Alaric was mad.
He could feel the rage seeping deep into his veins, crawling into his chest and taking complete charge of his head.
He hadn't wanted to be this mad. As a matter of fact, he was willing to give Nicolette a chance to explain.
That was the least he could do. After all, she wasn't his real wife, and he had no control over who she met or kissed.
But when he had realized who her guest was, anger had simmered in his veins.
Lucian Crawford.
She had invited her fucking betrothed husband to the wedding—their wedding!
But no, that was just the first phase of his anger.
The second phase had come when Lucian had openly flirted with her!
The act had spoken volumes without even trying.
Lucian had shown him he would always have Nicolette, and Alaric would always be the borrowed husband.
One year, and she would be back to him.
It had driven him mad, watching as Lucian bent over and whispered into his own wife's ear.
Had Nicolette chuckled?
Had she moaned?
