Chapter 2

Julian had a long knife scar, tracing from his eyebrow down to his cheekbone.

It was still bleeding freely.

Looking at it now, it only added a touch of savagery to his otherwise refined and handsome face.

I reached for some gauze to dab at his wound, but he caught my wrist.

“Anya, have I been too lenient with you all these years, hmm?”

His fingers traced my pulse point, lingering.

That’s just how he was; all his ruthlessness and threats hidden beneath tender gestures.

I lowered my eyes.

“Lenient? I don’t think so.”

He chuckled softly, his thumb rubbing my radial bone, light and languid.

“Really? Then why did you call so many people to my house…?”

“Someone might think I’m running a mob.”

As if he *wasn’t* a mob boss.

He clawed his way up from a life of constant violence and bloodshed, his empire built on a mountain of bodies and broken lives.

Oh, but now he’d gone legit, transformed into a celebrated young entrepreneur.

The newspapers were full of praise, calling him a rising star.

It made me sick to my stomach.

“Who’s the girl you brought back?”

I didn’t struggle hard, just enough for him to release my hand.

And successfully changed the subject.

But he simply arched an eyebrow, carefully avoiding my gaze.

“None of your business.”

He stood up, taking the gauze from my hand, then leaned down to press a kiss on the corner of my lips.

“You have time to worry about what woman I bring home…”

“But no time to worry about how I got this wound, huh?”

He finished, biting my neck lightly, almost as punishment.

“All that effort for nothing.”