding her anger throughout the entire drive home.

“I want to go out tomorrow,” she said. “Without security.”

“No.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I want to leave this building without six men following me everywhere I go.”

“That isn’t happening.”

She stared at me in disbelief. “You don’t get to decide that.” Her expression hardened. “You have guards outside the apartment, guards downstairs, and security every time I leave. You call that protection, but I call it imprisonment.”

“You’re being protected because Sokolov is still a threat.”

“You keep using this Sokolov guy as an excuse to control me. Come off it already. It’s getting old.”

“He isn’t an excuse.” My jaw tightened. “You’re pregnant, Sofia. He already tried to take you. I’m not going to pretend the danger has disappeared because you’re tired of seeing security around you.”

She laughed bitterly. “You don’t understand. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life being watched because you decided I belong to you.”

“You do belong to me,” I countered, trying to keep my temper under control. “You nearly got yourself killed.” The words came out harder than I’d intended. “You kept walking into danger without thinking about what would happen if the wrong person noticed you.”

Her eyes flashed with anger. “Don’t you dare lecture me about danger. You are the danger, Ronan.”

I went still. She took another step toward me.

“You murdered my father. You lied to me. You forced me into this marriage, and now you’re telling me that every decision you make is for my protection. Do you have any idea what that feels like?”

“Yes. I know exactly what it feels like to be responsible for someone else’s suffering.”

She shook her head. “Then stop making me suffer.”

The words struck somewhere I didn’t have the strength to defend. For a moment, neither of us spoke, and then she reached for me. I didn’t know whether she meant to push me away or pull me closer. I only knew that when her hand touched my chest, every ounce of restraint I’d been holding on to disappeared.

I caught her around the waist and kissed her. There was nothing gentle about it. She kissed me back with the same anger that had filled the room only seconds earlier, and the resentment between us became tangled with an attraction neither of us could bury.

We were both angry, both wounded, and both still drawn to each other despite everything that should have made that impossible.

The kiss became rougher as everything we couldn’t say turned into something physical. I tried unzipping her dress, but it got stuck. The anger I felt heightened until I ripped off the dress with my bare hands, pushing her face down onto the bed. My mouth watered when I saw that she was already wet. Despite all the anger, resentment, and hatred, she was still dripping for me.

My grip on her hips was unrelenting as I dragged her up onto her hands and knees. My fingers tangled in her hair, yanking her head back and forcing a gasp out of her throat. I was hard and unsympathetic.

I buried my cock inside her, barely wasting a second before punishing her with merciless thrusts, speeding up the pace with every slam of my hips against hers. She whimpered and moaned, at a loss for words. My grip on her hair tightened, pulling at her scalp as I fucked her pussy like it was specially designed for my cock.