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Beside me, Roman chuckles, probably because he knows this asshole just made a huge mistake.

I feel the edges of my lips twist up into a grin that I can only imagine is menacing, by the way the loser's face immediately changes. "You listen," I begin, my voice low and deep. "She asked you to leave. And unless you want to find out exactly who I am, I would listen to her.Capisce?"

He frowns, but there’s a hint of fear lingering in his eyes as he puts the pieces together. Slowly, he turns to Olivia. "You sure you want me to leave you with him?"

Before she has a chance to respond, I do it for her. "She's sure."

The man backs up, hands lifted. He spares one last glance at Olivia. "You have my number. Call me when you're ready."

"She won't," I snip, watching happily as he backs out of the bar, the chime overhead ringing as he leaves.

I take Olivia home myself,giving Roman the night off. Since the Serpents showed up at her bar, I've had extra men on both her and the house. I can't shake the need to protect her at all costs.

My chef makes us dinner, and we sit together at the dining room table, eating as if this is something we do every night. Like we're a normal couple.

I think I like it.

The idea of this being our new normal flashes through my mind, and I enjoy the images of us together, sharing stories about our days.

I've never imagined myself having something like that. A wife. A life.

And now I can't shake the thought.

But I also can't shake the knowledge that she has an ex she's never told me about. A little voice in my head counters that she doesn’t owe me that insight. It's not like this started out as a traditional relationship — whatever that means. But she hasn’t brought it up.

Is that why she came to New Orleans? Was she running from him?

He called her his fiancée. I grind my teeth at the recollection.

She's not his anything.

"Who is he?" I finally ask, holding my annoyance on a tight leash.

Olivia swallows her bite of pasta, setting her fork down gently. She looks up at me with shining blue eyes.

"He's no one."

"That's a lie."

"Just someone from my past."

"So not no one?" Frustration simmers under my words.

I stare at Olivia, waiting for a real answer. Her eyes dart away from mine, fingers fidgeting with her napkin. The silence stretches between us.

"Fine. His name is Rhett. We dated for three years in Montreal."

"Three years isn't just 'someone from your past,' Olivia." My voice comes out harder than intended. "He called you his fiancée."

She sighs, pushing her plate away. "Ex-fiancée. We were engaged for six months before I ended it."

"Why didn't you tell me about him?"

"Because it doesn't matter." Her eyes flash with defiance. "It was over long before I met you."

"Clearly not to him." I lean forward, my forearms on the table. "He flew all the way to New Orleans to find you."

"I didn't ask him to."