<b>Chapter </b><b>175 </b>


    -CLANCEY POV- <fn707b> Original content can be found at f?ndnovel</fn707b>


    1 felt the shift in the room before I saw him.


    It was hushed at first–conversations quieting, people ncing over their shoulders, the kind of wave that moves through a crowd when something dangerous approaches.


    The champagne in my ss suddenly felt heavier, and I had the strangest urge to step protectively in front of Celine.


    Then I saw Hunter cutting through the crowd like a shark through water.


    “Shit,” I muttered under my breath.


    Everything about his posture screamed barely controlled violence.


    His jaw was locked, his blue eyes fixed on us withser focus, and his hands–Christ, his hands were already clenched into fists at his sides<b>. </b>


    This wasn’t theposed billionaire I had met at the motel months ago. This was something wild and dangerous<b>. </b>


    Celine was stillughing at something I had said about Caesar’stest dinosaur obsession,pletely unaware of the storm heading our way.


    When she finally turned and saw Hunter approaching, her smile died instantly.


    “Hunter!” Her voice was bright, but I caught the nervous edge underneath. “You made it. I was starting to worry….”


    “Didn’t realize I waste to a private date,” Hunter said, his voice cold enough to frost the windows.


    I felt my jaw tighten. Here we go.


    “It’s called a conversation,” I replied, keeping my tone level. “You should try it sometime.”


    Hunter’s gaze never left me, even when Celine stepped between us with her hands raised.


    “Hunter, don’t,” <i>she </i>said quietly. “Please.”


    But he was already locked onto me like a guided missile.


    I had seen that look before–in boardrooms, in back alleys, in men who had too much power and too little self–control.


    The kind of look that meant someone was about to get hurt.


    “You think this is funny?” Hunter asked, his voice low but carrying enough harshness to cut ss. “ying the good guy while sneaking behind my back?”


    I almostughed. Almost. “You think I would go after your girl? Get over yourself.”


    The crowd around us was starting to take notice.


    Conversations were dying, heads turning our way with the kind of morbid curiosity that came with watching a train wreck in real time.


    I could see Caroline across the room, her face pale with rm as she started moving toward us.


    15:11 <b>Sat</b>, <b>Aud </b>


    “Don’t mistake my tolerance for trust,” Hunter continued, stepping closer. “You’ve been circling her since the hospital.”


    That hit a nerve.


    Not because it was true, but because of the way he said it like Celine was a piece of property someone might steal.


    “And you’ve been controlling her since day one,” I shot back, my calm starting to crack.


    The words hit him like a physical blow.


    I watched his entire body go rigid, saw the muscle in his jaw twitch as he fought for control.


    Around us, the party guests were trying to pretend they weren’t listening while hanging on every word.


    Celine must have sensed how close we were to the edge because she stepped forward again.


    “Enough,” she said firmly. “Both of you. This is Caroline’s engagement party, not a boxing ring.”


    But neither of us was listening anymore. We were too busy staring each other down like wolves establishing territory.


    “You think you’re protecting her,” I said, my voice calm but carrying its warning, “but all you do is suffocate her<b>.</b>”


    Hunter’s hands flexed at his sides. “At least I don’t flirt with a woman I can’t have.”


    The usation hung between us like a challenge.


    I could have walked away then.


    Should have walked away.


    But something about his arrogance, his assumption that he owned every aspect of Celine’s life, made me push back.


    “The only reason she stays,” I said quietly, “is because she doesn’t see a way out.”


    Silence.


    Complete, dead silence.


    The words hit the small crowd around us like a bomb. I heard someone gasp, saw the shock register on nearby faces.


    Even the string quartet seemed to falter for a moment.


    But it was Hunter’s reaction that made my blood run cold.


    The mask of perfect control he had been wearingpletely slipped, revealing something raw and violent underneath.


    His breathing deepened, his pupils dted, and I could practically see the reasonable part of his brain shutting down.


    This was about to get very, very bad.


    “Hunter, please,” Celine’s voice was pleading now, desperate. “Let’s just go. We can talk about this at home.”


    But it was toote. Hunter had already crossed some invisible line in his head, and there was no bringing him back from it.


    He took a step forward, and every instinct I had screamed at me to either run or swing first.


    But we were surrounded by innocent people, by Celine’s friends, by cameras that would undoubtedly capture whatever <b>happened </b>next.


    “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Hunter said, his voice deadly quiet.


    “Don’t I?” I held his stare, refusing to back down even though every survival instinct I had was telling me to.


    <b>“</b>When’s thest time you saw herugh like that? When’s thest time she looked at you the way she used to?”


    It was a low blow, and I knew it.


    But watching the way he treated her….like a beautiful possession instead of a person….had been eating at me since the moment I had met them.


    Hunter’s face wentpletely nk, which somehow made him infinitely more dangerous.


    “You son of a bitch,” he said softly.


    The crowd around us had grownrger, a circle of expensive suits and designer gowns watching our quarrel like it was dinner drama.


    Someone was definitely filming with their phone. Caroline was pushing through the crowd, her face a mask of regretful fury.


    Celine tried one more time to defuse the situation.


    “Please,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. “Both of you, just stop. This isn’t worth it.”


    But I could see in Hunter’s eyes that he was already gone.


    Whatever sensible thought process usually handled his actions had beenpletely crushed by rage and jealousy and wounded pride.


    He bent his fingers once, twice, like a boxer preparing for a fight.


    The party guests sensed it too….some were backing away, others leaning in with morbid fascination.


    This was going to end badly for all of us.


    And there wasn’t a damn thing any of us could do to stop it.


    <b>Chap </b>