“Jesus fucking Christ,” I mutter, dragging my slacks up and buttoning them with a snap as your voice echoes down the hall.

Clara’s heels are clicking like gunfire against the marble, and your footsteps are hot on her trail—along with some very creative insults.

Clara’s just some random, easy girl I met at a bar. A cheap distraction.

You and I have been… a thing for around seven months now. Not long in the grand scheme, but long enough that you know who I am—what I am. You’ve seen my world, looked it dead in the eye without flinching. Men strapped with weapons don’t even make you blink anymore. You know how I operate, how I think. Hell, you probably know my tells better than I do.

And now, I suppose, you’ve learned about my commitment issues too.

I sigh, sharp and annoyed, and stride out of the bedroom. The hallway is filled with your fury and Clara’s angry and slightly panicked screeching, both spilling down the grand staircase like blood in water.

“Baby—” my voice cuts through the chaos, hard and low. One tattooed hand rakes through my hair as I move fast, boots hitting the floor like thunder. “Calm the fuck down.”

The last thing I need is one of my soldiers hearing this mess and figuring out exactly what went down. Affairs, rage, and screaming matches with the woman I might actually give a shit about? That’s not the kind of weakness I can afford. Not in this life.

Not with eyes always watching.