“No.” The older man stepped back and grudgingly brushed at his jacket.
“Yes,” Joy contradicted, thanking her months in the club for the ease with which the next words rolled off her tongue, firm and assertive. “That man is being insulting and aggressive toward me. He needs to be removed.”
Then she walked away, head high. She didn’t know where she was going or what happened behind her. She wanted to steal a glass of champagne off a passing tray, but was shaking so badly, she was sure she’d spill it down her front.
She was almost at their table when she realized Axel hadn’t come with her. People were glancing at her curiously.
These things have a way of getting around.
More like that man had spread rumors through this room like a virus.
Oh God. Her throat started to ache. She wished the floor would open and swallow her.
“Well, that was some serious badassery.” Quinn looped an arm around her. “You and I are going to beverygood friends. I can tell. Let me introduce you to some of the most sarcastic people I know. You’ll love them.”
“I—” Joy couldn’t help looking back the way she’d come. There was no sign of Axel, which made her heart swerve and dip anxiously.
“I put Micah on him,” Quinn said. “He’s big enough to hold your man back from the murder he was about to commit. You’re welcome for keeping him out of jail.”
“I didn’t mean to make a scene,” Joy said with agony.
“A scene? It was a master class in dealing with ass clowns. ‘He’s the kind of man who goes into strip clubs and scorns his wife? I’ll help you leave him?’ That was sniper-level assassination of character. Teach me.”
“You’re being nice,” Joy said, but she found a weak smile as Quinn introduced her to someone from the British embassy. She was acutely aware that Axel still hadn’t come after her.
* * *
I’ll kill him.
Axel was in such a haze of rage, so ready to remove that scumbag himself, he didn’t realize Joy had walked away until he heard Quinn say stridently, “Micah! I told Axel you’d find me. He wants to speak with you. I’ll go after Joy.”
That was when Axel had snapped out of his locked stare to see Joy wasn’t here. His whole world screeched to a halt.
“I’ve got this, big guy.” Quinn patted his arm. “You take a beat. Andyou,” she advised the piece of crap who’d insulted Joy, “should go save your marriage.”
The other man’s wife had already walked away as well.
Where was Joy? The ladies’ room? Axel looked around. He couldn’t spot her.
“What happened?” Micah asked. He was one of the richest men in Europe, running a family conglomerate that had weathered some ethics scandals in his father’s time but was now recognized for its green initiatives and commitments to diversity and transparency.
“Gossip.” Axel spat the word as though it was the most obscene curse ever uttered. Considering how it had been wielded against Joy, it was.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, sickened that Joy had been attacked. He was livid with himself that he’d put her in the position of becoming fodder for those ugly rumors, then ambushed by such gross behavior.
He glanced for the man who’d insulted Joy, still wanting to close his hand on the man’s throat, but that vile filth had wisely dissolved into the crowd. If he had any sense of self-preservation, he had left the party and was on his way out of the country.
“The rumors around you opening your own firm?” Micah said with a frown. “I was hoping that was true. I wanted to talk to you about it.”
Axel didn’t have much interest in business at the moment, but he exchanged a few terse words with Micah, promising to set up a meeting.
“I need to catch up with my wife and take her home,” Axel said.
“If Quinn has her under her wing, they’re likely near our table.” Micah led him to a small clutch of people who were all laughing except Joy.
She wore a strained smile and clung to a glass of wine, looking brittle enough to break.
“Let’s go,” Axel said.
