If Elena thought Alexander had been furious about Marco, she hadn't seen anything yet.
The next week, they attended a charity art auction — another glamorous event where Alexander's name commanded cameras and whispers. Elena had no desire to spend her night surrounded by oil paintings and overpriced champagne, but she did have one goal: to rattle him.
And fate handed her the perfect opportunity.
---
"Mrs. Knight," a smooth voice said behind her.
Elena turned to find Damian Hale — a charming, golden-haired philanthropist, and, most importantly, one of Alexander's biggest business rivals.
Alexander hated him.
"Damian," she said warmly, offering her hand. "It's been a while."
His smile was easy, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. "Too long. And now I see why Alexander has been hiding you away. If I were him, I'd never let you out of my sight."
Elena laughed, the sound deliberately sweet. "Careful, Damian. You'll start rumors."
"Let them talk," he replied smoothly. "Shall we dance?"
---
Across the room, Alexander froze mid-conversation when he spotted them on the dance floor.
Elena in Damian's arms. Smiling. Laughing. Looking too damn comfortable.
Alexander's jaw tightened, his grip on his glass so sharp he nearly shattered it.
"Excuse me," he said to the group of CEOs, his voice like ice. He moved through the crowd like a storm in human form, every step deliberate, predatory.
---
On the dance floor, Elena tilted her head, enjoying the way Alexander's gray eyes burned across the room.
"Someone's jealous," Damian murmured with a grin.
"Jealous?" Elena asked innocently. "Alexander doesn't feel things like that."
But the truth was, she could feel the heat rolling off her husband from here.
And it thrilled her.
---
The music swelled, and suddenly Alexander was there, cutting between them like a blade.
"I'll be taking my wife," he said, his voice silk over steel.
Damian smirked, bowing out with deliberate slowness. "Of course. Don't worry, Alexander, I'll take good care of her next time."
Alexander didn't answer. His hand clamped around Elena's waist, dragging her into him as he swept her into a waltz that was far too sharp, too commanding to be polite.
"Enjoying yourself?" he asked, his voice low against her ear.
"Immensely," she said sweetly. "Damian's a wonderful dancer."
Alexander's grip tightened. "Don't test me, Elena."
She smirked, tilting her chin up to meet his storm-gray eyes. "What's the matter? Afraid someone else might find me interesting?"
His steps faltered for the briefest second, his mask cracking just enough for her to see it — the raw, possessive fury beneath.
Then his mouth brushed her ear, his words a growl meant for her alone.
"Don't ever let another man touch you like that again."
Elena's breath hitched, her heart betraying her. Because beneath the warning, beneath the cold command, was something else.
Something that sounded dangerously close to… want.