A group of elegantly dressed socialites nearby burst into laughter, their voices carrying.
"Just look at what she's wearing. She looks like a beggar who wandered in off the street."
"Women like her never know when to quit. Mr. Robert treated her so well and yet she insisted on leaving him. Serves her right if she's struggling now."
Listening to the chatter swelling around us, Jonah's smug grin grew wider, his confidence swelling with each snide remark from the banquet guests. He swirled the wine in his glass, the liquid catching the chandelier's glow like molten rubies.
"Look," he began, his voice tinged with condescension. "If you want me to take you back, just say so. There's no need to chase me all the way here and cause a scene. Apologize and I might be generous enough to forgive you."
He stepped closer, reaching out as if to take my hand. His movements were deliberate, as though the simple act of touching me would cement his dominance.
I sidestepped smoothly, the fabric of my damp dress brushing against his outstretched hand as I moved away. Fixing him with a cold glare, I said sharply, "Mr. Robert, please have some respect. Your companion is standing right beside you, after all."