Page 31

I excuse myself and make a conscious effort to talk to more people, the very reason I'm at this party in the first place.
But even as I throw myself into networking mode, my mind keeps circling back to him andher. The hold he seems to have over me after such a brief encounter is infuriating.
I excuse myself from the group I’m conversing with, desperate for a moment to gather my thoughts. I head over to the bar.
“Vodka martini, dry, please,” I tell the bartender, my voice sounding strained even to my own ears.
As I wait for my drink, I can't help but sneak another glance in Mark's direction. He's still engaged in conversation with the brunette.
I quickly look away, heat rushing to my cheeks. Get a grip, Quinn, I chastise myself.
My drink arrives, and I drink it faster than I should, so I order another before I finish the first, just in case.
A familiar voice interrupts my spiraling thoughts. “Well, well, if it isn't the lovely Quinn Desmond.”
I turn to find Charlie Letvin standing uncomfortably close, his eyes raking over my body in a way that makes my skin crawl. “Charlie,” I acknowledge, forcing a tight smile. “I didn't expect to see you here.”
A lie. Mark told me we’re here to show Charlie Letvin what an incredible couple we are. But now, I find myself alone while Mark does God knows what with that brunette.
He leans in, invading my personal space. “I'm full of surprises, Sweetheart. And I must say, you look absolutely ravishing tonight.”
I take a step back, my discomfort growing by the second. “Thank you, but I should really get back to Mark.”
Charlie's hand shoots out, gripping my wrist. “What's the rush? Surely you can spare a moment for someone who could have been a client.”
His touch feels like a vice, and panic starts to build in my chest. I try to pull away, but his hold only tightens. “Charlie, please let go.”
“Come on, Quinn,” he purrs, his breath hot against my ear. “We both know there's always been something between us. Why resist it? We know you and Mark can’t possibly last. What do you see in him, anyway?”
I'm about to tell him exactly where he can shove his “something” and how he could only hope to be the quarter of a man Mark is when a deep, commanding voice cuts through the tension.
“I believe my fiancée asked you to let go, Letvin.”
I turn to see Mark standing behind Charlie, his broad shoulders squared and his eyes blazing with barely contained fury.
Charlie releases my wrist, turning to face Mark with a sneer. “Zolotov. I should have known you'd be sniffing around.”
Mark takes a step forward, his presence imposing and dangerous. “And I should have known you'd be harassing a woman who wants nothing to do with you. As usual.”
The air crackles with tension as the two men stare each other down, a silent challenge passing between them. I can feelthe history, the bad blood that runs deep. When Charlie takes one step closer to me, I see Mark reach into his coat pocket.
Is that a gun he’s threatening to pull out?
Charlie’s eyes follow his hand, and then, to my surprise, Charlie scoffs and takes a step back. “Whatever, Man. She's not worth the trouble.”
He shoots me one last leering glance before slinking away, disappearing into the crowd.
I let out a shaky breath, my heart still pounding in my chest.
But as I meet Mark’s gaze, I'm struck by the intensity within it. It's not merely anger or protectiveness. It's something much more primal, more possessive.
“Are you okay, Quinn?” His voice is softer now, the earlier possessiveness replaced by genuine worry.
I nod, willing my racing heart to slow down. “I'm fine. I was handling it, until you stepped in.”
Mark frowns. “Are you… upset?”
“No,” I say, passive-aggressively. “I’m not upset. I’m just sick of you coming over and taking control of every single situation I find myself in, like some god damn alpha.”