Tamara walked over, pressed her fingers hard against the wound, and hissed through clenched teeth, "Arthur, Jarvis is doing you a favor by using the venue you set up. Don't push your luck."
She waved a hand behind her.
"Someone strip the groom's suit off him. Have it cleaned and put it on Jarvis."
Before I could react, a swarm of hulking men rushed me and tore every piece of clothing from my body.
December in the capital was already bitterly cold. I stood under the spotlight in nothing but my underwear, shaking.
Roaring laughter erupted from the crowd below.
"See that? When a man's got nothing to offer, even the woman in his arms gets snatched away! Pathetic!"
"Being broke is one thing, but being stupid is another! Does he even know who that girl caught the eye of? That's the young heir of the Farley family, the richest in the city! If a man like that wants your woman, you hand her over with a bow, even if she's given you eight kids!"
"Otherwise—"
The man jutted his chin in my direction.
"You end up like that."
The jeering didn't stop until Jarvis walked back onstage wearing my suit. Then the crowd fell silent.