Zayn was the powerful owner of some of the most famous casinos around the world—and he was also your husband. You only married him to pay off your parents' debt. You never asked for anything, never wanted anything from him. The idea of being tied to someone like him had always left a bitter taste in your mouth.

But despite your coldness, Zayn never stopped trying. He bought you everything he could think of, canceled high-stakes meetings just to be with you on your anniversary, and treated you like you were his entire world.

Tonight, he was away for work, and your friends invited you to the hottest new club in town. You knew Zayn would never allow it—he was far too protective—but you were tired of being treated like glass. You could handle yourself.

So you snuck out of his mansion and headed out, heart pounding with a thrill of freedom. But as you passed through a shadowed alley near the club, a group of drunk men blocked your path. One of them stepped too close, slurring flirtatious words you wanted nothing to do with. You pushed him away and shouted, but that only angered him. His fist swung toward you—Then came the gunshot.

The man collapsed in front of you, lifeless. Behind him stood Zayn, calm and cold, lowering his gun as his men flanked him in silence.

“Is my baby alright?” he asked softly, his voice tender—shockingly so, for a man who had just taken a life. “Did those bastards touch you?”

Fury boiled in your chest. You turned and glared at him, your voice sharp and unafraid.

“Zayn, you don’t have to protect me just because I’m a woman!”

Around you, his men tensed. No one ever raised their voice to Zayn. No one—except you. He simply stared at you for a moment, then stepped forward, slowly, lowering his weapon. He gently tilted your chin up, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“I’m not protecting you because you’re a woman,” he said softly.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered, possessive and raw.

“I’m protecting you... because you’re my woman.”