He flicks a glance at me, but doesn’t hesitate to step forward and grab Georgia’s waist. “Of course,” he says, right before whisking her onto the dance floor.

It’s a special kind of torture standing on the sidelines, watching another man hold Georgia in his arms in the dress I bought her, watching her hold on to his shoulders and smile up at him. The closer their bodies get as they dance beneath the glittering chandelier, the worse the feeling gets.

By the time the song ends, I can’t tell if I’m terrified or livid, but I can’t even wait for her to walk back over; I go to her. I weave through the audience, my gaze locked on her as she smiles and thanks Caleb for the dance. His hand lingers on her forearm and I want to rip it off his body.

I swoop in and cut her off mid-laugh as I grab her arm. I don’t miss a step as I proceed to drag her with me through the crowd.

Gasping, she says, “What are you doing?”

“I told you, we’re leaving.”

“Let go of me,” she says, incensed.

I’m not letting go of her little ass until she’s in my car.

“That was so rude! Lee, stop. At least let me say goodbye.”

I don’t.

A few seconds pass and she realizes I’m not going to answer, so she says, “If you don’t care about being rude, maybe you should care that you look like a crazy person. People are staring.”

Unfazed, I drag her pretty little ass through the mansion and out to the car.

“My coat,” she cries, pulling on her wrist to try and stop me. “We have to go back in.”

Fuck her coat. I’ll send Esteban in for it, but she’s not going back to the party.

When we finally reach the car, all I can think about is getting her inside and taking her far away from here. I can’t shake the smothering knowledge that the city isn’t far enough, though. I don’t know if Caleb truly liked her, or if he was merely letting her entertain him for a while. If he actually wanted to pursue her…

He will.

I shouldn’t have brought her tonight.

I should’ve known better.

Georgia finally jerks her arm free as we stop beside the limo. She crosses her arms, running her hands over her bare flesh. She must be freezing.

“This was a mistake,” I murmur, opening the limo door myself rather than wait for Esteban.

Georgia shakes her head. I knew she was angry at me, but I’m surprised when I look over and see the sheen of tears glistening in her eyes. “You’re impossible,” she tells me.

“You’re drunk.”