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I wasn’t certain whether the words had gotten through to her, but she tilted her head even more. “Who is Fassi? I know his title, but who is he really?”

“Mocro Maffia. Former militia turned rogue, killing everyone in his unit.”

“A Moroccan with everything to gain.” She already knew that but seemed to be mulling over ideas.

“Exactly. The boss. Word on the street is that he’s gunning for your territory as well as mine. But if successful, he won’t stop there.”

“Then he managed to get wind of our upcoming nuptials and decided why not combine efforts.”

“Yes, which is why you’re staying right here. No more shopping trips.”

“And the wedding plans?” she asked incredulously.

Sighing, I reached out to her, but she flinched, which infuriated me. “I’ll handle it. We’ll go according to plans, but with more caution.”

Risky as hell.

“Right,” she laughed. “I bet you will. That’s between the times you go hunting. What do you think you’ll catch in that blood-coated trap of yours?”

“Whatever fallout is possible, it must be done. He’ll strike again, but I will protect you.”

Her stare without blinking was entirely different than before.

“You lost someone dear to you. I can feel it in my bones, all the way deep into my soul. I understand how horrible that must be for you. I get it. You refuse to lose someone again. Somehow, you think that by keeping me locked away inside this… prison I’ll be safe. I’m not as worried about Fassi or whatever Turkish asshole pulls a gun in my face.”

“Well, you should be.”

She took a step closer and stopped. “The person I’m most anxious of is you.”

I had no idea what to say to her. “So be it.”

The tension was thicker than before.

“I’m not scared of you like everyone else is, Jago. You can act like a fevered child all you want, but I can see right through your bluster and anger. You can protect me without suffocating me. As lovely as this castle is, I can’t live behind thick prison walls for the rest of my life.”

“You will do as I say!” I instantly regretted my outburst. The look of anger on her face shifted to one of pain.

She stormed toward the door, determined to be rid of me.

“Genevieve. Wait. Please.”

Her sigh was heavy and exaggerated. “Why?”

“Because I asked you to.” I moved closer to my desk as I peeled off the tee shirt, tossing it on the wood.

She had a look on her face that defied anger and hatred. “I don’t think so.”

“Please.” I turned around and faced the window, allowing her to take a good look at my back.

“What?”

“Come closer.”

It took her a full thirty seconds to decide whether to honor me with doing so. When she did, I could tell her steps were hesitant. “What do you want, Jago?”

“Take a good look at my back. You felt the scars before. You caressed them when we were making love. Now take a good look at them. Touch them.”

I tilted my head until I could see her face. She darted her eyes in my direction but came closer. “They’re horrible.”