Page 298 of The Christmas Wife

"He’s right." I raise my glass in their direction. "Parenting is bloody hard work, not that I know anything about it. But hats off to you guys, you’re doing an incredible job."

"Sinclair’s been so helpful. He insists on waking up at night when the baby starts crying and is really good at putting him back to bed."

"Good on you." JJ, too, raises his glass in their direction.

"This is our first night out in" —Sinclair shakes his head— "in forever. Speaking of," —he takes his wife’s hand in his— "I’m going to take my wife dancing."

"Go for it." I laugh and take a sip of my champagne.

Sinclair pulls away with Summer. JJ turns to Lena and asks, "Want to dance?"

She shakes her head, then wraps her arm about his waist. "I’m happy to watch."

He pulls her even closer. "And I’m happy to watch you."

They share a look, and it’s such an intimate moment, I feel like I’m intruding. "I think I need to get around and press the flesh and all that." I shuffle my feet.

JJ and Lena look at me. "You sure, you—" He looks past me and his jaw firms.

"What is it?"

Lena follows the direction of his glance and her gaze widens.

I begin to turn, when JJ shakes his head. "Don’t."

I arch an eyebrow. "Meaning, I really need to look at this."

I glance over my shoulder, and all of my muscles coil. The hair on my forearms rises. I curl my fingers so tightly aroundthe stem of the glass that it cracks. "Fuck." I swipe out my other hand and catch the thin bowl of the flute before it can roll over the side. I place it back on the table upside down so it doesn’t fall, then shake out the champagne that’s fallen on my hand. Luckily, I didn’t cut myself. I pull out the handkerchief from my pocket and dry my fingers before stuffing the cloth back in my pocket.

"Excuse me."

I turn to leave, when JJ grips my shoulder. "Don’t do anything stupid."

I hesitate.

"The paps are salivating for gossip. Your enemies can’t wait for you to take a wrong step. It’s your career at stake."

I set my lips.

"And hers," he adds.

I draw in a breath and force my muscles to relax. When I nod, he releases me. At which point, I turn and stalk toward where she’s dancing with someone else. I know she has to circulate among the guests. It’s her job. It comes with the territory of being a fixer. Of keeping an ear to the ground and staying abreast of events. I get that. But this… This is where I draw the line. She came to the event with me and now she’s dancing with another. How dare she dance with another man?

There’s something familiar about his stance, his features, but I’m positive I’ve never met this man before. He’s much taller than her—as tall as me—and in comparison, she looks tiny, fragile. His swarthy looks complement her delicate ones. With his head of full dark hair, and Zara’s dark locks that flow behind her, they make a striking couple.

My chest seizes. My heart pumps so hard, the beats reverberate through my cells. The bastard has his hand around her tiny waist, the other holding her hand. As I watch, he releases her waist, only to twirl her out then back toward him.She laughs, that full-bodied, hearty laugh that arrows straight to my cock. He leans forward, until his face is close to hers, until his mouth is close to her ear, until it feels like his entire body is a hair’s breadth from enveloping hers. That’s when something inside me snaps.

I weave through the people standing around the edge, then past the other dancing couples, to stand beside them.

For a second, they don’t notice me, so engrossed are they in each other, and that only fuels this burning sensation that’s flared in my chest.

"Let her go." I hear my words, and only then, do I realize I’ve spoken.

Both of them turn to face me.

Her features pale. "Hunter, we were just dancing."

I glare at her, then back at the motherfucker who still has his hands on her.

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