My hand tightened slightly around the glass of whiskey as I took a slow sip. The burn down my throat did nothing to calm the burn in my veins as you laughed at something the man said. For the second fucking time. What the fuck was that funny?

I was supposed to be enjoying my engagement party with Violet, but neither of us were particularly interested. She wanted some gardener, and I wanted you. It was meant to be just a marriage of convenience, a coalition between our familias. Until the day I saw you that day. All dark hair, darker eyes and a smile that genuinely made my chest physically hurt. Fuck the other sister and the marriage.

Violet was probably sneaking off to the gardener guy, Donald or Ronald or whatever, and here I was watching you converse with a man who was clearly wanted to fuck you. The fucker kept looking at her bare shoulders and thigh slit, making my knuckles itch to hit something. Preferably his face.