The scowl on Spencer's face deepened, his eyes narrowing with dark intent. “I told you not to leave. We need to discuss what you saw.”
Ash stepped in front of her, shielding her against Spencer. “Who are you?”
She tried to push Ash away, desperate to defuse Spencer's notorious temper, but Ash wouldn’t budge.
Spencer's muscles bunched under his expensive suit. His fingers curled into fists, the veins on the backs of his hands as well as those on his forehead sticking out.
“Who am I? I’m her fiancé, asshole. Who are you, and why are you kissing my girl?”
“Your girl?” Ash crossed his arms, letting his muscles flex in a classic male pose.
Spencer's brows pinched together, casting his eyes in shadow. “Skye, tell me what’s going on.” He grabbed her wrist and jerked her out from behind Ash.
She yelped as pain shot to her shoulder.
“Whoa, what the fuck, man?” Ash took a step forward. “Let her go.”
Spencer snapped her to his side.
“Stop! You’re hurting me,” she said.
But he never stopped, not when he got like this. His grip tightened.
He pulled her toward the door. “When I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it. Now, why did you leave?” He said the words without a hint of remorse, like he’d expected her to wait while he finished fucking that girl.
She fought his hold, trying to shove him away, but he was too strong. She should tell him off, but the words died on her lips as dark coal eyes bored into her with a fury reminiscent of another man who had once held great power over her life.
“Let her go.” Ash pinched Spencer's wrist, pressing, until Spencer yelped and released her arm.
She stepped away, terrified.
Her attention snapped to Ash. He was stepping into a shitstorm.
Spencer's derisive snort made her flinch. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
She should call security, but she couldn’t walk away.
Ash grabbed the lapels of Spencer's expensive suit. “I don’t care who you think you are. You’re threatening a woman, and that’s not going to fly.”
The two men locked gazes as the rising testosterone level clotted the air.
“She’s mine,” Spencer said.
While Spencer matched Ash in height, years of law practice had softened his physique. Ash clearly worked out, and she feared what would happen if things escalated.
Ash’s voice came out as a growl. “I said…don’t. Touch. The. Girl.”
Spencer swung, moving in a blur. His fist connected with Ash’s jaw. A resounding smack echoed in the small antechamber.
Skye screamed, “Spencer, no!”
Ash gave a slow, measured smile and then launched a fist toward Spencer's face. His punch connected with Spencer's nose, producing a crunch and a red plume that flew in an arc. Ash followed with a jab to Spencer's gut, and Spencer doubled over.
Fabric ripped. Blood streaked through the air.
Her screams drew security but not before both men got in several more shots. They were all arms and legs and fists connecting with flesh. Spencer's nose was definitely broken, dripping blood. He also bled from deep cuts in his temple, jaw, and cheekbone. Ash sported a split lip and a cut under one eye, and a purplish lump was slowly forming over a cheekbone.
Two security guards separated the men. Ash grinned as he bounced on his heels, relaxed and moving back at the insistence of one of the guards. Spencer breathed heavily and surged against the second guard, who held him in an armlock.
