The night market buzzed with neon lights and lively chatter. Ethan Roscente pushed through the crowd, his gaze instantly locking onto Jenna Roland surrounded by giggling girls.

"Hey handsome, can I get your number?" A redhead batted her lashes, leaning too close.

Jenna flashed her practiced customer-service smile. "Sure! My brother's actually single—"

Ethan's expression darkened. He strode forward and yanked Jenna against his side.

"She's my wife."

Silence crashed over the group.

Jenna's eyes widened, lips parting like a startled rabbit.

The girls froze, then erupted.

"Married? What a liar!"

"Playing games with people?"

"Disgusting!"

As insults flew, the crowd dispersed. Jenna paled, stealing a glance at Ethan.

His chiseled face was stormy, eyes brewing danger.

"Why...why'd you say that?" She shrank back, voice fading.

Ethan caged her against the stall wall, forearm braced beside her head. His breath scorched her cheek.

"I don't have a girlfriend?" The low threat vibrated between them.

She ducked her chin. "It's just business..."

"So you tell them I'm single?" His lids lowered to slits.

"Well...you don't have a girlfriend." Her mutter barely carried. "We're married..."

"Jenna!" His jaw clenched audibly.

Nearby vendors perked up, ears practically twitching.

She twisted her fingers. "It's not like you wanted this marriage anyway."

A vein throbbed at Ethan's temple. His fist slammed into the wall beside her head.

"Last warning." His whisper seared her ear. "Remember your place."

Heat flooded Jenna's face. She turned away stubbornly, only to hear his scoff as he stalked off.

The night breeze carried away his lingering warmth. Watching his retreating figure, her pulse stuttered inexplicably.