It wasn't.
“Wow, stuck up much?” he said, moving around to face me again. “You're not even that hot.”
I simply rolled my eyes and turned, ready to walk off the floor. But the next thing I knew, he had his hand on my arm and tugged me back. “I mean, look at you,” he continued, his voice nastier now. “You think you can afford to be picky with a body like that? You should be grateful I even noticed you.”
I stood there, shell-shocked as his words registered. For a brief moment, I felt triggered, felt the same shame I felt growing up as a young woman when girls in school made fun of me, but I forced it down.
I straightened my spine and met his gaze directly. “I'm not interested. Let go of my arm.”
“Fat bitch,” he spat, loud enough that a few nearby dancers turned to look. “You're begging for attention in that dress, but you're too good to talk to me?”
My cheeks burned, but I held my ground, tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong. “I'm not done talking to you—”
“Take your hand off her,” a low voice growled, and suddenly Gastone was there, his face a mask of cold fury.
Mark let go of my arm immediately, taking a step back. “Hey man, this is between me and her.”
Gastone moved in front of me, his back to me as he faced Mark. “No, it's not. Not anymore.”
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Mark demanded, though I noticed he'd taken another step back.
“Her husband,” Gastone said, his voice deadly quiet. “And when my wife tells you she's not interested, you walk away. You certainly don’t insult her.”
Mark's face paled slightly as Gastone flexed his muscles. “Whatever, man. She's not worth it anyway.”
Gastone moved so quickly I barely registered it—one second, he was in front of me, the next he had Mark by the throat, pushing him backward.
The people around us scattered, giving them a wide berth.
“Apologize,” Gastone said, his face inches from Mark's.
“I'm sorry,” Mark choked out, his eyes wide with fear. “I'm sorry, okay?”
Gastone didn't let go. “Not to me. To her. To my wife.”
The way he said wife, with such authority, made my toes curl. I didn’t know why.
“I..I’m sorry…” Mark gasped, his eyes flickering to me, and then he went back to Gastone. “I swear, I didn't see a ring—”
“I don’t care about that,” Gastone cut him off. “The point is, you thought it was okay to insult a woman because she rejected you. That makes you what, exactly?”
“An asshole,” Mark admitted, his face reddening from lack of oxygen. “I'm an asshole.”
“At least we agree on something.” Gastone released him suddenly, causing Mark to stumble.
“Now get out of my sight before I remember how to use my fists.”
Mark didn't need to be told twice. He hurried away, disappearing into the crowd.
I stood there, breathing hard. I hated that I needed rescuing, but I couldn't deny the relief I felt at Gastone coming when I needed him most. Something told me Mark wouldn’t have just left.
Gastone turned to me, his eyes soft as they met mine. “Are you okay?”
“I'm fine,” I said, lifting my chin. “I could have handled it myself.”
His lips quirked in a half-smile. “I know you could have. But why should you have to?”
I didn't have a good answer for that. We stood there on the edge of the dance floor, the music pulsing around us.
