Chapter 8
Mark's face cycled through shades of pale white and angry red after being publicly humiliated by Alaina.
Unable to handle the embarrassment, he cleared his throat loudly. "I need to use the restroom," he muttered, quickly walking away down the hall.
Preston watched Mark retreat and shook his head. He turned to Jarred.
Preston clapped a hand on Jarred's shoulder. His voice was full of genuine relief.
"I'm really glad to see you can be in the same room with her without losing your mind," Preston said. "It's good that you've finally moved on."
The words moved on triggered a violent surge of darkness in Jarred's eyes.
He turned his head slowly. He looked at Preston with a gaze so cold and hollow it made the hair on the back of Preston's neck stand up.
Preston didn't notice the danger. He leaned in closer to Jarred, lowering his voice to gossip.
"That Mark guy is a joke," Preston whispered. "He's just a mediocre lawyer looking for a trophy. He doesn't deserve Alaina."
Lachlan, who had had one too many whiskeys and always enjoyed stirring the pot, let out a low, knowing chuckle.
Lachlan took a step forward, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked at Preston with an amused, instigating smirk.
"You have high standards now, Preston?" Lachlan drawled, dragging out the syllables.
"Did you forget that three years ago, you tried to set Alaina up with your cousin?" Lachlan asked loudly.
The question dropped like a live grenade directly into Jarred's brain.
Jarred's casual stance vanished. His entire body locked up, every muscle pulling tight as wire.
The fingers holding his unlit cigar gripped it so hard that the knuckles turned a terrifying shade of white.
Jarred whipped his head toward Preston. His voice sounded like gravel grinding together. "You tried to set her up with another man?"
Preston jumped back, startled by the sudden, suffocating murderous intent rolling off Jarred. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
"It was a long time ago, Jarred," Preston stammered. "Besides, Alaina refused to even meet him."
Even knowing she had refused, the venomous snake of jealousy sank its fangs deep into Jarred's sanity.
The realization hit him-during the eight years he had spent bleeding for her, countless other men had tried to touch what belonged to him.
A destructive, violent rage slammed against his ribcage, demanding to be let out.
Jarred reached up and yanked fiercely at his silk tie, pulling it loose. He took a harsh breath, fighting the urge to tear the room apart.
Standing a few feet away, Alaina heard every word. A wave of humiliation washed over her.
She hated being discussed like a piece of property by these arrogant men.
She gripped her trench coat tightly and looked down the hallway, praying Mark would hurry up so she could leave. Under the guise of adjusting her clutch, she quickly pulled out her phone and fired off a desperate text to Claire: 'Worst date ever. SOS. Come get me outside the restaurant.' She slipped the phone back into her bag.
Jarred's sharp eyes caught her movement. He saw her looking for the lawyer.
Seeing her actively wait for that piece of trash snapped the final string of Jarred's control.
He took a heavy step toward her, his body radiating a terrifying, dominant energy.
Just as Jarred closed the distance, Mark walked out from the hallway corner.
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