The Scar He Gave, The Queen I Became
Chapter 8
Franklin parted the crowded dance floor like Moses splitting the Red Sea.
He shoved past bodies, knocking trays out of waiters' hands, completely ignoring the alcohol splashing onto his custom suit.
Before he could reach the booth, Hunter Croft-a notoriously sleazy billionaire heir-slid onto the leather sofa right next to Cadence.
Hunter leaned in close, his eyes raking over her exposed chest with blatant hunger.
"Why don't we take this up to a private suite?" Hunter purred, his breath reeking of expensive vodka.
Cadence didn't flinch away.
Instead, she leaned back, a lazy, provocative smile playing on her lips.
She raised her hand and hooked her index finger around Hunter's silk tie, pulling him an inch closer.
Franklin reached the edge of the booth exactly as her finger touched the fabric.
The sight of another man in her space detonated the last of his control.
A low, guttural snarl ripped from Franklin's throat.
His massive hand shot out, clamping down on the back of Hunter's collar.
With a terrifying display of brute strength, Franklin yanked the 180-pound man backward and hurled him across the room.
Hunter crashed hard into a glass table.
Bottles shattered, sending shards flying as the crowd shrieked and scrambled backward.
The club's security rushed forward, but the moment they recognized Franklin Mueller's murderous face, they froze, terrified to intervene.
Franklin stood over Cadence, his chest heaving, his eyes burning with a manic, bloodshot fury.
Cadence remained perfectly still.
She didn't even pull her hand back from the empty air where Hunter's tie had been.
She slowly tilted her head up, looking at Franklin with eyes as cold and dead as a winter lake.
"Are you trying to punish me?" Franklin hissed, his voice vibrating with rage. "Throwing yourself at garbage like Hunter?"
Cadence let out a soft, mocking scoff.
"At least Hunter knows how to please a woman," she shot back. "Instead of worshipping a pathetic liar like an angel."
The word liar pierced straight through his chest, hitting the exact spot of his new paranoia.
A surge of guilty panic spiked his adrenaline.
He leaned down, slamming both hands onto the sofa on either side of her thighs, trapping her completely.
The sharp scent of cedarwood and pure aggression suffocated her.
"Stop this insane tantrum right now," Franklin ordered, his voice dropping to a lethal growl. "Come home. Before I crush the Chase family into dust."
Cadence's eyes narrowed with absolute disgust.
"Dream on," she spat.
She brought both hands up and shoved hard against his solid chest, trying to break the suffocating proximity.
Her resistance triggered a sick, twisted possessiveness inside him.
Franklin's hand whipped out, his long fingers wrapping around her slender wrist like a steel vice.
His grip was bruising, nearly crushing her bones.
He yanked her violently off the sofa, dragging her flush against his body.
Kenzie screamed and lunged forward, but Julian appeared out of nowhere, wrapping his arms around her waist to hold her back.
"Don't," Julian warned Kenzie in a harsh whisper. "You'll just get her hurt. He's rabid."
Franklin wrapped his other arm around Cadence's waist, practically lifting her off her feet.
"Let me go!" Cadence snarled, kicking her stiletto heel hard into his shin.
Franklin didn't even blink.
He turned his head, sweeping a terrifying, icy glare over the silent crowd.
"This is my wife," Franklin announced, his voice echoing in the dead quiet of the club. "Anyone who looks at her again loses their eyes."
He didn't wait for a response.
Ignoring her violent struggles, he dragged her toward the dark, narrow VIP exit corridor.
Cadence glanced back over her shoulder.
Hunter was cowering on the floor, trembling like a beaten dog.
The physical disparity between her and Franklin was too great.
As the heavy soundproof door slammed shut behind them, plunging them into the dim corridor, Cadence stopped fighting his grip.
If she couldn't beat him physically, she would use words sharp enough to gut his arrogant pride.
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