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The glare she gave me promised her husband's anger as she carefully peeled Alina from the couture wedding dress that I wasn't supposed to see.

Yeah, all of them were going to get shit from their wives and they would all happily pass that down to me.

Still, Damien and the others would have been far more pissed if I allowed them to stay, given my condition.

Not only could I not protect them, but I also didn’t want them freaking out over the amount of blood that was seeping into my shirt under my jacket.

There was only so long I could keep it hidden.

They had all seen their own husbands bleed, hell, a few of them were responsible for that blood.

I knew they weren't weak or squeamish.

None of them would faint at the sight.

But they knew I'd been on a mission with their husbands.

If they spotted my condition, then they would have worried about what might have happened to their men.

Kostya had explained once or twice that an annoyed wife was a pain in the ass, but far better that than a freaked-out wife.

A sentiment I didn't understand, but which Artem had wholeheartedly agreed with.

The moment the women left, I turned to Alina. "I ordered food. Wait for the guards to knock with the room service."

She nodded as she swapped the robe for the T-shirt and yoga pants I had given her for the girls' visit. I would have complained, but those pants hugged her ass in a way that made gods weep and reminded me of the first time I laid eyes on her.

And I had more pressing matters to attend to.

I headed to the bathroom, carefully pulling off my suit jacket.

The shirt underneath was soaked with blood. It was already sticking to the wound and drying around the edges. Taking it off was going to hurt like a bitch.

A sharp gasp at the door made me turn.

Alina stood there, her eyes wide and the color draining from her face.

Something close to concern flashed across her face.

It must have been the blood loss.

There was no way she was worried about me.

In time, maybe.

But for now, she didn't see me as a lover but rather as a jailor.

If that was what it took to protect her, then I would be her monster.

"Babygirl, you shouldn't see this. Go back to the other room. I'll be out in a moment, and we'll have dinner," I said, turning back to the mirror.

She didn't move, her gaze locked onto the blood.

"You're hurt."

"It's just a scratch."

It wasn't.