SEVENTY-ONE.

“Excuse me?” I step out of his embrace.

My temper has been aroused, and it's hard to contain after all the alcohol I have consumed.

My body feels like it is floating, my mind cloudy and my core dripping.

I lick my lips, “stay away from that Ciara bitch, then.” I hiss, placing my hands on my hips.

His left eye twitches as his jaw tightens. “It's not like that.”

I chuckle with venom, shaking my head. “Are you trying to tell me that you haven't fucked her?”

His hands clench and unclench at his sides. “No. And I don't want to.” He takes a step towards me.

I take two back, “don't.” I snap. “Don't fucking touch me!”

I brush past him, exiting the ballroom, and I walk straight towards the exit of the building.

He follows me in hot pursuit, his footsteps are heavy with determination, telling me that there is no escaping him.

He doesn’t utter a word or breathe my name, and it makes my skin prick with annoyance.

A large part of me wants him to call my name and make a scene to sh