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“If they moved, then there would be no one left to make your scotch and soda.”
“I’ll make it myself,” Ian drawls, taking another drag from his pen and tilting his head back to expel the vapor. “At this rate, it would be faster.”
“Turnover is already a huge problem in the service sector,” I continue. “Workers are leaving in droves, and employers —”
“That’s what happens when you give handouts,” hedge-fund guy interjects. “Nobody has to work, so why would they? If the government’s just going to pay them to sit on their asses . . .”
“Well, I expect you’d know, since people pay you to do the exact same thing,” I retort, my temper getting the better of me.
Silence seems to swallow our table as the men turn to look at me, and a wicked grin spreads across Ian’s face. He lets out an uneasy laugh, then licks his lips and meets Dimitri’s gaze with an expression that makes my insides curdle. “Lazos, I think you might need to put a leash on your woman.”
His words hit me like a slap, but before they even have a chance to sink in, Dimitri is on his feet. It happens so fast that I don’t even see him move. All I see is Ian Gray’s chair fly back a split second before he hits the ground, legs wriggling in the air.
A few people seated nearby gasp, and there’s a clatter of silverware just before a ripple of unease fans out over our table. Dimitri is hovering over Ian, his eyes two amber slits in a mask of rage. I can feel the power rolling off Dimitri’s body in waves, and judging by the way everyone remains glued to their seats, they can feel it, too.
“You’re the one who needs a leash, Gray,” Dimitri growls.
Ian Gray winces as he tries to sit up, his face flushed a deep shade of crimson tinged with purple splotches. “That’s assault, Lazos,” he huffs, his suit jacket all askew as he struggles to his feet.
“No. This is assault.”
Dimitri’s fist swings out so fast that I don’t see it coming. It connects with Ian’s jaw so hard that his face whips to the side, spraying blood and spit.
Ian Gray stumbles back, colliding with the table behind ours and catching himself on his elbow. A red mark is already blooming along his jaw, and when he slides his gaze over to me and spits blood on the floor, I realize that I’m on my feet.
Dimitri’s chest is heaving with rage as his huge hand closes around mine. He tugs me gently away from our table, turning to call over his shoulder. “You can tweet my lawyer, Gray.”
My nerves are shot by the time the valet pulls the car around. Dimitri slams my door and stalks around to his side, a muscle working in his jaw.
A toxic silence fills the car as he drives us back to the chalet. I’m still breathing hard from the scene in the ballroom, my mind replaying the sight of Dimitri punching Ian Gray over and over again.
Dimitri floors it when we reach the wrought-iron gate outside the chalet, the mirrors clipping the thick black bars as he speeds on through. My heart shoots into my throat at his obvious lack of control, and I scrunch the burgundy fabric at my knees as Dimitri kills the engine.
He doesn’t look at me as he climbs out of the car, nor does he open my door. He just strides toward the house as though he plans to torch the place.
It takes me a few seconds to gather the silk of my dress and extricate myself from the Jaguar without getting any slush on my outfit. My heel catches between two of the cobblestones as I get out, and I swear as I yank it out, causing the heel to break.
“Fuck!” I shout, my anger finally ripping through me. In one rough motion, I tug the shoe off my foot and stomp half-barefooted through the fresh layer of snow that’s accumulated in our absence.
I barge into the kitchen through the side door and find Dimitri standing at the island, pouring himself a drink.
“You didn’t have to hit him,” I finally grit out, pissed that he made such a scene at the gala and annoyed with his silent treatment.
“You didn’t have to bait him.”
“What?” I shake my head in disbelief, blinking up at Dimitri.
Is he seriously defending Ian Gray and the rest of those pretentious assholes?
He raises his eyebrows but doesn’t meet my gaze as he lifts the glass to his lips. “Read the room next time.”
My mouth falls open in furious indignation that he’s chastising me for speaking my mind. “I did,” I bite out, unable to calm the tumultuous rage that’s churning in my gut. “And what I found is a bunch of overprivileged assholes with no clue how the other half lives!”
“Of course they’re overpriviledged assholes, Jules! That’s practically a prerequisite for these things!” Dimitri’s voice booms out all around me, but I don’t shrink away.
“So I should have just kept my mouth shut?” I retort. “Just sit there and look pretty while they spill their toxic, entitled bullshit?”
“No. That’s —” Dimitri lets out a huff and pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s not what I meant. But there is a protocol for how one behaves at these sorts of events, and you clearly missed it.”
