I want to crack his skull against the wall so he’ll never see it again.
“Thank you, Mark.” Her voice is warm. Relaxed. “That means a lot.”
Shit.
I bury the fury with the guilt and whatever else I’m not going to name.
She can smile for whoever she wants. She can talk to anyone she likes. That’s fine.
As long as she gives me what I need and stays within arm’s reach.
That’s all that matters.
I watch the way their heads dip close together, her face bright and so damn eager. I tell myself her freedom is a game I allow, a carefully fenced illusion of normalcy, and that at the end of the day, she’s still mine.
I’m only getting close to collect more intel.
Mark’s fingers brush her arm again and linger. His thumb strokes the fabric of my dress.
Okay, fucker.
That’s enough.
Someone squawks as I barrel through the crowd in a steady, unhurried pace.
Even these people aren’t so obtuse that they don’t sense the shift in pressure, the threat in the air. They drift out of my way, ducking their heads and pretending not to see me.
I reach Jordan just as Mark leans in, his lips close to her hair. She tips her head back, and that dimple flashes.
The one I’ve only seen once before.
And she just met this guy.
I fill the gap at her side.
No touching, not yet.
My presence alone tilts the whole world off its axis.
Their conversation stutters, then dies. The temperature drops.
Mark recoils, the response barely noticeable but satisfying enough. Even though he tries to act cool, his body betrays him.
“That was quite a presentation, wasn’t it?” He tries to rope me in by acting like he isn’t rattled. “Are you Jordan’s colleague?”
I don’t bother answering. My hand finds Jordan’s lower back, my fingers light but impossible to miss. She tenses, every muscle tight. A tremor runs through her shoulders.
My eyes never leave Mark. “Ready.” It’s not a question.
She doesn’t turn, just protests, almost too softly. “Oh, I was just talking?—”
“We need to go.” My fingers press, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind.
I don’t giveMarkanother glance. I spin away, threading Jordan through the horde of bodies. She follows, resistant but pliant.
That happy flush is stripped away, replaced by the cold gleam of steel. Her jaw locks so tightly, I half-expect her teeth to shatter.
She tilts her head toward me, her voice almost lost in the clatter of the crowd. “What are you doing? I was in the middle of a conversation.”
