Hatred. This was the definition of what Aaron was feeling. Murderous fury. Nothing mattered except the man in front of him. The man who had tried to touch Elena's lips. Aaron did not turn to the woman, not at that moment. He was too busy feeling angry.
"Do you intend to stay here to find out?"
"Sorry, man. I am cool," the man raised both hands in a peace sign, already knowing he would not win that fight, not in his drunken state.
"It's her body, not mine. Apologize to her," Aaron demanded.
The stranger turned to the beautiful woman and muttered an apology so quiet it could barely be heard. She merely nodded in acceptance. Elena then watched the man walk away as if what had happened was a movie. She hadn't had time to process all the events.
The dance... the man's hands...
