"Rosie, I'm sorry."
Ravić didn't even look at me when he said it. He was standing over the sink, his sleeves rolled up, exposing those veins on his forearms as he rinsed the blood from our glasses. Water hitting the glass with a sharp hiss, echoing through the quiet kitchen.
"I'm not letting you waltz into his club again."
I crossed my arms over my chest. "What makes you think I won't do it the moment you're gone?"
That got his attention. He sucked in a slow breath and finally turned to face me.
Our honeymoon was almost over. Just a few days left before he'd have to return back home to his work, while I'd restart my studies. The world was already pulling us in opposite directions again, and I hated it. Not to mention, I was also a little jealous that he'd get to be with our son.
"Because," he said, setting the clean glasses on the rack with a deliberate clink, "my men will be watching you. And they'll stop you before you try to do anything reckless."
