Billionaire, Let's Divorce!

Any sensible person would have retreated and left the troublesome couple alone, but this man.....

My eyes were fixated on him as he took an equally threatening step forward. His body seemed even more tout...alert.

"I know who you are, Mark Torres. President of GT Group. And I know you can make me go bankrupt, but that wouldn't stop me from defending a helpless lady. You can't waltz in here and harass my guests, your wife or not." His words had that underlying tone to it, it was filled with unspoken threats.

There was a shift in the air, and Mark seemed stunned at the man's response, then he abruptly turned back, cackling.

"This man is a joker." He sobered up, "You know all of this yet you dare to meddle in my affair? Are you tired of your bar already?"Material © NôvelDrama.Org.

Oh no. I couldn't let this go on. Clearly, the bar owner wouldn't give up, and Mark wasn't one to back off a threat either. I couldn't let a total stranger go bankrupt just because of my personal affairs. The bar owner opened his mouth to speak, but I stopped him.

"Wait," I splurged and rushed forward. I got in between the both of them and placed my palm on Mark's chest. His well-built chest was hard and strong beneath my palm as I pushed him backward. If he hadn't willingly moved backward, I wouldn't have even been able to move him an inch from his spot. Then I turned to the bar owner's increasingly familiar face, "Thank you for trying to help, but rest assured. Mark wouldn't hurt me." I forced a smile, "My husband wouldn't hurt me."

"Are you sure?" He seemed so concerned..

"I assure you

you. We might have had some misunderstanding. It happens. Couples fight all the time. It is always bound to happen, but he would never hurt me."

As I looked at him, my brain still worked. I still tried to figure out where I had seen him.

He glanced between the both of us for several seconds. Then he took a hesitating step back and nodded. "I'll count on your words then. Take care. His arm shot out, and he stretched his open palm toward me, a smile dancing on his lips.

I had barely taken his hands when Mark slapped his hands away, then he took hold of mine and pulled me away from there. He pounded down the hallway and straight to the bar's entrance.

I felt a prickle on my neck. I had assumed it was the other bar guests, but I couldn't resist the urge to turn back.

I looked back, and there he was, seated on a stool before the bartender. He must have followed us to confirm that Mark really wasn't going to hurt me.

I managed a smile to thank him, but I was taken aback when he winked at me, then he placed his thumb on his ear and his pinky finger across his lips. "Call me, he mouthed.

Instinctively, I looked down at my hands, the free one, and was shocked to find a card there. I stealthily slipped it into the back pocket of my skirt before Mark would see it and create another scene. How did the card get in my palm? The thought bothered me as I let Mark drag me out.

My brows creased, and my brain tried to work out how I had gotten the card, then suddenly I could reach it and it became crystal clear.

The memory. I remembered vividly where I had seen that man. Where I had met him.

My head whipped back; he was still watching me, his lips on the rim of the wine glass he was holding.

The jagged left brow. Those dark piercing eyes. His raspy authoritative voice as he had ordered, 'don't make a sound,' resounded in my head.

My heartbeat accelerated, and my feet moved at the same pace as Mark's. I suddenly wanted to be out of here as soon as I could.

It was the same man. The one who had been in my house when I came back from my trip. The one whose bullet wound I-had begun to treat before Mark's interruption.

Holy shit! How had I not recognized him immediately? That face...that stance wasn't one to be quickly forgotten.