“Take the afternoon off, Hans,” I say into my cellphone. “I’m going to pick Amber up myself.”

“Thanks, boss,” Hans says. “I dropped her off near the bridge.”

“That’s not even on campus,” I say.

“She insisted,” Hans says apologetically. “She didn’t want her classmates to see her arriving in a limo.”

I roll my eyes. There’s no way she’s going to be able to keep this news from her classmates. Everyone is going to know by this afternoon. Nothing spreads faster than gossip, especially when it’s a secret engagement.

My lawyers said that will work in our favor, making the whole thing appear more legitimate. I’ll have to get Amber on board for all those tedious TV appearances, media interviews, and events. We need to be seen together as often as possible, the happy celebrity couple, the kind that people say “seems like a real couple” and “are made for one another.”

Picking Amber up myself today was part of that plan, but if she’s going to be hanging out near the bridge, no one is going to see us.

Though “being seen” was only part of my intention. I have barely seen Amber since the party, and I want to see her. Even though it’s a business arrangement, I find myself missing her, as stupid as that might sound.

The conversation I had with her on the bench in the garden made me feel something I hadn’t felt in a long time. I was talking openly and honestly with another person who didn’t know who I was. It was just two people holding a real conversation with neither wanting anything from the other besides talking. As conceited as it might sound, everyone always wants something from Liam Lions.

I cross the bridge and pull over, parking along the roadside.

I get out of the car and look around, but I don’t see Amber anywhere.

I wanted to surprise her by showing up in person, but I don’t have time to stand around worrying that I’m waiting in the wrong place.

Then I see her. She’s walking way faster than normal.

I wave, and she breaks into a run.

Heh, I guess she’s happy to see me.

It’s then I get a look at her face, and it looks like she’s crying.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, but then I see it. Or, I should say, I see him. The guy coming up fast behind her.

“He won’t leave me alone,” she says, breathless. She has a frantic look on her face.

I take her by the shoulders, squeeze her protectively, and lock eyes with her. “You’re safe. I’ll deal with this. Get in the car.”

I open the door, not looking away from her. She nods, and I help her into the car. I shut the door firmly behind her.

Then I shift my focus to the asshole, who is still charging toward me.

I start moving toward him. He’s a big guy, but I’m bigger. And stronger.

“You’ll never treat her as good as I will!” he says, jabbing a finger in my direction. “I don’t care how fucking rich you are!”

“Who the fuck are you?” I ask, stopping short of him. He’s about five feet away from me now, and he stops, too. Of course, he’s not willing to get any closer. He fears me. He should fear me.

He adjusts the collar of his shirt, straightens his posture, and says, “Valencia.” He stares me down, narrowing his eyes. “Anton Valencia.”

I laugh. “You think you’re fucking James Bond? With that cheap shirt?”

His eyes widen in fury, and he thrusts a finger at me. “You think you can buy everything in the world! But Amber is too good for you, you fucking asshole! I know how you treat women! I read all about it, your ex-girlfriend faked her own death just to get away from you!”

“Did you spend all morning reading my Wikipedia page or something?” I ask, scoffing. “I’m guessing you don’t even have a Wikipedia page, so sorry, I don’t know shit about you. All I know is you need to get fucking lost, and if you so much as look at my fiancée again, I’ll beat the shit out of you.”

I’m famous for my temper, and it’s flaring hot right now. I know I’m crossing a line I shouldn’t, but fuck this guy for making Amber cry.

He takes a lunging step toward me.

All right, he’s either crazy, or he’s got brass balls. Neither of which are going to get me to back off.

“I’ll fight you,” he says.

I look at him like he’s an idiot. He is an idiot.

“Fight me?” I ask. “Even if you won--which you wouldn’t--she’s not going--”

He takes a swing at me, and I dodge it effortlessly.

He put some serious weight into the punch, and his body flies right past me as I step aside.

If I was really trying to insult the guy, I’d take my time with this, but I don’t have time for this shit. Aside from that, I just want him to get a very clear message: Stay the fuck away from Amber. The clearest way to deliver that message is with a solid and efficient takedown.

I slam his ribs with an uppercut just as he passes by me, and it sends him sprawling back and off-balance.

Before he can even react, I’m on top of him, and I slam a solid fist right into his jaw.

He tips backward and collapses to the ground.

I hear the car door open behind me. “Liam, don’t!”

I put a hand back, signaling for Amber to stay the hell back.

“Relax,” I say. “He’s down. And he’s not going to as much as look at you again. Right, Anton?”

“Amber said I should go to class again!” he shouts through a bloodied lip. He’s holding his hands up to defend his face; the fight is beaten out of him.

I look at Amber and cock an eyebrow.

“That was before he chased after me and scared the shit out of me,” Amber says.

“Drop the class,” I hiss down at him. “If you see Amber on campus, you turn around and walk the other way. Got it?”

“But--”

I kick him in the ribs, right where I punched him earlier. He wails.

“Got it?” I shout.

“I got it!” he squeals in agony.

I turn my back to him and get into the car.

“Jesus,” Amber says. “You didn’t have to--”

“I did,” I say. “Even if you’re not really my fiancée, no one treats you like that. You shouldn’t have to feel scared while you’re engaged to me.”

“You hit him really hard…” Amber says.

“Better than him eventually hurting you. Guys like that are ticking time bombs. I just defused him.”

“Where did you learn to fight like that?” she asks.

“I took judo in high school. I was really into it.”

“Isn’t judo like, throwing people?”

I shrug. “Yeah, but throwing him around wasn’t going to send the right message. Sometimes you just have to punch a guy square in the face.”

I expect her to roll her eyes, or give me a hard time, but she just slouches down in her seat and lets out a deep, relieved sigh. “Thanks, Liam.”

“No need to thank me,” I say, shifting the car into first gear and driving toward the bridge in the direction of the city.