It starts with a laugh.

Her laugh.

Not at me—with him.

Some guy. Some nobody in a too-tight shirt and a face that screams “please break my nose.” He’s standing too close. Talking too much. Looking at her like he’s got a shot in hell.

He doesn’t. But I’m still gonna rip his throat out.

I’m across the room before I realize it, drink untouched, smile fake as fuck.

“Hey, baby,” I say casually, sliding a hand around her waist like it was always meant to be there—because it was. Her body reacts to me instantly, leaning in. But she’s confused. She doesn’t know yet. She hasn’t seen the storm.

I look at the guy. Really look at him. And he knows.

The laugh dies in his throat.

“Oh,” he says, trying to play it off. “You’re her—?”

“Everything,” I cut in. “I’m her everything.”

The guy chuckles, awkward, clearly not catching the run-for-your-life vibe I’m giving off.

I don’t like repeating myself, but this is an exception. I tilt my head, tone flat. “You got a problem with that?”

She steps in, hand on my chest like she’s trying to anchor me. “Nikolai—”

“Nah, it’s fine,” I say, even though it isn’t. My voice is calm. Deadly calm. “I’m chillin’. Having a great time, actually. Love watching people forget she’s mine.”

He takes the hint this time, finally, and mumbles something about needing another drink before backing off.

Smart choice.

She turns to me, exasperated. “You can’t intimidate every guy who talks to me.”

“Was I intimidating?” I shrug. “Weird. Thought I was just breathing.”

“Niko.”

I step closer, tilt her chin. “You want attention? I’ll give you attention. Just don’t make me watch someone else try.”

Because all her smiles, tears, her everything was all for me.