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John Marco makes a strangled noise into his wine glass, while a growl rumbles in my throat.

I see what she's doing.

This is not a woman who forgot to be elegant or misunderstood my instructions.

This is a woman who knew the instructions but decided to crumple them into a ball and set them on fire.

But why?

What has made my wife so mad that she’s ready to declare war on me?

Yesterday, she was letting down her armor and making me lasagna. Tonight, she is itching for a fight.

Then I remember it’s Friday, and a smile tugs at my lips because Friday means one thing.

Chantelle.

Clearly, my ex-housekeeper ignored the message I sent her two days ago, telling her I no longer need her services, and decided to show up anyway.

And whatever she said to Sunny lit the fuse I'm now sitting under.

Sunny is jealous.

And she’s jealous enough to put on thigh-high boots, slip into a plunging dress, march into a room of armed criminals, sit on my lap, and call me baby.

Well, goddamn.

Jealousy means she cares. And caring means I've gotten under her skin the same way she's gotten under mine. And damn, that feels nice.

She winds her arms around my neck and kisses me. No doubt for the benefit of every man in this room. A performance designed to send a message. That she can’t be controlled.

But two can play that game.

So I kiss her back.

Not soft. Not tender. I grab the back of her neck, pulling her into me and kissing her like I've been thinking about nothing else for twenty-four hours.

I kiss her hard and deep. My tongue pushes past her lips, and she moans, which tells me she wasn't expecting this.

Or my cock.

Which is directly beneath her ass and hardening so fast it's almost painful, and I know there is no way she can't feel it.

But she recovers fast, and her fingers slide into the hair at the back of my head as she kisses me back.

I pull back. Not far. Just enough to see her face.

Her eyes are dilated, her cheeks are flushed, and she's looking at me like she forgot where she was.

"Don't apologize for being late, baby," I say. "You're worth the wait."

She tries to stand.

But I close my arm around her waist and hold her in place.

"No, baby," I say, my mouth close to her ear. "You can stay right there."

I shift my hips just enough to press my hard length against the thin fabric between her thighs, and my hands slide to her hips so I can hold her where I want her.