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“I’m on my way.”

I end the call before he can say anything else. Maxim watches me with raised eyebrows. “What happened?”

“My wife is at Red Lips.”

He lets out a low whistle. “Whoa. I like her even more now.”

I give him a look that makes his grin falter.

I push to my feet and head for the door, already pulling out my phone to call the driver. Maxim follows, still looking far too amused by the situation.

The moment we arrive at the club, I move toward the entrance with enough urgency that Maxim has to quicken his pace to keep up with me.

“Calm down,” he calls after me, sounding far too amused.

I ignore him and push through the doors. The club is packed, music pounds through the room, and bodies move everywhere I look. Then I see Aurora.

She's on the dance floor, moving to the rhythm with a smile on her face. Her dress is shorter and more revealing than anything I’ve seen her wear before, though it isn’t inappropriate. It hugs her body, shows a little cleavage, and leaves enough bare skin to make my blood pressure climb.

And as if that isn’t enough, some idiot is standing far too close to her, trying to get her attention. I swear under my breath and head straight for them.

“Boss,” her bodyguard says, approaching me.

I don't spare him a look. “You're fired.”

The crowd seems to sense me coming. People step aside without being asked, creating a path across the dance floor. The man beside Aurora looks over his shoulder, sees me, and immediately disappears into the crowd.

Aurora doesn’t notice me until I’m standing in front of her.

The moment she looks up and sees me, the smile on her face falters. Her eyes widen, and for a second, she looks almost guilty.

“Oh.” She glances around nervously. “You’re here.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

She shifts on her feet, suddenly fascinated by the floor. “I… I didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”

“Why are you here?”

Her gaze flickers toward the dance floor before returning to me. “Your meeting ended early?”

I stare at her. “That wasn’t the question I asked you.”

She gives me a small, tentative smile. “I just wanted to see what it was like.” She gestures vaguely around us. “I’ve never been to a club before.”

Her voice is quieter now, almost sheepish. The nervous way she keeps glancing around makes it obvious she still doesn't know what to make of the place.

Something twists in my chest. Sometimes I forget just how innocent my wife is. If she had simply asked, I would have brought her myself. I would have cleared a private section, controlled the environment, and let her experience it safely. And I definitely wouldn't have allowed her to step out dressed like that.

My gaze drops over her, and my jaw tightens. The dress clings to every curve, leaving far too much of her exposed. Every second we stand here is another second I have to restrain myself from walking over and permanently removing the ability of every bastard currently staring at my wife to look at anything ever again.

I would have loved to stay. Hell, I would have loved to dance with her and watch her enjoy herself. But not while she's dressed like this, and not when I already have plans for us tonight.

Plans that don't involve sharing her attention, or allowing half the men in Florida to have it.

She reaches for my hand. “Come dance with me.”

I blink. “What?”