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“That look that says you want to do somethingillegalto anyone who gets too close to me.” Not that I hate that. I know that something might be wrong with me, but his obsession makes my body tingle. And I can’t tell him that. He would feel even freer to do slightly or totally immoral things in my name.

“Fucking hate this. I’d cancel today, but?—”

“It’s a marathon for paraplegic children. You need to go.” I wish I could go with him. I love this side of him. He supports various charities, mostly for kids. We all do, but Uri and Raph are the ones who show their faces and shake hands usually.

He shoves his chair back so abruptly, it screeches across the onyx black tiles.

“Didn’t you have breakfast? Is that why you are so temperamental this morning?” I ask sassily.

“That fucker is going to be there,” he growls.

My brows furrow. “Who?”

“Your colleague. Trent the fucker Dohner,” he snarls.

Ohhhh. I completely forgot about him. “Want some of my croissant? No?” I try to change the subject, which only seems to aggravate his mood more. His glare darkens further. “Stop being unreasonable, I need to go give the lecture, it’s for my job.”

“Unreasonable? You make my ego non-existent.”

“Good,” I state, taking another bite of the croissant from heaven.

“I’ll come pick you up,” he declares with finality, wiping some chocolate from the corner of my mouth before sucking on his finger.

“And be that guy who gets his boyfriend from work and kisses him in front of his colleagues so they know to keep their hands off?”

I see the smile stretching over his face as he mouths the word boyfriend.

I feel my cheeks turning red. That word just slipped out. But he seems quite happy with the title.

“Your boyfriend can’t piss on his territory.” He points at me—I’m his territory. “But that’s one way to get my point across, I suppose.”

Is he fucking serious? “Agh, no!” I say in a disgusted tone as he yanks me by the hand on top of him. I spread my fingers over his wide shoulders as I let him cop a feel of my lower back. He squeezes and then growls in my ear, giving it a sharp bite. Oh, shit. I’ve activated possessive, sociopathic Uriel.

“If I see Trent the fucker trying to touch what’s mine…” Trent the fucker, Rami is going to love the nickname. “I’ll cut his wrists,” he informs me. The threat doesn’t sound as gory as I expected. “And toss him in a piranha tank.” There it is.

I grin, not at the brutal and intimidating warning, but at his jealousy. It isn’t brotherly overprotectiveness. It’s my boyfriend’s possessiveness.

Happy laughter bursts from my chest before I seal my mouth over his. I gently pull the hoop around his lip with my teeth, and when I let go, I see something in his eyes. A dirty, dark, you-are-mine something that makes my dick stand to attention.

“And where are you going to find piranhas?” I mock him.

“I think I like this newfound side of you, feisty and snarky.” He rubs his hard dick against my ass, making me moan and establishing who’s in control again. Like I had any doubt about it.

“I’ll be there at the end of your lecture,” he promises.

“Okay. It’s a good cause, this charity. You’re amazing for doing this.”

“You know I can’t feel empathy for those kids.” He’s licking my neck right under my ear, leaving a very visible mark there—too high to cover with the turtleneck.

I know he mostly does those charity appearances to meet influential people and exploit them, to get something for himself, but also us. He thinks about his family. That’s why I like what he does even more. And that’s enough for me. It’s more than most people do.

“Four bodyguards will be with you at all times.”

Four? “One, Uri. I mean it. Otherwise, they will take the attention away from my lecture. I need people to stay focused.”

“The stalker is still out there.”

He’s right; the memory of those awful packages makes my skin crawl. But the stalker seems to have stopped. Did he get fed up?