Allyson's POV
"So who is she exactly?" I asked, moving closer to clean the bright red lipstick mark that woman had left on his cheek. The sight of her kissing him made my stomach twist with an emotion I refused to acknowledge. This wasn't supposed to bother me, but it did.
I pressed my thumb against his skin, wiping away the crimson stain.
Michael tensed under my touch, then gradually eased into it.
"There's lipstick on your face," I explained quietly, removing the final trace of red before pulling back to my chair.
"Thank you," Michael said with that familiar smirk, though something rigid flickered across his features. "However, my private affairs are none of your concern, Allyson. Shall we order?" He raised his hand to catch the waiter's attention, his dark eyes meeting mine with a hint of mockery dancing in them.
