For a moment, she was too stunned to move, confused and angry and yet somehow almost satisfied that her inability to trust Danial was perfectly justified.

“Signora, get out,” the waiter yelled, startlingly close to Alex’s face.

“I will handle the bill,” Paul reiterated, shooing her toward the door.

“We have to leave,” Danial said, grabbing her wrist.

“Don’t touch me,” she spat. She ripped her arm from his hand and headed for the stairs, leaving just enough distance between her and Enzo to avoid running into him outside.

“Alex.” Danial followed her, reaching in her direction but distinctly avoiding contact with her body. “Hold on.”

“What?” She turned to face him as soon as they were safely around the corner from the bar. With the group now out of earshot, they had relative privacy, save the occasional tourists stumbling by.

“Let me explain.” He looked like a little boy, defeated and embarrassed.

“Explain why you attacked that man for no reason and got us thrown out of a fucking bar?”

“I didn’t attack him,” he hiccupped. “He swung on me.”

“And why did he do that?”

“He…” Danial hesitated, letting a group walk by before dropping his voice slightly. “He said something I didn’t like. And I told him to shut up.”

She let out a long sigh, rubbing her temple in exasperation. “What could he have possibly said?”

“I don’t want to get into it,” he wiped his forehead, swaying on his feet with inebriation. “But it wasn’t respectful to you.”

She laughed, so unfazed that she could only find it funny. “Danial, I don’t give a shit. I wasn’t going to marry that guy.”

“What do you mean you don’t give a shit?” His face had taken on that condescending distance again, disappointed in her answer.

“We’re at a karaoke bar for a bachelor party. This isn’t a fucking regency romance.”

For a moment he was silent, a pained expression forming itself on his face. And when he finally spoke, it was with an almost petulant insistence. “So you would just let that scumbag hook up with you?”

“Excuse me?” She backed up, straightening her posture. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I had a chaperone following me around on this trip.”

“I’m not following you around,” he offered, lamely.

“Yes, you are. It’s like you just want to punish me the minute I get close to having a good time.” She dug around in her purse for her phone, dreading the chaos likely waiting for her in the group chat. “Well, congratulations, you’ve succeeded!”

“That wasn’t the point.”

“Yes, it was.” She put her phone back in her bag, thinking better of looking at her notifications. “And you got exactly what you wanted, messing up my life yet again.”

“I didn’t—”