Chapter 263:
That made Sharon laugh out loud. “Of course not,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re special. You’re the guy being investigated for murder. You might end up in prison. We should totally steer clear of you.”
Her words hit hard, and Marc’s jaw tightened.
His face darkened, but he held back whatever he really wanted to say.
“Stel, please,” he said quietly, more serious now, “just give me a few minutes. Let’s talk—just the two of us.”
He reached out, trying to grab Stella’s hand. “Please…”
She slapped him—hard. “Back off! Next time, it won’t just be a slap.”
Marc stood there, stunned. He didn’t expect her to hit him. Not like that. Not so fast.
Before he could even gather his thoughts, someone let out a loud, sarcastic laugh that cut straight through the buzz of the bar.
Marc turned toward the sound—and his face darkened. It was the last person he wanted to see.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he muttered. “Shaun? What the hell are you doing here?”
Marc’s hatred for Shaun ran deep. The guy had screwed over the Walsh Group more than once, wrecking deals they’d worked hard to lock down. And now, here he was—smirking like he owned the place.
Shaun Smith stood up from a nearby booth, tall and sharp-looking, dressed way too well for a casual night out.
With that smug grin of his, Shaun said, “Marc, are you drunk already? You should know better than to manhandle someone in public. That kind of thing’s not just rude—it’s illegal.”
Marc glared. “It’s none of your business.”
Shaun raised his hands like he was backing off, but his tone was anything but calm. “Relax. I’m not trying to start anything. I just hate seeing a woman being treated like that. Guess I’m too soft-hearted for my own good.”
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Marc clenched his jaw. “She’s my wife. We had a small fight. That’s it.”
Shaun chuckled, and his voice dripped with sarcasm. “Wife? That’s rich. She doesn’t even want to go with you. You’re out here acting drunk and desperate—and you haven’t even touched a drink yet.”
Marc’s hands curled into fists. All Stella had done was dance—and now Shaun was stepping in like some kind of hero. Was he seriously falling for her already?
Still holding his wine glass, Shaun looked at Stella, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Well, since you clearly don’t want to leave with him,” he said, “why not come with me instead?”
Marc’s expression flickered with surprise at Shaun’s unexpected comment. He’d never once suspected Shaun might have his sights set on Stella, too. Across from them, Stella pressed her lips into a faint line, watching the spectacle with cool detachment.
She didn’t buy for a second that Shaun was genuinely interested in her. Men like him—wealthy, impulsive, used to stirring up trouble for their own amusement—rarely meant what they said.
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