"Now, Savannah."
Romeo's hand tightens on my waist protectively. "The lady is dancing."
"The lady is my fiancée." Thad's eyes are cold as they assess Romeo. "And you have no right to touch her. Savannah, we need to talk. Privately."
"I'm in the middle of a dance?—"
"I don't care. We're leaving."
He reaches for my arm, but Romeo steps between us.
"She said she's dancing."
"And I said we're leaving. This doesn't concern you, Ciresa."
"It concerns me when you're being disrespectful to her."
"Disrespectful?" Thad's voice rises slightly. "I'm her fiancé. I have every right?—"
"You have no rights over her. She's not your property."
People are starting to stare. I can feel the weight of their attention, the whispers starting to spread through the crowd.
"Romeo, please," I say quietly. "It's fine. I'll talk to him."
"Savannah—"
"Please."
He looks at me for a long moment, and I can see the war playing out in his eyes. The desire to protect me. The need to respect my choices. Finally, reluctantly, he steps back.
"If you need me?—"
"She won't," Thad interrupts. He grabs my arm, his grip tight enough to hurt. "Come on."
He practically drags me off the dance floor, through the crowd, and out into the hallway. I can feel people watching, can hear the murmur of gossip starting to spread. Dr. Kouris looks concerned. Vivian looks alarmed. But Thad doesn't care. He pulls me down the hallway, around a corner, and into an empty alcove near the coat check.
"What the hell was that?" he demands.
"We were just dancing?—"
"Just dancing? With him? The one you've been spending all your time with?" His grip on my arm tightens. "Do you think I'm stupid, Savannah? Do you think I don't see what's happening here?"
"Nothing is happening. He's my project partner?—"
"Bullshit. I saw the way he was looking at you. The way you were looking at him." He pushes me back against the wall, his body crowding mine. "Are you fucking him?"
"What? No! Thad, you're being ridiculous?—"
"Am I? Because from where I'm standing, it looks like my fiancée is making a fool of me in front of half the university."
"I was dancing. That's all. You're overreacting?—"
"I'm overreacting?" He laughs harshly. "I leave you alone for five minutes, and you're in another man's arms. A man who clearly wants to fuck you. And I'm overreacting?"
"Let go of me. You're hurting me."
"Good. Maybe you need to be hurt. Maybe you need to remember who you belong to."
