“Take your hands off her.”
Alexander Harrington’s voice thundered across the ballroom.
“Now.”
Marcus froze.
His fingers loosened around my arm.
The room became completely silent.
Hundreds of people had been talking only seconds earlier.
Now nobody moved.
Nobody laughed.
Nobody touched their champagne.
Even the string quartet near the stage had stopped playing.
Marcus looked at Alexander.
Then at me.
Then back at Alexander.
“Sir, I was only—”
“Take your hands off her.”
Alexander repeated it more quietly this time.
That was somehow worse.
Marcus released me.
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