Clement felt like shooting Noah's brains out.
If a gun were handed to him—if a gun had been anywhere within his reach—he would have blown the man to pieces without hesitation, no matter whose ass was gored, no matter which powerful family the miscreant came from.
The urge burned hot and savage in his chest. Struggling to maintain deep, measured breathing, forcing himself to cling to common sense while knowing, bitterly, that all the cards were stacked in Noah's favor, he slowly pushed himself up from the ground.
Every movement screamed humiliation. He returned to the chair and sat, stiff and rigid, like a man nailed in place.
His wife and Sabrina lifted their heads briefly, and sensing the tension sharpening dangerously between the two men, they quickly lowered their gazes again, as though hiding their faces might shield them from what was about to erupt.
"Do you have a problem with my offer, Clement?" Noah asked, still standing, a sharp, unwarm smile curving his lips.
