“Who are you?" Jackson demanded, jaw tight, eyes hot. “Why are you touching her?"
Francis didn't blink. “Francis Gray," he said. “And I'm standing between you and a woman who said no."
Jackson scoffed. “This is between us."
“It stopped being only between you the day you invited cameras," Francis said.
Jackson shifted his glare back to Freya. “Don't hide behind him."
Freya lifted her chin. “I'm not hiding." She slid her arm through Francis's. “He's my boyfriend."
Francis's brows rose a fraction; then he nodded once, easy. “That."
Gasps rippled. Phones climbed higher.
Jackson stared. “Your what?"
“Boyfriend," Freya said again, clear as glass. “Do you need me to spell it?"
“You're engaged to me," Jackson said, incredulous. “You can't just—"
“We were engaged," Freya cut in. “Then yo
