Page 33 of Xander

Henry tucked a strand of hair behind my ears with his other hand. I recoiled.

“I chose you as my wife for a reason, and it’ll stay that way. Do we understand each other?”

“You’re disgusting.” I jerked out of his grasp. “I don’t know how I ever fell for your act.”

“You’ll calm down.” He traced a finger along my face. “And when you do, you’ll see what we have is better than being locked up.” His hand moved to my chin, the touch firm and foreboding.

A bitter laugh fell from my lips. “You’re a joke. You think you’re so much smarter than everyone else, yet you’re making the same mistakes as every other scared middle-aged man.”

The dim lighting in the hallway cast shadows that matched his eerie mood, enhancing my sense of foreboding. I shouldn’t have pushed him at that moment, but I was on a roll.

“Maybe I should be grateful. A mistress is cheaper to maintain than a Lambo when it comes to fulfilling the inadequacies of a small dick⁠—”

Pain lit up the side of my face, the sharp crack of a strike reverberating through the air. There was a strange ringing noise in my ears.

What was that? I thought as something hard hit my knees.

The alcohol coating my mind decelerated the effect. It took me a moment to realize my knees had been knocked to the floor.

Henry had struck me.

The salty tang of blood in my mouth mingled with the lingering taste of champagne, creating a sickening contrast between elegance and brutality that seemed to have been my life for the last few years. The strains of classical music from the string quartet had faded into a distant memory, replaced by a deafening silence broken only by the sound of Henry’s approaching footsteps.

The shock had barely worn off when I was struck again. This time, it was a kick to the side of my body. He loomed over, menacingly staring down with cold eyes that pierced through the alcohol-induced hazy veil.

Something had snapped inside him at being humiliated in front of his young sidepiece, who shrieked upon witnessing Henry’s violence and made a quick exit.

My pupils blew wide when he drew his leg back and kicked me again. Then again and again.

Each kick he delivered carried a weight of unresolved anger, tearing through the delicate fabric of what remained of this marriage, the opulent surroundings offering no comfort against the onslaught of violence. My hands struggled in a futile attempt to shield myself from the relentless assault.

The metallic aftertaste of iron withered. The hallway felt suffocatingly small as he rained down more kicks. The veneer of sophistication in the pristine hallway was stripped away to reveal his dark aggression unraveling like a twisted waltz of destruction.

My lip split open, my side screamed in agony, and my face felt numb against the floor.

Then, there was a flash of black, and Henry, still flushed from exertion, flew into the champagne fountain with the resounding sound of broken glass. Glistening droplets of champagne scattered from the impact, and the dim lighting cast a surreal halo around the figure that had come to my rescue.

Xander.

Chapter

Eleven

XANDER

My eyes filled with rage as Henry raised his leg to kick Jordan again. The guests hadn’t witnessed him beating her in the hallway off to the main ballroom. As a result, he had done some major damage—a split lip and bruises on her body.

I lost my shit.

One punch sent him flying through the champagne tower, hundreds of coupes shattering on impact.

He cried out in pain, but I didn’t care.

At that moment, I didn’t care about anything other than her.

“Are you okay?” I rushed to Jordan, running my knuckles over the cheek he had smacked. A red, angry bruise marked her perfect porcelain skin. I planned to—no, I needed to—murder him for this.

Jordan nodded shakily, stunned. It was all the clearance I needed.