Sara, ever the performer, dissolved into tears and nestled deeply into his embrace. Her face was already swelling. "Husband... how could she be so barbaric? It must be so hard for you, having to be with this kind of woman just for my sake."
Adrian shot me a look of pure loathing. "Hailey Henson, if you have a problem, come at me. You do not touch Sara."
His voice dropped an octave. Menacing. Cold.
"Apologize to Sara. Now. Admit your mistake, or I'll have your father come down here and teach you some manners."
I looked at Adrian. At how tightly he held her. At the depth of tenderness and heartache in his eyes—something I had never witnessed in our years together.
It wasn't that his personality was naturally cold.
It wasn't that he was too busy with work to care.
It was simply that I wasn't the one he loved.
A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I plucked the cigarette from the fingers of the male model beside me, took a long, hard drag, and blew a cloud of smoke directly into Adrian's face.
"Adrian Vance." My voice dripped with disdain. "You want me to apologize to a mistress? Are you insane, or is your skull full of water?"
I stepped closer, eyes locking onto his—