"You may go," Zane dismissed him.
"Shall I place your order? It's been a while since you last ate."
Hearing that, Zane's thoughts drifted and the image of her boldly shoving a spoonful across his face, grinning as if the world belonged to her, flashed in.
Normally, his thoughts were consumed by revenge, by plotting how to make her suffer. But this time… something strangely felt different.
Had he let her get too close?
Adjusting his glasses while he looked grim, Zane replied. "The pub no longer serves anything worth eating. I'll be having dinner elsewhere."
Damien turned away, but halted when he remembered something in his boss's schedule.
"Sir, the gala is in two days. Are you planning to attend?"
"Mmm."
"With your… new… wif—" Damien trailed off, stopping the moment he met Zane's steely gaze—sharp and unyielding, like a sniper's aim on his forehead.
"I'm married to her on paper. That doesn't give her any place beside me in public. Leave," Zane dismissed coldly.
