David's POV
"Who the hell are you?" The words tore from my throat, raw with fury as my chest rose and fell with each ragged breath. The rose I'd brought her crumpled in my grip.
The stranger cocked his head, studying me with casual indifference. Dressed in worn jeans and a threadbare shirt, he possessed the kind of effortless attractiveness that made my blood boil. Was this what Cornelia wanted? This pretty boy?
"I could ask you the same thing," he shot back, matching my hostile tone.
Control. I needed to maintain control. But these days, that seemed impossible.
My hands found his shirt, shoving him backward through the doorway as my other fist clenched, ready to unleash the rage burning in my veins. I didn't give a damn who this bastard was anymore. All that mattered was what business he had being in my woman's home. He fought against my hold, clawing at my grip and making sounds like a cornered animal, but I wasn't letting go.
