Chapter Three Hundred and Fourty Seven
Daniel turned from his silent—okay, brooding— study of the scenery passing by the car window to look at Emma .
She had been quiet since they had left the party ten minutes earlier. No, she had been distant since returning from the restroom.
And Michelle had followed a couple minutes behind her, wearing a sly grin. Personal experience had taught him his ex could be a malicious bitch. Had she said something to Emma? Had Michelle hurt her? A wave of protectiveness had surged inside him, and he had just managed to check the impulse to drag Emma onto his lap and demand answers.
To ease the tension that had strung her shoulders tight. To assure her that if Michelle had sharpened that dagger she called a tongue against Emma, he would fix it. Instead, he had remained sitting beside her at the table, until they could politely leave.
Disgust ate at him like a caustic acid. Disgust with himself. He had brought her there and hadn’t shielded her.