And then I see her.
Draped in some slip of a dress, candlelight caressing every inch of bare skin, a glass of champagne in her delicate fucking hand as she tilts her head back in laughter.
Archibald is standing too close, and she looks practically fucking naked. I’ve never been the caveman type. I always believed a woman’s body is her own business, and I’ve met few who hold my attention long enough to care. That was before I met Martine.
His hand hovers near her hip.
I see red.
I move before I think, before reason can intervene, if reason ever could. I cross the room swiftly, grabbing Archibald's hand and wrenching it away from her before my fingers close around her wrist.
The laughter dies. Her body stiffens.
She turns slowly, eyes locking onto mine, and there it is. The satisfaction is clear as day.
No surprise. No fear.
She wanted this reaction from me, the greedy girl.
My grip tightens, not enough to bruise, not yet, but enough to remind her exactly who she belongs to.
Her lips part slightly, like she’s about to speak. I don’t give her the chance. I lean in, my voice low and edged with fury.
"Did you think I wouldn’t fucking find out?"
She exhales slowly, her lips curling in a way that is both dangerous and alluring. “Of course not. I knew you would."
Archie clears his throat like he’s considering stepping in.
He shouldn’t, but as close as we are, I know he might.
I flick my gaze toward him, throwing him a look he knows all too well. He steps back a bit with a nod.
I return my attention to Martine. "We’re leaving."
She tilts her head as ifconsideringit. "I just got here."
"And now you’releaving."
Her smile is sharp. "I don’t recall giving you control over my social calendar."
I lean in, fingers sliding from her wrist to her waist, my grip firm. "When I took you, I took control overeverything.So let me remind you."
She inhales sharply, her pupils dilating just a fraction. That electric tension crackles between us. "And what if I don’t want to leave?"
I don’t answer.
I just move.
Before she can react, I grab her, lift her, andthrowher over my shoulder like she weighs nothing. This seems to be a ritual of ours.
A sharp gasp escapes her, followed by a breathy, disbelieving laugh. Her fists press against my back. "Hayden! Put me down!"
"No."
"You can’t just—"
"I can," my voice is dark, amused, deadly. "And I just did."
