That’s when I see him.
Dark eyes burning into my skin, his hand running through his dark, wavy hair.
Mr. Wanker from the auction.
Oh hell, you picked the wrong club tonight, asshole.
Megan’s eyes follow mine to see what I’m looking at. When she sees, they widen and come back to my face.
“Rachel… don’t.”
But I’m already striding off the dancefloor towards him. His smug face is still watching me, his eyes never leaving mine.
He’s asking for it.
Game on, Wanker.
He stands up as I reach the booth he’s in with his friends. A look of amusement plays across his face—an exceptionally smooth, masculine face complete with dark, chocolate-colored eyes. I watch him run a hand through his dark, wavy hair again. I scowl as I give him a quick glance over. Designer shoes and jeans, smart shirt rolled up at the sleeves, expensive watch. Yep, he’s definitely some kind of smarmy property tycoon with more money than morals.
Now I’m right in front of him. He towers over me in height, despite my heels. I can feel my anger rising in my chest. This guy, this stupid, selfish moron, stole my house from me! I’m literally shaking with rage as I glare at him, and he’s not even flustered.
“You!” I hiss through gritted teeth as I glare up at him.
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