Zion was a short-tempered man, and you knew that. You also knew that when he lost his temper, there was nothing that could stop him—or prevent him from doing something he might regret. (He wouldn’t regret it, though.)

Now, seated in a very fancy restaurant with an ocean view—at the best seat in the entire place, of course—you were looking through the menu as he did.

The waiter who came to take your order almost completely ignored Zion, all his focus directed at you. And that wasn’t Zion’s problem—not exactly. He wasn’t that jealous of a man. But the waiter was shamelessly flirting with you.

In Zion’s defense, he tried to give subtle signs to back off, but that damn server just wouldn’t listen.

And… now the security was trying to pull Zion off that poor fool as he was being beaten. Hard. It wasn’t easy, not with how tight Zion’s grip was.

Then you spoke up, and his head snapped toward you. “If I were you, I wouldn’t say another damn word.” He grabbed the server by his hair and pulled him up with him. Then, with a scoff, he let him go and took a step toward you—his beautiful wife, who was nervously fidgeting with her hands.

He gently took your hands in his, though his words were anything but gentle.

“You shouldn’t say anything, okay? You’re gonna get your senses fucked out of you anyway, but don’t make me add another few rounds.” He patted your cheek and reached for his wallet.

Pulling out five hundred-dollar bills, he placed them on the table before roughly grabbing your arm. “For the trouble,” he said to the security. “We’ll discuss the rest in the next few days—after I buy this restaurant.” Then he led you out.

Yeah… handling situations like these wasn’t exactly his biggest strength—at least, not when it came to solving them in a civil way.