“I should go,” I said again. Nikolai didn’t move, just stood there staring at me for a long second. When he did adjust his stance, it was to lift his arm, his hand extending toward me, his fingers so close to the tendrils of my hair that had come down for my updo. I held my breath, about to move out of the way, when suddenly there was a darkened shape taking form behind Nikolai, a massive shadow growing behind him that had everything stilling in me.

And then Nikolai was suddenly away from me, his big body no longer blocking my way, the shelf suddenly shaking behind me, some of the books falling to the ground as Nikolai’s body slammed against the aged wood.

I stared at Arlo with wide eyes as he wrapped his fist around Nikolai’s thick throat, his bicep bulging under his tuxedo as he lifted Nikolai up slightly, keeping him pressed to the bookcase.

Arlo started whispering low and deep, his words a menacing rush of Russian. I couldn’t understand him, but I could feel the danger circling Arlo and the very real threat that he’d kill this man without a second thought if provoked even more.

“You actually tried touching what was mine, Nikolai?” Arlo seethed in English. “I should cut your hand off because you thought you had a right to.” He leaned in an inch and bared his teeth. “I should take your eyes out for even looking at her.”

I felt how wide my eyes were as I took in the scene before me, but although any normal man would have pissed his pants just being in the same room with Arlo, Nikolai wasn’t struggling, wasn’t fighting back. Although his face was turning red as he stared Arlo right in the eyes, his lips stretched wide over his straight, white teeth, his sadistic grin and the way he leaned into Arlo’s grasp telling me he felt no fear right now. He might even enjoy this, got off on it.

I shouldn’t have interjected, but I placed my hand on Arlo’s bulging bicep, knowing things needed to de-escalate. The survival part of me said not to get involved right now, that it was like getting in the middle of two dogs in a brutal fight. But if anyone could ease things and bring Arlo back, I knew it was me.

“Let’s go,” I whispered softly, and he looked at me right away. He held my gaze for long seconds, as if he was in this internal battle, his hand still wrapped around Nikolai’s throat, his knuckles white from how hard he pressed against his trachea.