Mak narrowed his eyes at him, sensing deceit, and wondered if he knew who’d ordered the hit.
Tewa trembled under his scathing regard. ‘I’d like to speak about the bride, I know she was not -’
This was no time for making amends or entering into any freakin’ negotiation. ‘We shall talk about the matter later.’
Tewa blinked, then recovered with some aplomb. ‘Until then, let me introduce you to some esteemed Lisades guests,’ he declared, clapping a heavy hand on Mak’s shoulder.
Despite his protest, the enthusiastic Don ushered him through the crowd, determined to show him off like a prized bull.
They mingled with the invitees, exchanging pleasantries and small talk, which Mak endured with a clenched jaw.
Fate intervened as he was about to roar in frustration at the relentless parade of introductions and forced conversations.
Dancers descended onto the wedding hall, and all eyes and attention fell on them.
They glided across the polished floors, their movements fluid and mesmerizing.
Music filled the air, a hypnotic melody that transcended time and space.
Mak stood at the crowd’s edge, his gaze drawn back to Saba. Her eyes were on the entertainers, with a soft smile curving her lips.
When she clapped over her mouth in delight, he saw her in a different light - not just as a bride bound to him by duty but as a woman with her desires and dreams.
She radiated such stillness and inner joy that he found his jaw easing, but a wistfulness lingered in her expression, giving him a stab of longing.
He stepped toward her on instinct until he spotted a man shouldering his way to his new wife.
The newcomer stood as tall as Mak, broad, radiating strength and masculinity.
His muscles rippled beneath his tanned skin, and a matching pair of distinctive scarified tattoos ran down both sides of his face, adding to his rugged appearance.
His presence commanded attention, and his gaze held a hint of danger.
Mak’s frame locked.
Zolanfokkin’ Asivan.
His sworn enemy. Also, his cousin.
With his slicked-back hair and cold face, he exuded an air of entitlement that had always rubbed Mak the wrong way.
Mak loathed thekinai,eyes tracking himuntil he made a move that had Mak tensing.
His nostrils flared as Zolan reached his new wife’s side and bowed over her offered hand. Blood rushed into Mak’s head, so hot that his ears just about steamed.
A surge of possessiveness and anger surged through him as his cousin’s familiar form loomed over his bride.
Zolan’s presence at their wedding only fueled the fire within him, threatening to consume the momentary peace he’d found for a few moments.
He sucked in air to compose himself, the rage bubbling beneath the surface.
From afar, Zolan raised his head, his eyes locking with Mak’s as he smiled.
His smirk was a taunt, a reminder of the past injustices and betrayals that had festered between them for years.
He bent his head and kissed her hand once more.
Mak clenched his jaw, trying to contain the rising tide of emotions inside him.
