Christian drove like a madman toward his home, Kayla sitting stiffly in the passenger seat. He didn't care about speed limits, and she knew better than to say a word.
That self-righteous prick. Always getting in the way between him and his woman.
Christian resented the image of Lorenzo holding Ashley like she belonged to him—something he didn't get to do when she was with him. And the way he'd swooped in to "rescue" her from the restroom, like some fucking superhero.
His knuckles turned white around the steering wheel, foot pressing harder on the accelerator. Did Lorenzo really think he stood a chance? That he would just sit back and let him humiliate him and successfully steal what was rightfully his?
Not in this life. Not even in his wildest dreams. He was going to make him regret ever trying.
