Page 29 of Protected By My Playboy Billionaire

As I draw nearer, he senses my presence and turns to face me, a sickening glint of lust fading into defiance and challenge in his eyes. The thought of his audacity, his attempt to touch her, ignites a raging inferno inside me. I stride towards them, disregarding the curious glances from the group of women nearby, one of whom appears oddly familiar.

Without breaking eye contact, I reach Elana’s side, aware that my presence is looming over them like a thundercloud. A subtle click of my tongue prompts the man to retract his hand from Elana’s chair, his posture straightening.

“You’d be wise to keep that hand close to you/” I motion to his hand with my chin. His response is a clenched fist, simmering with opposition.

“Ah, so that’s the friend you’ve been tagging along with.” The bastard’s arrogance is oozing from his mouth as he speaks. “We were beginning to think you weren’t showing up.”

“Unfortunately for you, I have a knack for being everywhere.” I meet his gaze head-on. “We’re leaving.” I turn to Elana, biting my tongue to stop myself from saying more than necessary.

Elana opens her mouth, but before she can say anything, the man interjects with a sneer, “And who are you to give orders, Mr. Everywhere?” His nostrils are flared as he eyes me up and down. “Maybe Elana doesn’t want to go yet.”

In an instant, my patience wears thin. I should knock his teeth in just for daring to say her name.But making a scene is the last thing I need. There are journalists everywhere.

“Elana, get up,” I hiss, my voice a dangerous whisper. I see Elana’s hand reach for her purse, which is resting on the bar, and she slowly drags it towards herself. Extending my hand towards her, I guide her off the barstool, her compliance swift. Pulling out my wallet, I extract a hundred-dollar bill, sliding it across the counter towards the bartender as he approaches to collect Elana’s glass.

“For you.” I indicate towards the tip with a nod. I saw what he did when the bastard tried to make Elana drink more.

“Thank you, sir,” the bartender acknowledges, accepting the bill as I pivot on my heel, allowing Elana to walk in front of me. The bastard murmurs something behind us, but I don’t even bother looking.

The group of women follows us with their eyes.

“See? I told you he always takes a girl home.” I hear one of them. Her tone hushed butnot enough.

After saying my goodbyes to whoever was in my way, Elana and I walk outside to where Mac is waiting by the car. He nods as I open the door for Elana to climb in. She does without hesitation, and I follow her. Her hands are clasped in her lap when I finally close the car door.

I wait until I hear the car’s engine and feel the slight pull as Mac drives off before asking, “Did he touch you?” I need to know we’re moving away from the place before asking, unsure if I’d be able to stop myself from mopping the floor with the bastard.

“No.” She shakes her head. “He tried, but you showed up.” She looks up at me, and I see apprehension. She’s worried about how I’m going to react.

I take a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have left you alone in there.”

“I promised that I’d be fine, and I am. I had a drink. He tried to flirt, but you came. Nothing happened.” Her attempt at reassurance does nothing to ease my thoughts. Her delicate brows furrow, her eyes staring vacantly at a spot in front of her before turning to me. She opens her mouth, ready to speak, but closes it just as quickly.

I toss my blazer on the couch and turn to face Elana, the warm ambient lights dancing on her skin and dress. She quietly sets her clutch down on one of the small tables by the couch and looks at me.

“What is it?” I soften my expression. She’s been meaning to ask me something during the entire car ride but hasn’t.

“Why did you get so angry with him trying to flirt with me?” She’s fidgeting.

“The answer is within the question, Elana,” I respond, closing the distance between us with measured steps as I loosen my bowtie.

She inhales a long, steadying breath and looks at me. “Why?”

“Why what?” I know what she’s asking, what she’s implying. I want to see if she has the guts to ask, and if I have the nerve to answer.

“Why did it make you so angry? Seeing him flirt with me.” She keeps squirming, not looking at me this time but at herhands.

“Because his intentions for you weren’t… courteous,” is all I say. Because he tried to touch what should belong to me.

“And yours?” She shoots me a defiant look.

“They aren’t up for discussion.” I narrow by brows at her, hoping she’ll take the warning and shut her mouth.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t want to—” She pauses, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink. Want to what? To tear the three thousand dollars off your body until it’s in pieces on the floor? To fuck you until the only word you know is my name?

“Don’t want to what?” I challenge her and take three slow steps until I’m standing right in front of her. Say it. What do you think I want to do to you?

She swallows. “I see the way you look at me. You touched me, you touched my leg in a way that…” She sucks in a sharp breath. I cock my head to the side and raise my brow at her. She can’t say it. “In a way that makes me think you don’t want other men to.”