Page 64 of Marrying the Billionaire Single Dad

Julia

"How dare you?" My fist connects with his hard chest, but he barely moves. He doesn’t blink, or seem surprised.What the hell?Not even his breathing changes.

"You ass." I punch his side again; pain shivers up my arm. I pull back, then aim for his groin this time. My fist connects with his rock-hard abdomen. He draws in a breath. A reaction, finally. I pull back, raise my fist again. He swoops down, grabs my wrist, then turns me around and hauls me against him.

"Calm down," his hard voice sounds near my ear.

"I will bloody not," I growl, trying to kick him.

He sidesteps but I catch him in the shin anyway. He curses under his breath. "The fuck is wrong with you?" he snaps.

"The fuck is wrong withyou?" I shove the hair out of my eyes. "You left me on my own after…you…you…"

"I?"

"You know." I swallow, then glance around and take in the varying expressions of interest among the assembled faces. Bloody hell. Of course, we were the highlight of the afternoon. Likely, we’d usurped the attention from the bride and groom.

"Sorry," I direct my apologies at Amelie, who shakes her head.

"Don’t worry," she mouths at me, then glances up at the man behind me who has me pinned to him. "You okay?" she asks me.

No.

No.

"Yeah," I tell them.

"You sure?" She stares between me and Damian, who pulls me closer.

"What? Don't you trust me with your friend?" He laughs. "Rest assured, I'll make sure she's taken care of."

"Hmm." She narrows her gaze at him, then points a finger in his direction, "I'll hold you to that."

I ensure that my features stay calm as she heads into the house, followed by the rest of the crowd; then I turn on the alphahole who restrains me. "Let go," I hiss.

"No."

"I need to get out of here."

"So do I," he agrees.

"I’m not going anywhere with you," I snarl.

"You should have thought of that before you made a spectacle of yourself, and PS, what the fuck are you wearing?"

"What did you expect?" I hiss. "You left me there and walked off. And what’s wrong with what I’m wearing?" I glance down at the plaid shirt and the too-short jeans and ballet pumps that Amelie had loaned me, courtesy of Tinkerbell.

"I sent your friend to help you, and I like the fit of these jeans against your arse."

"Should I thank you for that?" I scoff, "And stop talking about my butt."

"It would be a start." He lowers his voice, "And I haven’t stopped thinking about it, considering I was your first there, after all."

"And yet you left me?" I bite the inside of my cheek.

"What did you expect? A post-coital cuddle, a kiss, a pat on the head."

"How about simple decency…you…you oaf?"