Renzo appeared from nowhere.
One moment he wasn't there and the next he was crouching beside Sofia with both hands on her shoulders, checking her face, asking if she was hurt, if she was okay, talking fast the way he did when he was scared and trying to hide it.
I watched him fuss over her and felt a completely different kind of anger ignite in my chest.
Him.
This was his fault.
He had brought her here. To this specific club. He had let her wear that dress, that silver dress that had stopped every man in the room dead in their tracks all night. He had left her alone on that dance floor in a packed club for God knows how long.
I had specifically, clearly, directly told him to watch her.
I turned away before I said something that couldn't be taken back in front of Sofia and pulled out
