Sparrow(43)

Oh, hell no.

"The f*ck happened to you?" I emptied my glass in one swig and pointed at him with it. His eyes darted straight to my wife, as if the answer depended on her. My attention moved to Sparrow.

She looked confused and furious, scurrying to the corner of the living room. She was blushing again and didn’t even do her usual routine of glaring at me disapprovingly for drinking at ungodly hours. Something had happened between these two, and an uneasy feeling settled in my stomach.

"Nothing," Connor said in a tight voice.

She pointed her cell in his direction. "I threw my phone in his face," she announced, not a hint of apology to her tone.

I squared my shoulders and shoved a tensed hand into my pocket, knowing I'd need to keep it there if I didn't want to add more color to Connor’s already bruised face. "Care to elaborate?"

Maria walked back into the living room just then, looking all kinds of interested in the new drama. I think she got off on knowing that I had bullshit to deal with in my personal life. Especially as she held me responsible for her daughter’s own mess. Throwing her out was tempting, but Sparrow seemed ridiculously attached to the help, and she was already too pissed off for me to deal with, so I let Maria stay, doing my best to ignore her.

"He grabbed me by the elbow in front of my friends and now I have a mark." Sparrow stretched out her arm, exhibiting a thick, purple-green ring around her snowy skin.

My jaw tightened.

She yanked her arm back and narrowed her eyes at me. "I know that you think that you rule me, own me, that you can destroy me. But I’m not scared. I'm not going to be pushed around by you or your staff. And I am not going to be touched by anyone without my permission." She spewed her words out like hot lava. Her eyes, aflame with rage, burnt my skin everywhere they landed.

I took one leisurely step in her direction, every inch of my body itching with the need to launch at Connor and smash his skull on the granite tiles. I brushed my knuckles against her bruised skin.

She jerked away and hissed like a snake. “That includes you, Troy.”

So Red didn't mind riding my face like a cowgirl, but still had trouble letting me touch her in front of Connor and Maria. I was beginning to see a little bit of me in her.

"Go upstairs and pack a bag," I ordered, pretending that it didn't sting when she rejected me in front of my two employees.

Maria grinned, getting her money’s worth, and turned on her heel, back to the kitchen sink.

"I’m not going anywhere. Not until you tell me why, when, where and how,” Sparrow demanded. “Oh, and FYI, I don't even have your phone number. No driver’s license either, so good luck with getting me on that plane. Guess it’s not as easy as you think, bossing me around. You should've really thought about it before..."

She was rambling, and I wanted to press my index finger to her lips and shut her up. But I knew better than to try touching her again. Instead, I raised my hand to cut through her stream of babbling.

“This is the last time I’m going to ask nicely. Go upstairs and pack your shit, understood?”

She stopped talking, her eyebrows flying up in outrage, flipped me the finger, and turned around and climbed upstairs. It was only when I heard her slamming drawers in the bedroom, no doubt to make a point, that I realized how worried I was that she wouldn’t do as I said. Red had fight in her. She was the kind of woman to lead a revolution, not to be kept in a luxury penthouse with a cheating husband.

I was clipping her wings, and I knew it.

Squinting at Connor and feeling the familiar eye-twitch I got every time I wanted to yank someone’s heart out of their chest, I turned my whole body to face him. Up until Sparrow, he was my part-time muscle guy when I required one. He received clear instructions and was paid to act, not to think.

Shortly before we got married, I’d hired him full time to keep an eye on my new wife. Honestly, Connor wasn’t there to keep her safe—no one would go after her. I wasn’t in the mob and even if I were, the underworld didn’t involve wives and children when retaliation was needed. I kept Connor on her tail because I didn’t want her to run away and f*ck up everything I’d worked hard to achieve. To make sure I always knew her whereabouts. She was safe without him, but I didn’t want her to know that.

I wanted her small and scared.

What I hadn't taken into consideration was the fact that like most muscle guys, Connor had very little brain to accompany his impressive size. And so, by trying to protect our fake marriage, I’d paired her with an idiot who hurt her.

"Boss…" Connor lifted one sweaty, trembling palm. His face looked like a ball of wrinkled paper, his glistening eyes begging for forgiveness.

I had none to spare. Connor now raised both hands up in surrender, walking backward while I strode toward him until his back hit the wall. His head banged against the polished concrete with a thud.

He was too scared to notice. "You wanted her to get here as soon as possible, and she was stalling on purpose. Then she tried to run away. I had no other option."

“When you poke a bear, Connor…” My voice was low, smooth and threatening. “Prepare to be bitten.”

Stepping into his face, I curled my fingers around his neck and pinned his head to the wall. I squeezed his throat experimentally, watching his eyes bug out, pain and horror dripping from them. I wanted to leave him marked like he left his dirty fingers all over Sparrow’s arm.