“I didn’t agree with Mom’s decision.”
I don’t know what kind of stupid game he’s playing, but I’ve had enough. “I saw you arrive at this event, and nothing about your demeanor––including the stunning redhead hanging from your arm––would indicate you were still heartbroken over me.” He never gave a fuck about me and I’m certain he still doesn’t.
“Hear me out, Harley?—”
I lift a hand. “If your mother thought we weren’t a match made in heaven, you should’ve had the balls to look me in the face and tell me it was over. But that’s not what you did. You took the coward’s way out by hiding behind your mommy’s skirt. What kind of man are you?”
His nostrils flare. “So, you’re going to punish me by dating the man my mom was married to?”
He’s so conceited, he thinks everything is about him. “It’s called divorce, Chett. Once the ink dries, it’s fair game. Kaz is allowed to move on as much as your mother has.”
He grabs my arm.
I gasp. “Let go.” Anger surges through me in a furious rush. “Get your hands off me.”
“Don’t you have any self-respect? I was inside you, and now my ex-stepfather is inside you. It’s practically incest.”
I stare at him, praying God will give me the superpower to burn a hole in between Chett’s eyes. “You moron. You aren’t even related by blood.”
His eyes narrow to slivers. “It’s the principle of it, Harley.”
A tall, black man with deep brown skin wearing a blue linen suit, sporting fades and a half-moon part that looks fresh from the barber walking by, stops. The stranger’s dark brown eyes are lasered on me. “Is everything okay here?”
“Yes,” Chett says at the same time as I say, “No.”
The man frowns and shifts his attention to the man child holding me captive. “No means no, bro.”
I look over my shoulder.
“You don’t get to call me bro,” Chett says. “Do you even know who the fuck I am?”
Conceited asshole.
“You could be Elvis or Neil Armstrong reincarnated, and I’d still insist you take your hands off the lady,” my Samaritan says.
“Playing savior?” Chett scoffs. “Theladyand I have history, so mind your fucking business.”
The man’s head jerks back and he frowns.
I can’t believe this idiot.“We hooked up for one month, Chett. Don’t make this out to be more than it was?—”
“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll let go of my girlfriend right the fuck now.”
Kaz’s words give me goosebumps.
The kindhearted man who came to my rescue scurries off to the side.
Even he knows a storm is brewing.
“I didn’t think you were into my sloppy seconds, old man.” Chett snorts. “If you want, I can give you the number for the girl I came here with. You might want to do her next.”
Chett is a handsome, professional athlete with a multimillion-dollar contract and a promising career. He has a charismatic smile that could light up a room and he’s wearing the hell out of his head-to-toe white suit, which he paired with all white designer monogram sneakers with gold laces. He looks like a man who has it all. Once you get past the veneer, you see him for who he really is––a privileged fool with the attitude of a five-year-old brat.
“Let. Her. Go.”
Moregoosebumps.
Kaz’s eyes are sending a clear message. He’d strangle his ex-stepson if he could get away with it without ending up in a six-by-eight cell.
