The hickeys Marcus had left the night before throbbed faintly under Elena’s clothes the next day, a secret map of possession hidden beneath her sweater. Every brush of fabric against them sent little sparks through her, keeping her constantly aware of him. Breakfast had been tense again—Victoria chatting obliviously while Marcus’s eyes kept drifting to Elena with that lingering jealous fire.

By evening, the tension had built to a breaking point.

Marcus found her in the home gym after Victoria had gone to bed. Elena was on the treadmill, trying to burn off the restless energy, when he stormed in, closing the door behind him with more force than necessary....