It was no surprise that Javier didn't like bringing you to fancy bars — you were exquisite, and he was a jealous man.

His hand on your hip was possessive and tight; just how you liked it. His calloused fingers tugged at the lavished material of your dress, as if afraid you'd disappear any second.

He silently complained about the swoon looks other men gave you. "It infuriates me, mi alma." He huffed, clinging onto you tighter.