Like always, he looked me up and down, his leering both revolting and irritating.

He stepped closer, then even closer, and that feeling of aloneness tripled in intensity.

He lifted his hand and touched my shoulder. “I—”

The pressure of his hand was there for less than split second.

“Vahe, do you just touch my fiancée?”

Elias

I’d often heard the term seeing red but hadn’t experienced it until Vahe touched Kayla.

I’d watch their interaction play out, looking for the moment to step in. And when Vahe had lifted his hand, it was then.

Kayla, as always, was admirably detached, but this wasn’t about her, at least not completely.

And at the same time it was completely about her.

About the way Vahe had touched her like he had a right to.

“Elias,” he said, a smooth smile covering his face. “I—”

He didn’t get a chance to finish.

My reaction was instantaneous.

And furious.

After the first punch, I felt the flesh and then heard his nose snap.

A satisfying sound, but not nearly enough.

He was screaming and lifted a hand to touch his face.

A hand that I grabbed and twisted until he dropped to his knees.

“Did you touch my fiancée?”

I spoke in a voice that was low, raspy, and not filled with even a portion of the rage that I felt.

I twisted harder, felt the satisfying stretch of tendons, the breaking of the bones in his wrist.

That wasn’t enough either.

I grabbed his hand, gripping his palm tight as he writhed.

Snap.

His pinky gave with almost no effort.

The three fingers after did too.

When I got to his thumb, I pulled, then twisted, the grotesque angle it was hanging at when I let it go finally putting a smile on my face.

“You did touch her, Vahe?”

“What the fuck, Elias!” he managed to choke out.

“I’m going to take that as a yes. But you won’t again, am I correct?” I asked.

He moaned but didn’t answer.

I put my foot on his knee. “Am I correct?” I repeated.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice tight, his eyes clouding with tears.

“Let’s go, Kayla,” I said as I put my arm around her.

Eleven

ELEVEN

Elias

“My office. Thirty minutes,” I said to Kayla.

I didn’t wait for her to respond before I hung up the phone.

It had been two days since I’d seen her last. After the dinner with my father, I’d wanted nothing more than to keep her close.

Which was exactly why I’d sent her away and kept my own distance, determined to put distance between us and get a tighter rein on my emotions.

Then, after Vahe had touched her, I’d been so overwhelmed with feeling, I’d been even more intent on keeping my distance.

I’d made it less than forty-eight fucking hours.

Pathetic.